#xfiles fanfic

lotsoforangesoutside:

msr | post s9 | words: 1,060

“C’mon, Scully,” He urges with a boyish grin that’s impossible to find on other men in their forties, “just close your eyes and follow me.”

“Mulder, be reasonable,” she chides while extending a hand to grab a hold onto the hem of his t-shirt, “I don’t wanna trip.”

“You won’t,” he promises and reaches behind to grab her hand. “Here, hold onto my hand. We don’t need a blindfold, do we? No peeking, Scully.”

“Just walk slow.”

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How did Mulder and Scully get from being on the run at the end of “The Truth” to living in a house together while Scully is working in a hospital at the start of “I Want to Believe?” This fic explains it with an emotional depth that’s very compelling and fitting for these two characters and their deep, entangled history.

Title:Compass
Author: SeemaG (@seemaunbound)
Summary: The truth was a harsh compass. Post series, pre-XF2 movie.
Length: 21,324 words
Classification:Post-series
Rating: Teen and up
Spoilers: The Truth, I Want to Believe
Favorite line: They were in constant orientation and orbit, moving to and from, always finding their way, sometimes together, but always alone.

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lotsoforangesoutside:

msr | s5 | words: 1,170

It’s not the first time he sneaks into her room so late at night. It’s not the first time he does something knowing that she’ll never accept if he asks first. And he knows this will not be the last time.

Mulder knows her. He knows her answer before he even asks. I’m fine,Mulder.She always says that. Not just to him, but to her mother, to her brother, and to herself.

Fine means she’s delicate. Fine means she’s beautiful and elegant. Oh yeah, she’s fine. Mulder’s beginning to think about fine in those terms every time Scully says she’s fine.

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Mulder and Scully find themselves trapped with the only thing to do being to talk to each other while they wait for help. Things get personal, very personal.

Title:What Hands Do
Author:Mish
Summary: “And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.” I think that about covers it.
Length: 31k (~5,550 words)
Classification: M/S UST, some Angst
Rating:R
Spoilers: Slight one for “Fight the Future”
Favorite line: Sea nymph Scully is quickly joined in my fantasy by Speedo Mulder, and things quickly deteriorate into the FBI-agent-on-vacation version of “From Here to Eternity.”

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If you like historical AUs, you’ll like this one! Here a young Mulder and Scully meet in the early 1900s. Mulder’s sister Samantha is ill, and both she and Mulder become fascinated with the pretty young lady from down the road who’s living with her uncle (a doctor) and studying medicine.

Title:The Doctor’s Niece
Author: AweburnPhoenix (@aweburnphoenix​)
Summary: Historical AU: Philadelphia, Christmas 1918. WWI is finally over, and William Mulder has returned home from combat. Unfortunately, this means his family expects him to marry Diana Fowley – a marriage he went to war to avoid. Things get even more complicated when he meets Katherine Scully, a woman ahead of her time who is studying to be a doctor at the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania, and who his family disapproves of.
Length: 15,976 words
Classification: AU, UST to RST
Rating: Teen and up
Spoilers:None
Favorite line: This was her first real male patient and she tried to convince herself that that was the reason for her nervousness, and it had nothing to do with the fuzzy feeling in her lower belly.

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lotsoforangesoutside:

msr | s3 | words: 1,060

She has a big brother, a big sister, and a little brother. She has always been the responsible one; when she was eight years old, Mom had designated her to be the counter. She was to make sure that Bill, Missy, and Charlie did not wander off too far away on family outings. She always stayed close to Mom and kept her eyes on her three siblings.

Bill was not always the square he is now, and Missy could be distracted by ladybugs and kitty cats, but most of all, it was Charlie that was the hardest to keep tabs on—he was attracted to everything shiny and colorful.

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Step right up to the classic fic scenario of “oh no, there’s only one hotel room left and there’s only one bed but there are two of us!”

Title:New Orleans
Author:Paula
Summary: Mulder and Scully get stuck sharing a hotel room.
Length: 22k (~4,000 words)
Classification: Mulder/Scully UST
Rating:PG
Spoilers:None
Favorite line: Scully’s first thought on waking was that the pillow she had slept on seemed strangely hard. And warm. And muscular.

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The title of this fic does not lie. You want a spin on the episode “Requiem” that has emotional pow in ways not seen on the show? Look no further!

Title:rewriting Requiem
Author:@mldrgrl
Summary: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
Length: ~1,025 words
Classification:MSR
Rating: Not rated
Spoilers:Requiem
Favorite line: No, I should be right here.

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lotsoforangesoutside:

msr | s7 | words: 670

The air is cold. It’s freaking April and Spring is here, but the air is cold because he can’t get Scully to see his way.

Sure, the case is silly, Mulder admits. A woman in Pennsylvania claims to have fostered cubs of mythical creatures she found in the woods behind her house, and two days ago, all the cubs vanished without a trace. Woman claims them to be griffins, which she believes will fetch a handsome price at the black market for exotic animals.

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The dialogue between Mulder and Scully is great in this story, little jokes and barbs as evidence of two people who very much adore each other.

Title:Meg
Author: Apostrophic (@mappingthexfiles)
Summary:He had lived with grief long enough to learn you did not ignore happiness whenever it came. Two scenes, one before and one after a tiny someone makes three. Post-season 11. I’m coining the tag “no angst, just love.”
Length: 3,741 words
Classification:Post-episode/series
Rating: General Audiences
Spoilers: My Struggle IV
Favorite line: More often than not, though, he’d say something ridiculous, like, “Oh my God, Scully, that’s so hot, come here,” because then she would laugh or give him a shove or put a pillow over his face, but then return from the bathroom to curl up against him, resting her head and her belly like he was her pillow, and he’d try to recall something else in his life that made him feel more necessary than that.

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lilydalexf:

This story is so smart, so lovely, so sad, and so hopeful. It’s beautifully written, and it handles family and faith better than the show ever did, and I think as good as anybody ever has. Also: Detective Kresge (from “Christmas Carol” and “Emily”).

Title:God’s Breath
Author: Jintian (@jinjoint)
Summary: May 1999. A mysterious death brings Scully’s faith and personal history to the fore.
Length: 52,217 words / 293k
Classification: X-File, Romance, Angst
Rating:R
Spoilers: None listed
Favorite line: This is more a paragraph, but it was hard choosing any one line or anything not packed with spoilers: He wasalwaysdoing something like that. Pissing me off, and then letting some comment drop like he didn’t know it had the power to knock me flat with joy. Now I was picturing him sleeping in my bed – our bed, if I really admitted that he spent more time at my apartment than his anyway – sniffing the pillows and burrowing beneath my covers. I missed him.

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(And if you like it, leave kudos and/or a comment!)

This X-Files fic is very unusual. It’s from the perspective of Chief Blevins, which you rarely see in fic, and it explores a particular time in the series that doesn’t get much attention. Saying too much more about the story will spoil it. So go read now!

Title:Mere Ripple
Author:Luperkal
Summary: not a real ending of course, nor even a beginning.
Length: 15k (~2,500 words)
Classification: Vignette, Angst
Rating:PG
Spoilers: None listed (and I won’t spoil it by giving away any episodes)
Favorite line: The complete absence of thought in my mind was remarkable, I stared at her hands clenching and unclenching the sheet in a rhythmic monotone and realized I had no more emotions left to feel and no more words left to say.

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This fic is an intriguing casefile where Mulder takes Scully on a “nice trip to the forest.” Scully dreads the trip (spoiler: the trip is upsetting and dangerous), but she does meet a flirty ranger. Mulder is not so fond of this development and gets jealous. How delightful for all 3 of them to be staying in the same small tent! By which I mean delightful for the reader because this fic is a great mix of a case and the personal.

Title:Dark Water
Author: Suzanne Schramm
Summary: Prehistoric insects. Mothmen. Now it’s a publicity-shy tribe of murderers. Just another nice trip to the forest with Mulder.
Length: 99k (~17,250 words)
Classification: X-File, Angst, UST
Rating:PG-13
Spoilers: Season 5, Pre “The End”
Favorite line: Scully had sometimes wondered if it was the long, dry spell in her social life or just Mulder himself causing the flutters in her stomach.

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lilydalexf:

There are not enough words to describe how spectacular these stories are, so suffice it to say that they beautifully, heartbreakingly, humorously, and very uniquely bring Mulder, Scully, and William together in a treasure of an X-Files fic novel.

Title:The 13th Signand7 Days in May
Author: prufrock’s love
Summary: Mulder saw no reason for life, death, sex, Armageddon, or emotional dysfunction to stand in the way of true love. / It might be the end of the world. Fox Mulder had a psychic vampire on the loose, a six-year-old son in tow, a ton of emotional baggage, and an FBI budget, but at least he wasn’t dead. Mulder felt things were looking up - romantically and apocalyptically.
Length: 71,945 words / 93,861 words
Classification: X-file, MSR, Post season 7
Rating:R
Spoilers: Through season 7
Favorite line: As if these stories don’t have a favorite line practically every single paragraph.

Readthe story! And its its sequel!

onpaperfirst:

Hello and happy spring, neighbor in apartment 42!

We hope you have been enjoying the warmer weather AND the beautiful new wildflower beds that were planted in front of the building! (All of the flowers are native to VA and were chosen to attract pollinators! We hope you had a chance to skim the March tenants’ board newsletter for details on our ongoing green beautification projects and how you might get involved.)

A few general housekeeping items:

A reminder that as of May 1, street cleaning will be moved to Wednesday AM (8-11) for the north side of Hegal and Thursday AM (8-11) for the south side of Hegal. Be sure to move your car no later than 7:55. (Early is on time!) Cars remaining between 8 and 11 will be ticketed. (No fun! :( The fine for a car left parked during posted street cleaning hours is $85.) (Please remind your friend(??)/coworker(??) of this as well.)

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The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing…Potential…The Newbies…The Dessert…Dinosaurs and Cannibalism…Sassy Sprinklepants …The Secret Vault of Mudlerness

To catch up: First series…Second series …  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Doggett and Harrison had been around for a fair amount of time at this point and Scully, while sitting on the balcony, rocking Will with her foot and reading several potential casefiles for Mulder and company, she called to him through the screen door, “hey, Mulder?”

Mulder, never really out of earshot of her because, well, it was Scully and he could listen to her forever, called back from the kitchen where he was washing the dinner dishes, “yeah?”

“We should have them over for dinner.”

He had to think for a minute, then, still not sure if he knew who she meant, walked out, dishtowel in hand, “who’s them?”

She looked at him with a grin before waving the file at him, “your people. Doggett, Harrison … do these names ring a bell?”

She received a flying towel to the face before he sat down in the other chair, “you mean, like, have them here and make them food and eat it with them?”

Apparently, he was not well versed in guests, “yes. That is generally how dinner works.”

He would make her pay later, somehow, “I get that but I guess it never occurred to me to socialize with them, outside of the office or a case, I mean.”

Adorable crazy person he was, “well, I think you should ask them over for maybe tomorrow or Wednesday. I can make fail-safe spaghetti or even just have taco night.”

Looking at her as if she were the most fascinatingly complex person alive, “Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, dinner hosts. Weird.”

She shoved him with her free foot, still rocking Will with the other, “just go call them.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Being the ‘new in town’ and ‘workaholic but needs to see daylight every so often’ partners they were, both Doggett and Harrison accepted and sooner rather than later, Wednesday evening rolled around, with Mulder freshly laundered, Will unsticky, Scully wearing her fancy flipflops but planning on being barefoot before long. Just as Scully finished drying her hands, she suddenly stopped mid-motion, “shit.”

“What?”

“What do I call them? I can’t call them Agent Doggett and Agent Harrison, that would be to … just … to. Do I call them John and Leyla? What do you call them? What do they call me? Am I still Agent Scully? They can’t …”

Mulder stopped her with a hand to her mouth, “take a deep breath, would you? You’re gonna freak me out.”

Before he could get any further in his statement, the doorbell rang, Scully letting out a nervous giggle, which surprised them both, “fuck, this is gonna be awkward.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Doggett followed Mulder through the door a minute later, greeting Scully with a head nod and a, “hi ya, Agent Scully.”

She had to smile, “call me Dana, if you’d like or just Scully. The agent part of my life has been on hold for quite awhile at this point.”

With a nod and a crooked smile, “Dana, then. I’m John.”

“Nice to have you, John.”

Mulder desperately wanted to interject something here but the doorbell rang again and soon, Layla and John were standing in the living room, making small talk about families, pets, and the general DC area. Soon enough, Will decided he needed to meet this John person and immediately leaned towards him. To Mulder’s nerves and Scully’s nod, Doggett picked him up, snuggled him to his shoulder, then let out the largest smile any of them had ever seen, “I haven’t held a baby since my son was this age. I’ve forgotten how light they are.”

Will took to him like glue, chewing on Doggett’s collar with Doggett standing there, the most content-looking, scary, gruff FBI man since Skinner to melt under the influence of one William Walter.

“He likes you.”

Settling down on the kitchen chair, Will on his shoulder, “the feeling is mutual.”

Mulder relaxed after Scully subtly told him, via lightning-fast eyeball exchanging, to calm himself down. Harrison was quieter at first, which shocked them all but soon, the taco fixings needed cutting and the meat needed cooking and she jumped in, talking a mile a minute about when she ran a taco truck for the summer in Ocean City with her uncle.

For all the words the small woman sped through in a minute, Scully liked her.

That said a lot.

&&&&&&&&&&

Doggett didn’t seem at all put out when offered a bottle to give Will but eventually, before the adults settled in for food, he had to relinquish him, “catch you later, little man.”

Scully, honest to God, felt like she would be comfortable leaving her little boy with the lanky man in the button-down shirt.

Once Will had fallen asleep, dinner began, the talk lagging every so often but then Mulder off-handedly mentioned Jim-Jim the Dog-faced boy, which is quite impressive considering how hard it actually is to work Jim-Jim the Dog-faced boy into a conversation without simply saying, “so, ever heard of Jim-Jim the Dog-faced boy?”, the conversation took on a life of its own, jumping from sideshow murder to fetishists, which Scully steered them away from, to eventually landing on satanic cultists and the Devil himself.

Doggett argued amicably that that was all nonsense but in a way that didn’t imply that everyone else was fucking stupid for believe in the nonsense. Harrison fought back passionately, citing statistics and documentation of Devil possession and worship. Mulder argued on Harrison’s side while Scully, sipping her Margarita, fell in the middle, arguing both believer and skeptic.

Her brain stretched like it hadn’t in years, keeping up with the greenhorns and loving it.

It really was like seeing “MulderNScully: The Early Years” from the seat of a well-versed elder.

It was after 11 by the time both said their goodbyes, heading to vehicles and into the night, leaving Mulder to lock the door before coming back upstairs to lean on the kitchen wall, watch Scully nibble at some guac and chips, “well?”

“I’m exhausted.”

Laughter ringing quietly, “they are a handful.”

“But it was fun. I’ve never watched us argue before.” Waving a chip in his direction, “they’re gonna have Walter quitting within a year.”

“I told him I figured he would last about nine months.”

Snorting, she went in for another chip, “if I tell you something, will you promise not to get mad?”

“You like Doggett more than me, don’t you?”

She nearly threw the chip at him, but smiling, “of course not but I do have the weirdest feeling that I could leave Will with him and I wouldn’t worry.”

“He’d come home with a New York accent.” Sitting down across from her, “but I can see it. Not saying I’d ever let Will out of sight, but if necessary, Doggett could be a decent stand-in if we run out of relatives.”

Both continued to chew in silence until Scully yawned, “you know what we are?”

“Adorable?”

Shaking her head at him, “we are untrained at the art of hosting.” When Mulder looked blankly at her, she rephrased, “do you realize those two are the first people we have had over here that aren’t related to us. We don’t have friends, Mulder. We have family and we have adopted family.”

“What about the Holy Trinity?”

“Frohike has knitted my mother an afghan. Langley had slept on my mother’s living room floor and Byers taught her how to cook standing rib roast. They are Scully whether they like it or not.”

Two more chips, “yeah, we’re pathetic.”

“The problem is, one day, they’ll be at my mother’s for dinner and Layla will have her tongue dyed blue and Doggett will tell a story with that accent and my mother will swoon and then they will be brought into the fold as well.”

Three chips and a stolen sip of Margarita, “I’m beginning to believe the Scully family is some kind of cult.”

“We do basically drink the Kool-Aid every Thursday.”

Wiping his hands on his pants, Mulder stood, kissing her forehead before beginning to put whatever was still out, away, “and damn good Kool-Aid it is.”

The piece-de-resistance of the evening came about 10 minutes later in the form of a text from Doggett, “thank you for dinner. I believe I stole little man’s pacifier. Do you need it back tonight because I can run it right over? Can’t have him waking up crying without it.”

Mulder held up his phone to show Scully, “I think Doggett’s well on his way to becoming one of us.”

“Or at least Will’s.”

Replying that it could wait until the next day, Mulder hugged Scully close before turning off kitchen lights and guiding her toward the bedroom, “bed, please. All this politeness has worn me out.”

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing…Potential…The Newbies …The Dessert

To catch up: First series…Second series …  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

“Do you know that there is a dinosaur that lives in a lake in Georgia?”

Mulder nearly dropped his cards, “Scully!”

“There is, Mulder. I did not want to tell you while we were there and once we got back, I could not tell you but right now, I am going to tell you that I think you just might have been right about that one.”

The table fell silent immediately, Charlie asking, “a dinosaur?”

“Yes. He smashed our boat to bits,” putting her cards down in lady-like fashion, she crashed her palms together, missing the first time but connecting the second, “to bits and bits and it sank and we sat on a rock and ducks scared us and Mulder said he would eat me if he had to.” Suddenly covering her mouth, of course finding contact first time out the gate and slapping herself in the process, “that sounded dirty. I did not mean eat me but eat me eat me, like gnaw on my thigh bone and hope to get rescued before he had to eat my liver which reminds me of this other …”

Mulder stopped her flailing arms vainly attempting to find the vicinity of her liver with pointed finger, then his liver with pointed finger, “Scully, Scully, shh, hey, remember, we don’t talk about things like that at the dinner table.”

“But we already ate dinner and had Dessert …. Desssert … Dessseeeerrt … Mama, do you have anymore dessert … damn it, Dessert … I made sure to caspitalize it this time.”

Mulder’s hands grabbed for her again, successfully pinning her arms to the table, light but firm, “stop waving those fingers around, you’re gonna take out Charlie’s eye or knock poor Ruth to the ground.”

Charlie, for his part in all this, was dying next to his sister. He’d never seen her drink the Punch before and the ruckus she was causing had him laughing to the point of tears, “is she always like this? She’s only had one glass. What’s she like on two?”

Seeing Scully had forgotten dinosaurs and cannibalism for the moment, he let got of her hands, handing her cards back, “no idea. I’m usually rambling on about pie, from what I hear.”

Maggie smiled and slid a glass of water in Scully’s direction, “your sister is usually fairly floppy by now but her M.O. seems to have changed since Will was born so we will just have to watch and see what happens. Meanwhile, since I’m winning, I’d like to get back to the game.”

Back to the game indeed, until 10 minutes had passed and Mulder felt something sliding under his arm. Looking down, he saw slender fingers and scarred knuckles trying to sneak cards from his hand. Whispering at her now leaning-in figure, “what are you doing?”

Whispering, not really whispering, her answer, “I need your eights and your trees, I mean threes.”

The whole table could hear her.

Mulder looked at the messy cards in her hand, “you need ones and fours.”

“I know that but I like your eights and trees better. Eights and threes are all curvy and look like snowmen but fours and ones look like knives and scalpels and sharp things and I do not like sharp things. Too many stitches and hospitals for sharp things. Pointy. Points hurt.” Pulling up her shirt suddenly to reveal a fading scar down her side, “see, Charlie, pointy things do that.”

Charlie sobered immediately, also seeing the puckered gunshot wound of one Peyton Ritter, “Day?”

Scully let her shirt drop back down, oblivious to her brother’s reaction, “snowmen are more fun than knives and definitely more fun than bullets, let me tell you … bullets move fast and they hurt, zing, burn right through you …” Looking around, she smiled, “Ma, are you sure you ran out of cake?” When no one answered, Scully swung her head around, everyone a blur until Charlie, where she stopped, discovering he wasn’t laughing anymore, “are you okay?”

“I’ve just … I’ve never seen your … gunshot … thing.”

She threw her arms around her little brother, “I am fine, Charlie Bucket, never fear. I have Mulder and Walter and Frohippy and Langley and Byers watching out for me.” Hugging him around the neck, “and if everybody else fails, still got you, right?”

He hugged her close, “yeah, Day, you’ve still got me.”

Expecting an answer, all he got was a snort and a giggle, “fails … snails … whales … bales … of hay … day … Day.” Sitting up quickly, knocking Charlie’s chin with the top of her very hard head, “Day. That is my name, ask me again and I will tell you the same.”

Her giggles got them over the awkward bullet wound, liver eating, cannibalistic, Jurassic lean the evening was taking, and making sure she quit while she was ahead, Mulder moved her punch away, far out of the reach of her once again wandering hands, “I told you, you can’t have my cards.”

“But I like yours better.”

And those damn blue eyes batted blurrily at him and without another thought, he gave her his hand, “if you lose with what I just gave you, you’re making dinner for a week.”

Attempting and failing to keep the cards between her fingers, “big ass lasagna, coming up.”

She lost.

Then fell asleep against his shoulder while they played another 20 minutes.

Getting her to the spare room and settling her in, Mulder returned to the game packing up, “hey now, don’t I at least get one round to redeem the last hand Scully massacred?”

Frohike smacked him on the arm, “next time, my friend. Langly is about to crash and Byers already called not it on carrying him inside so we either leave him here or head out now.” Raising an eyebrow, “and that puts him sharing a room with you two.”

“Goodbye, Frohippy.”

Soon, Maggie was giving Will his bottle, and sneaking him upstairs to sleep in the portable crib already conveniently set up beside her and Skinner’s bed. Allowing his child his first Grandma sleepover, he looked over at Charlie, “feel like raiding the leftovers?”

Already headed to the fridge, “way ahead of you, Mulder.” The meatballs were just as good cold and coupled with large glasses of milk, both men were settled on the porch within minutes, Charlie swallowing his mouthful before, “what’s on your mind?”

Looking at his brother-in-law, “I’m sorry for tonight. We’re usually pretty good at keeping work separate from here, but apparently the Punch got the better of your sister.”

“It’s okay, although I gotta say, it was a little unsettling to see her scars like that. I know she’s been shot but to actually see it …” he shuddered slightly then returned to his food, taking another forkful, “let’s just say, I’m going to go home and thank Sarah for having the nice, safe job she has.” When Mulder didn’t respond, “can I ask you something?”

“I can’t guarantee I can answer but I’ll try.”

“How often are you two really in danger? I mean, serious, I could very well die today danger?”

After chewing, swallowing, drinking, clearing his throat, Mulder answered, “your sister, not very often anymore but me … probably a couple times a month at least, depending on the case.”

With the frankness only a little brother could have, “then why do you still do it?”

He couldn’t come up with an answer.

&&&&&&&&

Scully woke to Maggie warming up a bottle and humming in the kitchen outside the bedroom door. Getting up, she found she was, while not hungover, incredibly thirsty. Joining her mother and son, she drank a full glass of water while running her fingers over Will’s perfect handful of scalp, downy softness beneath her palm, “how did he sleep?”

“Like a baby.” Maggie nuzzled his forehead, “he only woke up once with a wet diaper but otherwise, he let us sleep until a few minutes ago.”

“He’s a good boy like that.” Fingers leaving Will, she moved to the fridge, “I don’t have a hangover, but I’m going to eat my cold tacos anyway. Want one?”

“No, thank you. Walter will be down soon and he’ll make the oatmeal and we’ll eat then.”

Taco en route to her mouth, she stopped, “should I wait?”

Maggie eyed the congealed burrito bean paste solidified on the end of the tortilla three inches from her daughter’s face, “I’d prefer not to watch you eat that while I’m eating, thank you.”

With a grin, Scully bit down, beans and rice threatening to spill down her chin, “but it’s so good.”

“You are not my child.”

Continuing her eating, she moved to the back door, “did you know Mulder and Charlie are out here?”

“Are they in the hammock together?”

Her Mexican mouthful nearly exited her nose, “thank God, no.”

“Someone should probably go wake them up so they can get to work.”

Seeing potential in such a suggestion, she scooted outside, leaning over her brother upside-down, nose to nose, “Charlie? Charlie? Time to get up.” When he didn’t move, she said it louder, “Charlie!” then got the hell out of the way, knowing he would jump up immediately.

He did not disappoint.

He also stumbled forward after he stood and ran right into the deck railing, hanging over for a moment before, “damn it, Dana, you trying to kill me?!”

“Just scare the hell out of you. Did it work?”

He remained where he was, head hanging over, “what time is it and if it’s before 6, you’re going to suffer.”

“It’s 5:54.”

Groaning, “Good Lord, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have to go to work.”

“I’m having a meatball hangover. I can’t be expected to think today.”

Walking over to him, she tapped the back of his knees with her toe and watching him collapse to the ground, still hanging onto the railing, “you finished them?”

“Your husband helped.”

She truly enjoyed hearing him called that and smiling, “he probably had three while you scarfed the other fifteen.”

“Guilty.” Letting go of the rail, he leaned against the support, “you should scare him, too. Let him join me in my utter loathing of you at the moment.”

With a ‘pshaw’ and a ‘guffaw’ she leaned over Mulder the same way but this time, the moment she said his name, he opened his eyes and grinned, “hi there, wife.”

“Morning, husband.”

Charlie groaned, “both of you just shut it. You’re disgusting at 6am.”

“I thought we were disgusting all the time.”

Charlie simply lay down on the deck, “just let me go back to sleep in peace, would you?”

the fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing…Potential

To catch up: First series…Second series …  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Home after dark, waking up in the dark, getting dressed, eating, changing a wayward diaper, double locking front door, Mulder stretched as he walked towards the car, wondering just how long his day would be quiet.

Not as long as he expected.

Apparently, his day was good for 1 hour, 22 minutes then hell arrived in the form of short, blond pep.

He’d called Agent Harrison as soon as he made it to the office, leaving her a message saying he’d like to meet with her sometime in the next day or two to discuss her file and the work of the X-Files. Instead of calling, setting up a time, following protocol, she arrived in the basement with a speedy click of heels and teeth … lots of white, smiling teeth.

That’s all he saw of her at first: rows of white, pearly teeth, straight, shiny.

Then her hand arrived, out to shake before he managed to stand up straight, brush off his donut crumbs, remember how to focus on something more than four inches from his face. Taken aback, he stared at the tiny hand, cheap watch, sleeve of suit jacket pulled up above narrow wrist …

Holy fuck …

Scully had re-enlisted in the form of Leyla Harrison.

Just, as he would learn in the next two minutes, a little, well, hell, a shitload more, enthusiastic.

Scully had begun arguing with him within the first two minutes.

Agent Harrison gushed about the X-Files and all their virtues and beauty for the first five minutes before he finally cut her off, “hi. You must be Agent Harrison. I didn’t expect you here quite so quickly. Would you like to sit down?”

Oh, God, as soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed. He offered her a chair. A place to settle in, talk until she used all the air in the room, suffocated him with words of undying devotion.

He let her ramble a few more minutes before pulling her back in again, “I’m sorry, Agent Harrison, would you like a cup of tea, coffee?”

Giving her something to hold did the trick, her hands occupied, her mouth slowing until he could process the words and sentences rolling towards him, “yes, thank you, Agent Mulder, coffee, please. I’m sorry.” Looking down at the cup he handed her moments later, “I have a tendency to blather, a lot, when I meet people I admire.”

And with that, she held her tongue.

Good lord, he actually liked her.

He really’d been hoping he wouldn’t.

But he did.

At least for now.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

She left an hour and a half later and the first thing Mulder did was shut the door and call Scully, “what did you do to me?”

And feeling just a little bit saucy and a wee bit riled up, “nothing today but I have plans for you that’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”

His mouth went dry for the slightest second then, grinning, “tell me more.”

Watching her son finish his bottle, she stood and headed into the kitchen, “I will once you get home but for right now, what did I do to you that I don’t know I did to you?”

“You sent me a woman who is enthusiastic, doesn’t shut up, adores everything about anything weird, supernatural, or out there, and thinks that both you and I are the shit.”

“Sorry. I’ll keep combing the files. There has to be somebody out there who hates you with every fiber of their being. I’ll find them. Don’t worry.”

“Sarcasm is your thing, Scully, let me tell you.” Sitting back in his chair, looking up at the sparse pencils still stuck in his ceiling, he made a mental note to add more in the future, “I will say though, once I began sifting through her babble, I found some good theories, ideas, directions I might not have taken.”

“Did you show her some cases?”

“Yeah. She did pretty well given she’s only every really worked in accounting. She’ll need a lot of handholding in the field but I’m seriously considering trying her out.” Because she was Scully and he was Mulder, he answered her before she could even ask, “but she doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

Seriously, she had to get these hormones under control, “I was going to ask if she believed in Big Blue.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you were. So, you want to hear about her?”

“No. It’ll be more fun with a live re-enactment.”

Not wanting to let her go just yet, “then tell me what you’re doing with that kid of ours.”

“We got up late so he just finished his bottle and I’m about to eat,” having warmed frozen pancakes and rolled them around some science-oven sausages, “dirty things for breakfast.”

“Sausages in sweaters! Without me? How dare you.”

She liked to make him smile.

&&&&&&&&&

John Doggett, on the other hand, called back and set up a time to meet, the next day, 1:30 in the afternoon.

He arrived 3 minutes, 10 seconds early and stepped off the elevator with about as much trepidation as a seasoned police officer could muster surrounded by copy paper, handcarts, and the prospect of working with Fox Mulder. Namely, he figured he’d get to see what all the fuss was about surrounding the X-files and what he hoped would be a decent cup of coffee. He’d been searching out re-assignment to the DC area, looking for a change of scenery, a change of boss, a change of his life in general …

And why not do the interview? It would be a temporary assignment, get him used to the city, allow him to meet other agents, see if the Hoover Building tickled his fancy.

Then he registered the yelling.

But it wasn’t angry yelling …

It was a good old-fashioned shouting match argument like the ones he used to have with his guys back before the Bureau.

Eyebrow raising slightly then dropping back in place, he listened to mention of bats, invisible snakes, bite marks, and some science-y jargon he could neither spell nor repeat even with gun to head. Wondering if he should just get the hell out now, the voices suddenly stopped, then the door opened further, “ahhh, see, I told you I thought I heard the elevator.”

John Doggett was confronted with a cautiously friendly Scully smile as she stepped slightly aside, “come on in … welcome to the basement.” Holding out her hand once he was inside, “I’m Agent Dana Scully and my partner there is Fox Mulder. If you heard mention of giant vampire bats, don’t hold it against him, the bite marks are remarkable similar.”

Mulder moved to shake his hand yet directed his words at Scully, “so you admit vampire bats exist, just not giant ones?”

Leaning over the car seat stationed safely dead center of a cluttered desk, she made sure their arguing hadn’t woken Will, “I never said they didn’t, Mulder. Common, hairy-legged, and white winged are well document in their species and while I don’t subscribe to there being ones with six-foot wingspans and the ability to drain a person of their entire blood supply, their faces have a slight resemblance to pigs and that amuses me enough to allow you to ramble on without me killing you with a stapler.”

Glancing sidelong at a silent Doggett, “he’s still here.”

“That’s a good sign.” Finally turning her attention to the new guy, “would you like a cup of coffee?”

&&&&&&&&&

They talked to him for over an hour, drilling him about cases, opinions, past alliances, and why he drank his coffee black. Mulder analyzed every little quirking finger twitch, non-invasive nose scratch, and random, rapid blink. Scully kept Mulder reigned in enough to not send Doggett screaming into the hallway.

Doggett wondered what the hell kind of circus ride he might be getting himself into and how long it would be before both the agents in front of him were carted off by the lovely men in white coats with caged-lined vans.

Finally, the pair seemed to have finished their interrogation and Doggett got to open his mouth, his first sentence being, “I think the pair of you are thick as thieves and crazy to boot.”

Honest-to-God, Scully liked him and she thought that maybe Mulder might, too, “I keep his crazy in check.”

“She needs a little crazy every now and then. It works well for both of us.”

Doggett couldn’t help it. He had to smile, hang his head while doing it mind you, but smile, “I can only promise that I’ll do my best to solve these cases. I won’t be buying into the whole paranormal thing and I will never believe that Casper or Chuckie did it in the basement with magic herbs and a summoning circle but I will catch the bad guys, I guarantee it.”

Mulder folded his arm in a loose gesture of agreement to Scully’s unspoken question hanging between them, “he knows what a summoning circle is and whether he learned it on TV or from his hippie big sister, he used it properly in the sentence.”

“Mulder.”

Holding his hand out to Doggett, “feel like giving it a trial run?”

Without hesitation, he shook back, “when do I start?”

the fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing…

To catch up: First series…Second series… Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

Sitting on the back porch of the beach house, sun lower than the roof, throwing them in shade and a semi-cool breeze, Mulder veed his knees up, propping Will, his miniscule baby bum wrapped in an impossibly small diaper, on his thighs, tiny feet wiggling and occasionally making contact with Mulder’s belly.

“You have the most adorable feet,” catching one and leaning forward to kiss the heel, then the barely there toes, “but don’t tell your mother, she’ll get jealous.”

Scully, files stacked on her folded legs, “I shall contain my rage.” Holding the top folder up, “John Doggett. New York cop, detective, now works for the FBI in Investigation. Military man, Marine …”

Mulder cut her off, mouth still nibbling Will’s feet, “he’s got that damn DoD rec letter. It just doesn’t sit well.”

“I know,” pulling the letter out, “but it looks like a standard thing and remember, Skinner picked him for us originally. I trust that, Mulder, almost as much as I trust if you’d have done it.”

Sitting back, now playing with Will’s finally fattening legs, “how old is he?”

“40, I think.”

“Beats the toddlers I’ve dealt with so far. Married?”

“Divorced. One son who died a few years back.” She’d forgotten that part and with sudden shooting fear in her heart, she looked over to make sure Will was still there, “um, it’s why he left New York.”

Mulder felt the same chest-compressing panic and with a deep breath, kept an eye on his boy as he nodded, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Simultaneously cheering and praying, she opened a second folder, “and then we have Leyla Harrison. She dropped her resume off to Skinner a few days ago and mom dropped it off yesterday morning. She’s incredibly green but apparently has enough enthusiasm to keep the home fires burning in the basement for decades to come.”

“So, she’s you but might actually believe me one day?”

She would have thrown the file at him had Will not been within papercut vicinity, so she settled for a smirking glare and full-on ‘bite me’ eyebrow, “don’t push it, Sparky. You may never see me naked again.”

“I’ll take that bet ‘cause I don’t think you’d be able to follow through.”

Returning to her papers, “yeah, probably not.”

Mulder held his finger near Will’s hand until matchstick grippers grabbed him tightly, squeezing the bejeezus out of pointer, well, Will-size bejeezus, which, really, felt like almost nothing and fairly close to heaven at the same time, “your mama likes me.”

“Don’t listen to him, Will, I’m just here for the beach house.”

Shaking his head and grinning at both wife and son, “read me out this Harrison person. Let’s see if she’ll make it through the first week.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It took a fair amount of arguing, but in the end, Mulder begrudgingly admitted that both Doggett and Harrison might possibly be a semi-decent fit for his life’s work. That out of the way, he followed Scully into the house, ready to eat the dinner, ready to bathe the kid, ready to snuggle with the wife, ready to spend one more night on vacation in king-size perfection.

It wasn’t until they’d reached the snuggling part that the lightning began flashing off in the distance, thunder rumbling low at first but becoming louder and closer with every minute. Soon, the windows were rattling as the wind and rain pummeled the little house. Will, like his parents, didn’t sleep through the onslaught, but unlike his parents, Will cried his pitiful cry, Scully nuzzling him close, fitting him safely between her breasts, close to her heart, leaning back on the pillows Mulder shoved behind her. Repeatedly kissing Will’s head and whispering nonsense love to fall on his ears, she glanced over, seeing Mulder settling beside her, “I’ve changed my mind. We should move here right now.”

“Give me time to train the newbies and ween myself from the guns and the monsters and we’ll talk.

Knowing that was about as likely to happen as her ever liking pie, she sank into the fantasy for a moment, then, “how about we meet in the middle and just come back here in a few weeks? Maybe bring the rest of the kids out sometime.”

“I’d like that. Have sandcastle contests and beach bonfires and hot dogs and s’mores …” trailing off, “damn it, I’m hungry again.”

With a chuckle, “I’ll take half of whatever you go get, if you don’t mind.”

“Sandwiches, coming up.”

&&&&&&&

Once fed, half-asleep and jelly-boned, Mulder slipped an arm over her belly, soft whisper in her ear, “I could get used to this.”

Pulled back from oblivious dreamland, she asked into the darkness, “aren’t you already used to this?”

“I question perfection, Scully, you should know that by now.”

Turning her head enough to kiss his temple, “don’t question this, Mulder. Whatever else happens in that head of yours, don’t question this … ever.”

“We should have another.”

“Kid or cottage?”

“Kid. Cottage. Both. House in Baja to surf whenever we want, kids to teach.”

“You’re dreaming, aren’t you?”

Breathing out a long sigh that signaled full-on sleep mere moments away, “you taught me how to hope, Scully. Unleashed a monster.”

She was awake the rest of the night, visions of a future out of her reach forefront in her ever tumbling mind.

&&&&&&&&&&&

They were so close to having a completely phone-free weekend but right there, smack dab in the middle of breakfast, Scully’s phone vibrated: across the table, onto the floor, plastic thump, then across the wood, stopping only when it hit a rug. Both stared at it silently, just the other side of amazed, “persistent little bugger, isn’t it?”

“I’m not looking at it until we are finished eating.”

Not about to cross her, he did set a little timer in his head to keep track of just how long the phone hiatus would last, knowing her and her familial connections wouldn’t allow her to ignore a possible issue with one of them for more than a few minutes.

3 minutes, 49 seconds.

She did pretty well in all honesty and he didn’t chide her about getting up, leaning over, retrieving electronic nonsense from the floor, “don’t say a word.”

“I’m not.”

But he would say more later, when she was a few hours from having caved to technology and could see the humor in the 3 minutes and 49 seconds.

“So, who’s yelling at you?”

“Mom.” Listening to the voice mail, she smiled, “she says she’s planning a surprise party for Walter in a few weeks and you are expected to keep him out of the house beforehand.”

Mulder studied the air above her head for a moment, then, “instead of dread, I feel something akin to gleeful anticipation. Is that wrong?”

“You’re going to make him crazy for the whole day, aren’t you?”

Nodding with an enthusiasm that made her just a little bit nervous, “Oh, your mother never should have given me her Walter.”

&&&&&&&&

Waiting until the very last possible moment to start the drive home, Mulder locked the door behind them, Scully standing still beside him, Will in her arms. When she didn’t move down the steps to the Jeep, he peered around her shoulder, “Scully?”

And then he saw tears streaming down her cheeks, soaking chin, shirt, kid, “do we really have to go home?”

He grabbed them both in the softest, bone-crushing hug he could, “you are adorable, you know that?”

One giant sniff later, she got herself under control, “I hate hormones.”

Squeezing her a second time, “come on, woman, we’ll be back in two weeks and how does staying a whole week sound?”

“Perfect.” Moving towards the car, “and just to remind you, if you breathe a word about this to anyone, I swear to you, you will never, ever, see me naked.”

Holding her hand down the steps, “we just had this talk yesterday, didn’t we?”

“How about I will never, ever, ever, share another bag of M&Ms with you so long as we both shall live.”

“Now that’s just mean.”

It’s throwback Thursday time … this is a goodie from 2009 (dragged kicking and screaming from Gossamer) … oi, these things amuse me at times :)

any and all errors are from the original post and have not been changed to preserve giggles and chuckles :)

@today-in-fic​

&&&&&&&&&&

He saw her sitting halfway up the bleachers, amidst yelling parents and clapping children. He knew she’d gone outside a good 15 minutes ago but since she’d neglected to come back, he though he’d better go and collect her. He didn’t move fast, more at his usual long-strided amble given there wasn’t much to hurry about anymore. Since the police station was next to the elementary school fields, he didn’t have far to walk; soon standing beside the rickety aluminum riser seats.

She didn’t notice him at first but when she did a general sweep of her surroundings, as was natural habit at this point, she lit on his face staring up at her and with a barely noticed head-tilt, she gave him a half smile.

Figuring this was an invite of the most discreet kind, he picked his way through the scattered crowd, settling next to her without a word. Silently, they sat together through the last minutes of the game as well as through the exodus of people, kids, strollers and family dogs.

It wasn’t until the last person stepped off the field that Mulder turned to her, squinting against the late afternoon sun, “hi.”

Pushing her hair back, only to have the light breeze ruffle it again, “hi.”

“So, got a little tired of Sheriff Blowhard and his parade of blightless minions?”

“A little. There’s only so much blowharding and blightlessness one can take. Besides,” nodding towards the now deserted field, "they looked like they needed another fan.”

Knocking shoulders with her gently, “you know, if we get our paperwork done, we can get the hell out of Dodge.”

Holding silent for a moment, “promise me our next case won’t be like this. I don’t think I can do this again anytime soon.”

“Well, I’ll try to order us up a nice, juicy monster but don’t hold your breath.”

“Just promise to try. That’s all I ask.”

One glance into her tired, dull eyes made him nod, “promise.”

“All right then.” Standing and holding her hand out to him, “let’s, as you put it, get the hell out of Dodge.”

“If only the place was actually called Dodge.”

“Getting the hell out of Parson Village doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it, does it?”

Finally down on the ground, they walked back across the parking lot, “not really.”

&&&&&&&&&

Working through the last of the forms, they said good-bye and left, glad to be leaving the place behind them. The drive back to the hotel was quiet but a companionable quiet, one where Mulder left the radio off and Scully stared out the open window, enjoying the fresh air and the colors of the setting sun.

Back at the hotel, “do you still want to leave now or wait until the morning?”

He knew she would prefer to go than stay and since he wasn’t tired, “now works for me.” Checking out went by in a flash and once Mulder had made a not so secretive trip to the vending machines, they were off, “you sure you want to drive first? I’m awake.”

Scully just turned the car on, “I’m good for now. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.”

“Fair enough.” Putting his seat back to a decent incline, he settled in, “mind if we keep the windows open for awhile?”

She gave him a smile, “as long as you don’t mind me having the wind blown look.”

“Naw, you wear it well.”

“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up.”

With a laugh, he rested one arm at his side, the other on the middle compartment, hand dangling by the shifter, “just say thanks, Scully.”

“Thanks, Mulder.”

He was feeling a bit mischievous but held off until they had been on the road for a few minutes. From his position, he could tell no one else was on the quiet country road and in a fairly nonchalant way, he made like he was turning on the radio but instead, pushed the shifter forward into neutral.

The engine revved, Scully looked around in panic, then saw Mulder’s hand beside the stick, “what the hell?” Shoving it back in drive, she swung and hit him near full force in the chest, “are you insane?”

Now for the fun part.

Wincing, he curled his arms to his chest, pretending the blow had actually hurt him, “damn. I was just gonna turn the radio on. I bumped it on accident.” Plastering an appropriate grimace on his face, “there’s less painful ways to kill me, you know.”

Her face scrunching in honest apology, “I’m so sorry. I thought you did it on purpose. I … I’m sorry.”

Rubbing his chest for good measure, “remind me to ask before moving next time.” The urge to laugh nearly won but he held it in, “I feel extremely sorry for any suspects on the receiving end of your fist.”

Automatically reaching over, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, “I’m sorry.”

“S'okay.” Wondering how long she’d keep her hand there, “was kind of funny though, wasn’t it?”

She shrugged, “maybe it will be later but right now, I just feel bad.”

“No harm, no foul, right?”

Keeping her hand on him with no sign of letting go, “right.”

&&&&&&&&&

They switched places a few hours later, Scully beginning to yawn and stretch to keep herself awake. Mulder, who’d managed a nap, readjusted the seat and mirrors before looking over at her, “all set?” Head already lolling on the seat and eyes closed, she only nodded.  As always amused by the swiftness she could fall asleep, he pulled the car out of the gas station and back on the freeway.She slept for about a half-hour, then woke again when he hit a bump in the road, “sorry.”

Shaking the cobwebs from her brain, “no, it’s okay.” After re-positioning the seat back, she stared out the window for a minute before, “where are we, anyway?”

When he turned to look around, she swiftly reached over, flipping a small switch on the dash, “we’re about 10 miles from the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s specific.”

He gave her a lopsided grin before looking back through the windshield.

She wondered how long it would take for him to notice.

Not long, she soon discovered.

Taking a cursory glance at the speedometer, he slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward slightly, “what the hell?” When he had looked, he saw in horror that he was doing 120. Still talking to himself, “there’s no way in hell I was doing 120.”

Playing along, “what?! You’re going 120? I don’t need to die tonight, Mulder.”

“I didn’t realize …”

“Just slow the hell down!!”

He shrank into the seat and heart pounding, he brought his speed back to 75 but when looking out the window, he would swear they were nearly crawling. She then watched him look from the speedometer to the road to the speedometer once again, then to the smile she couldn’t contain, “why the hell are all the gauges in metrics now?”

Reaching over, she re-flipped the switch, turning everything back to normal, “did you really think I’d let the neutral thing go unanswered?”

Instead of being annoyed, he looked at her admirably, “nice.”

&&&&&&&&&

She was sound asleep again an hour later when Mulder discovered he was contemplating how long he could shut his eyes before it got dangerous. Poking his finger into Scully’s thigh, “hey, you awake?”

When she only mumbled, he knew they were both done for the night but with only an hour left to go, he debated pushing it.

Until he heard his tires running on the rumble strip.

Yeah, it was time to stop.

Especially when he saw it … a bright beacon of hope in the distance.

Wal-Mart.

24-hour, anyone can sleep in the damn parking lot, beautiful, shiny Wal-Mart.

He pulled off the exit ramp and soon, he stopped the car in the center of a vast expanse of parking lot. Cracking the windows so they wouldn’t suffocate, he put his seat back, stretched and promptly fell asleep.

A blissful sleep that lasted almost a full two hours, until, “what the hell?”

The sound of her voice jolted him upright and his hand caught the horn, beeping it obnoxiously as he blinked against the painfully bright light in his eyes, “huh?”

By now, she was rolling down the window and being the least polite he’d ever heard her, “what!?”

The flashlight lowered but all Mulder could see was the spot it had burned into his retinas. The spot spoke in a low, male voice, “evenin’ folks.”

Again, Scully rolled off with, “what!?!”

“Just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

He could feel Scully building rapidly towards some other, more improper phrases and heading her off with a hand on her arm, “we were tired and thought we’d take a nap instead of wrapping ourselves around a telephone pole.” As the spot began to fade, he could make out an older gentleman behind the lowered flashlight, “I thought people could park and sleep here for the night?”

“RVs can park but ya’ll aren’t in an RV so I thought maybe you were havin’ some trouble.”

Hearing Scully sigh resignedly through her nose, he spoke again, “no trouble, sir. Just tired.”

“Well, ya’ll be careful.”

As he turned and walked away, Mulder looked at her irate expression, “hi.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

Unbuckling her belt, “I have to go to the bathroom and you’re coming with me.”

Opening his door, “why are you pissed at me? I didn’t scare the shit out of you with a flashlight.”

“Just come on.”

She stalked across the parking lot, Mulder trotting to catch up, then settling into an easy gait until they got to the store entrance, “are you gonna make me come in with you or do I get to wait outside the door?”

With eyes narrowed, she left him in the entryway and disappeared into the ladies room. Deciding to go himself, he still beat her back and was leaning on the wall when she came out drying her hands on her jeans. She seemed calmer and leaning next to him, “I’m hungry.”

Gesturing through the doors that led to the actual store, “I bet there’s something in there, if you’re willing to risk it.”

“Lead the way, partner.” Both were shocked by the amount of people in the store, “what time is it anyway?”

Finding her wrist with his hand, he twisted her watch around until he could read it, “um, 1:15.”

“Why are all these people here? Don’t they have homes and beds?”

“Insomniacs make the best shoppers.”

She let a small chuckle escape her nose, “just find me something to eat.”

Well, she should have known not to A) shop when she was hungry and 2) shop with Mulder. She should have also put her foot down when he suggested getting a cart.

An hour later, they were finally through the checkout.

Scully had found some sandwiches, drinks and chips for them both, then stupidly gave Mulder control of the cart. He immediately steered towards the entertainment section and was soon pawing through the $3.99 DVD bin.

That killed a half-hour right there. Damn those bins and their B-movie classics.

After he’d found several handfuls of movies, he veered through men’s clothing for socks, housewares for a new shower curtain (which Scully silently thanked God about), hardware to replace the two flashlights he’d left in their hotel rooms, back to menswear  for the underwear he’d forgot on the first trip (black boxer briefs, much to Scully’s amusement), then finally through women’s clothing, where he stopped in front of a rack of slogan t-shirts.

Standing for a moment, he studied them, then picked one up with an alien beside a spaceship who was pointing out and stating, “maybe WE don’t believe in you.” Holding it against her for a second, he tossed it in the cart and finally moved to the check-out.

She followed, dumbfounded by the last hour of her life, “Mulder … why …?”

“Shhhh, it’s too late to argue and too early to win.”

Whatever the hell that meant, she graciously allowed him to pay for their food, along with the industrial size Payday bar she tossed in at the last minute.

&&&&&&&&&&&

As they ate their makeshift dinner sitting in the car, “why did you buy me that t-shirt? Do you really think I’m gonna wear it?”

Grinning with a mouthful of half-chewed turkey, “you will. You’ll be getting dressed for something and you’ll just get the urge to put it on. So you will and you’ll realize you like it and that’ll be that.”

“Is this how you get your shopping done because I can see why your cupboards are bare.”

“Never ask about a man’s shopping habits.”

“Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Trade you sandwiches?”

He handed the rest of his sandwich to her immediately, taking her partially eaten roast beef in its place, “no dressing?”

“Nope.”

“So much to teach you, grasshopper.”

&&&&&&&&&

“I’ll drive if you want me to.”

Scully shook her head, “naw, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not tired now so I’ll keep you awake.”

With a grin in his direction, “God help me.”

“God’s probably asleep Scully. All you got is me.”

“Again, God help me.”

&&&&&&&&&&

They were finally navigating Washington’s outskirts by 3:30. He watched her staring ahead and fought the demon lurking inside him.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

It would be evil and wrong and cruel and more than likely funny as all hell … if she didn’t kill him afterwards.

 …

He’d risk it.

Waiting another minute or so, he spied a light blinking in the distance and as they approached it, he braced his feet against the floor. Once they were about 10 feet away, he yelled, gripping the dashboard and the doorframe, “blinking yellow!!!”

She locked up the brakes, as expected, and bought the car to a screeching halt. The stop flung both forward, then back against their seats, with Scully screaming in his ear, “son of a bitch … it’s yellow Mulder! I don’t have to stop for a blinking yellow!”

Looking at her with as much seriousness as he could muster, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Then why the hell did you yell ‘blinking yellow’ in my ear!?”

“I didn’t know if you saw it.”

He had never witnessed her nostrils flaring before and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, she looked kind of cute doing it but … “are you trying to get us killed?”

He was now smiling despite the fact she had steam shooting out her ears, “there was no one behind us. I checked.”

Another nostril flare came his way before she turned the car off, still sitting in the middle of the intersection, got out and moving to his side of the car, pulled open the door, “drive.”

Still grinning, he scrambled over the gearshift, Scully sliding smoothly into his seat, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

Silence, he had not expected. Yelling, hitting, yes but not quiet. Quiet from Scully meant planning, concocting, calculating, organizing … quiet meant bad things … quiet meant very deep piles of shit with him underneath.

“Scully …”

“Home.”

Suddenly sober, he restarted the car, “I was just playing.”

“Home,” she repeated, then, instead of returning to sleep, she dug some gum from the glove compartment and proceeded to chew a wad of it, very loudly.

Now, he could take bullets, he could take slime, he could take beratement of the highest degree and, as demonstrated, he could even take bile but he absolutely despised the cud-chewing noises she was making. He withstood it for a long as humanly possible before, “could you please get rid of that? You sound like a damn cow.”

“You want me to get rid of the gum?”

“Yes!”

“Where do you want me to put it?”

His mistake was answering too quickly, “anywhere. I don’t care. Just stop chewing it.”

“Okay then.” Undoing her seatbelt, she twisted so she faced him, and in a gracefully disgusting move, she rolled the gum in her fingers, then proceeded to push it up his nose.

He knew something was coming and completely powerless to stop it, he just sat there as a thumb-size chunk of grape Hubba-Bubba was fitted into his right nostril.

She then calmly sat back down and re-buckled herself in.

He left the gum there as he turned to her, “Scully?”

“Yes, Mulder.”

“I believe we’re even now.”

Her belly laugh echoed off the windows and he began laughing as well, slipping the gum from his nose and putting it in his mouth.

Through her laughter, she grimaced, “eww, that’s disgusting.”

“But it’s grape.”

&&&&&&&&&

They finally made it to Mulder’s apartment and since her brain had drifted completely, she didn’t really notice where they were until he stopped the car, “why are we here?”

“Literally or existentially because I don’t think I can take a metaphysical discussion at the moment?”

“Literal.”

“You drove. You drop me off then drive yourself home.”

“Where’s your car, Mulder?”

Pointing to where he always parked, he saw an empty spot, “your house.” His head dropped to the steering wheel, “damn.” Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, “I’ll take you home.”

“No. I want out of the damn car and I want to go to sleep. Right now.”

“Then grab the bags from the store … I’ll get the suitcases.” They managed to make it in his door before dropping everything simultaneously. Mulder then re-picked up her bag and set it in his bedroom, “I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I will. I shoved gum up your nose.”

“And I yelled ‘blinking yellow’.”

Contemplating for a half second, “you’re right.”

He gave her a grin, “just help me change the sheets first.” Nodding, she had the bed stripped by the time he came back with a clean set. They finished in no time and he stepped back, nodding his head, “two people make that way faster.”

“Anytime Mulder but for now, I’m using your bathroom then going to bed.”

“Aye, aye captain.”

Meeting him in the hall on the way back from the bathroom, “g’night, Mulder.”

“’Morning, Scully.”

Before going to the bedroom, she grabbed one last thing, then changed, crawled under the clean sheets and was out before her head hit the pillow.

&&&&&&&&&&

He woke up leisurely. The phone hadn’t rung, no one had knocked on his door, obnoxious garbage men hadn’t rattled the dumpsters … he had woken up because he had finally caught up on his sleep. Marveling at the idea, he stood and moved silently towards his bedroom to check to see if she was awake yet.

Finding her spread eagle on her stomach, covers twisted around her and bare leg sticking out, foot hanging off the side of the bed, he nearly laughed when he saw her wearing the neon green t-shirt he’d bought the night before.

Deciding to let her sleep, he went to the bathroom, then made himself a bowl of cereal. By the time he’d sat down with his second helping, he heard the creak of his bedroom door. Looking up, he saw her standing there, hair tousled, eyes partially open, wearing only the t-shirt, which fell to mid-thigh. Swallowing the frogs in her throat, “’morning.”

After a glance at the DVD player’s clock, “afternoon.” Without comment, she padded across the cool floor and dropped down next to him, curling her legs underneath her. Covering them with his blanket, she reached over, took the spoon and helped herself to a large spoonful of cereal. Shaking the milk off, she had it nearly to her mouth when he finally spoke, “I thought you said you’d never wear that shirt?”

As the cereal entered her mouth, her lips quivered in the slightest of smiles, “shut up, Mulder.”

a ‘momentary’ follow-up … of sorts …

Our Moments:
Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts)
Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori)
Chapter 3: Interim(floating somewhere around Unrequited)
Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)
Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes
Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own
Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins
Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2)
Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

post-Redux/Redux 2

… their moments … from now on …

Our Moments:
Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts)
Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori)
Chapter 3: Interim(floating somewhere around Unrequited)
Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)
Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes
Chapter 6:The Warmest Thing I Own
Chapter 7:Fancy Paper Napkins ​
Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He put her through hell the next two weeks and finally, seeing her on the other side of the hospital window, he splintered, leaning forward, unable to breath, overwhelming sorrow manifesting in yelled demands of people who couldn’t answer his pleas.

He thought he was quiet at her bedside that night, the world bearing down on both of them, but as he sobbed into her sheets, he felt her hand drift though his hair, nails lightly scratching scalp, “it might be a little tight, but I think we’ll both fit if we try.”

Mess that he was, he stood, dragged his hands over his face to clear away at least some of the nonsense before disappearing to blow his nose on some toilet paper from the bathroom. Coming back in, he shuffled towards her, whispering, “I snuck in. What if I fall asleep and can’t sneak back out?”

“I’m dying, Mulder. I can do what I want and right now, I want you in here with me.”

Deep breath of acceptance at her now-undeniable retort, he did as ordered, wedging himself behind her, back to front, arm hesitant over her belly, full length curl around her. He could feel her ribs against his forearm, her bony hip under his elbow, sharp shoulder blades pressing his chest, “we need to get you a milkshake.”

“If I could keep one down, I’d send you right now but puking up ice cream will just ruin it.”

“I see your point.” Sniffing latent snot back up his nose, he apologized, then, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Soaking up his warmth like a sponge, “I’m not sleeping that well these days anyway, and …” running off into oblivion, she finished the sentence a moment later, “well, I’d rather spend all the time I can with you, even if it’s at whatever the hell time it is and in a hospital bed.”

“A good cuddle does have its merits.”

That got a smile from her, “thank you.”

“For what?”

This time she found the words she couldn’t after he made her dinner, “for doing all those things that a partner would do; that a husband, a best friend, that family would do.”

Well, that made his heart break for the hundredth time that day, and mouth to neck yet again, his words rustled her hair and vibrated her soul, “well, you are my partner and my best friend, which makes us family and I think I fit the category of work husband so I’ve got all the bases covered.”

Reaching for his hand, she pulled it up to her face, kissing his knuckles before tucking it under her cheek, “we need to talk about a few things.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“Yes, we do. Let me take the fall, please? I need to know you’re okay once I’m gone.”

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

“We can have that argument tomorrow. Right now, just let me enjoy this, all right?”

She heard his mental screams of ‘Stop It!’ and she did, nodding against his hand, “all right but tomorrow, you’re listening to me.”

Wanting to cocoon her, tuck her inside himself, hide her away so the cancer and the fear and the reality of it all couldn’t find her, he hugged her closer, spooned behind her tight, “maybe.” That’s as good as she would get tonight and accepting it, she did her best to forget everything but the moment. A pleasant ‘hmm’ purred out a minute later and, hearing it as well as feeling it against his chest, “what was that for?”

Not realizing she’d made the sound until it was too late, “living in my moment, Mulder.”

“Our moment.”

For half a second, she wanted to cry, “You’re right. Our moment.”

&&&&&&&&&

He was gone when she woke up, the nurse checking on her telling her quietly, “he snuck out about 20 minutes ago.” Seeing her still sleepy look of disappointment, she smiled, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you; he’ll be back.”

Alone a moment later, she tried to work herself into a rage because he left without saying good-bye and without talking to her like she’d asked but, in the end, it was Mulder and she really should have expected it. Returning to her side, facing the door, she shut her eyes, imagining he was still behind her.

&&&&&&&&&&

He appeared the next day, glass vial offering a last-ditch effort in his fight to save her. He watched her argue with her family, fight her doctors, grasp onto a fading hope without which, she would be forced to make him sit, discuss funeral arrangements, ask him to give up while holding her hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

First Skinner left her room, then her brother, then, finally, Maggie, who gave him a hug and told him, without words but the slightest of head nods, that Scully was inside waiting for him. He gave it another minute, still processing, still gripping the bloody picture, still marveling at the news that was, indeed, real.

Opening her door slowly, the first thing he saw was not a smile but her piercing gaze that ranged in interpretation, over the years, from raging irritation to unbridled happiness. Todays was more of a confused relief bordering on reserved elation, “Mom says you’ve been sitting in the hallway.”

“Your mother deserved the first hug.”

“Are you going to be my third?”

“Patience, woman. I give you a hug now, we’ll both be crying for the next hour.” Shooting her his first mischievous grin in months, “I am breaking all kinds of rules still being here. Three people have asked me to leave already.”

She’d been prepared to talk for a few minutes, then go to sleep but suddenly, that wasn’t cutting it anymore, “You want to go for a drive?”

Finally approaching her, he pressed his thighs against the edge of the bed, leaning just enough forward but keeping his hands in his pockets, schoolboy asking a question of his favorite girl, “your place or mine?”

She hadn’t even thought that far ahead in the discussion but now that it was out there, hanging in the air, she gave him a smile, “your place. We haven’t been there in awhile.”

“Luckily I just changed the sheets a few days ago.”

Holding eye contact, swearing for one second she could actually see into his soul, she found herself moving her legs, bumping into Mulder as she sat upright, slid off the bed, “go find me my clothes.”

They didn’t so much sneak from the hospital as walk out, quietly, Scully’s bag in Mulder’s one hand, Mulder’s other on her back, pressed to muscle and bone, fingers loose-gripping the back of her shirt. No one said a word, elevator their immediate destination, anywhere else in the world their quest. The air was balmy, the breeze light, and Scully stopped the moment the automatic doors shut behind her, inhaling deep.

Mulder, nearly knocking her over, suddenly panicked, “what? What’s wrong?”

Her head spun, giddy and light, “just … overwhelmed for a minute.”

“Do you need to go back inside?”

Shaking her head vehemently, “no … no, I just … your place, please.”

“Food first?”

“No. I … that’s too much right now.” Looking up at her partner, suddenly exhausted, “a bed would be nice and some drugs when we get to your place.”

“Home it is, then.” He valeted the car, tucked her inside, and drove away, aiming towards his apartment. She was dozing by the second turn and fully asleep by the time he pulled up to the curb. Crouching beside her open passenger door, hand on thigh, voice low, he began coaxing her in a soft voice reserved for just such occasions, “hey, Scully? Wake up. We’re here and you’ve gotta stay awake long enough to deal with the front steps and the elevator.”

Blinking her eyes open, they rolled around for a moment before focusing, “okay. Don’t let me fall down.”

“Never.”

He wanted to laugh at her swaying walk, likening it to her drunken trek a year ago at her mother’s surprise birthday party. Not saying that aloud, however, he steered her to his door then inside.

He set her bag down, then took her coat, hanging it before heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water so she could take her meds and lay down. Asking over his shoulder what type of pain killer she wanted, he glanced back when she didn’t answer. Finding her still rooted to her spot beside the hat rack, he stopped, took in the tears already rolling, then held out his hand, waving her towards him, “come here.” She did, shuffling, leaving shoes behind and walking into him, the collision backing him up a few steps. Accepting the momentum, he continued moving, sitting down on the arm of the couch, level with her now, arms tight around her neck, her face hidden in his shirt, “what’s wrong?”

“It can’t be real, Mulder. It can’t. It shouldn’t have worked.”

“But it did. You saw the scans.”

“But what if I go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow and it’s back?”

Shifting her away, he settled hands on cheeks, thumbs against eyebrows, painting over them lightly, absently, as he tilted her head to meet her tear-y gaze, “it won’t be but if it is, but it won’t be, we will figure it out … together … all right? We got here once and we can do it again … but we won’t have to, so don’t worry about it.”

Her hands were around his wrists, “I think you just gave me a headache.”

“I’ve been giving you headaches for four years now. What’s new?”

“This.” Leaning in, she kissed him, barely brushing his lips but setting his world on fire in the process, “I’ve got, to sound trite, a new lease on life and I’m not wasting it.” Kissing him again, before swaying dangerously to one side, “but I am going to ask that we sleep through a little bit of it because if I don’t lay down soon, I’m going to end up on your floor.”

He wiped the few remaining tears from her cheeks before he kissed her back, light but claiming, “do you mind some company?”

“I have never minded your company.” Yawning, she turned white, an immediate sweat beading on her upper lip, “but I need to lay down … now.”

Walking her to the bed, he gave her a shirt and some shorts, some drugs and a glass of water, then, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Returning with a second blanket, he found her curled, body imprint stamped on ‘her’ side of the bed forevermore. His giddiness in the moment nearly made him laugh but containing it, he settled beside her, spare blanket at their feet. His hand went to her forehead, thumb in gentle circles between her eyebrows.

It was gone.

He had her back.

And he wasn’t going to waste a minute of the time they had left.

Which was a lot longer than they’d had mere hours earlier.

He didn’t fall asleep for hours.

Watching her breathe.

&&&&&&&&&&

Neither should have been awake but when Mulder opened his eyes, he found himself staring at an empty pillow and equally empty bed. Squinting towards the dawn-grey living room and the darkened bathroom, he looked over his shoulder, finding his target standing by the open window, leaning on the frame.

Rolling over, he tucked the pillow under his head, yawning, then watching her for a minute before she felt his eyes on her and turned towards him, quiet.

His mind was open and slow, filters off, walls down, and in that very moment, the only thing he had left in the world to say was “I love you.”

Her slow spreading smile lit up the darkening room, thunder rumbling as a storm moved in. It stopped just shy of a full-on grin, then dropped back to slightly upturn lip curl, sigh deep, eyes closing for a moment to collect the proper words from the universe, before sending them drifting across to him slow and steady, “and I … finally have the time … to love you back.”

Mulder’s smile spread at the same speed hers did, pushing into the pillow, squashing face glowing, “is this another one of our moments?”

“They are all our moments from now on, Mulder. All of them.”

because doesn’t everybody eat their fancy meals with fancy paper napkins …

Our Moments:
Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts)
Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori)
Chapter 3: Interim(floating somewhere around Unrequited)
Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)
Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes
Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own
Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

He actually slept, his mind calm, until he heard her whispering in his ear, “what are you cooking and when will it be ready?”

Opening his eyes, he saw hers staring at him, awake and bright, “what?”

“I’m hungry and I saw the crockpot plugged in.”

He broke into a grin, more from her proximity than anything else and forcing himself not to look at her mouth, not to think of that kiss, “mushrooms. Garlicy, buttery mushrooms that have been slow cooking in the crockpot,” looking over her head at the clock, “for four hours.” Sitting up quickly, “shit. I have to go stir them.”

Rolling off the bed, he disappeared down the hall, Scully close behind, “they won’t burn.”

“I’ll feel better when I see for myself.” Finally in the kitchen, he opened the crockpot, stirred with the big spoon, and glad to see the mushrooms soft and unburned, offered Scully a taste. Refusing with an, ‘I’d like to wait for dinner,’ he nodded towards the fridge, “go grab the steak, would you?”

They ate like civilized people, at the kitchen table, forks, knives, fancy paper napkins …

… “I refuse to use cloth ones because they’re too damn hard to clean.”

… “Did I say anything?”

… “No.”

… “Then why are you arguing at me?”

and a bottle of not-so-cheap wine Mulder found in his travels through Scully’s cupboards.

“I shouldn’t drink this.”

“Will it lower your inhibitions? Will you sweep off the coffee table and dance on it if I wave a bunch of ones at you? Will you tell me all your secrets?”

She couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she poured them both glasses, “mostly I’m thinking that it’ll make me fall asleep even early that I probably would have already.”

Ignoring the tremor, “as long as you stay awake enough for ice cream.”

“I will do my best.”

She made it through half the steak, a bowl of mushroom, and three spoons of mashed potatoes, before finally giving in, trading her plate for Mulder’s empty, who continued to eat without pause. Watching him, she had to smile, “thank you.”

“For finishing your food? No problem.”

Not able to articulate at that particular moment that she was actually thanking him for a thousand things at once, she simply agreed, wondering if he’d figure it out on his own, “yeah, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

Giving her a grin, he finished her food, then stood, “give me ten minutes to do dishes and put everything away, then we’ll argue about movies.”

“Let me load the dishwasher, at least. You won’t do it right and I’ll just have to redo it when you’re not looking.” Standing as well, she bumped hips with him as she walked past, “save me the trouble.”

Twisting up his leg, he hit her on the butt with his stocking foot, “smartass.”

They finally settled on several movies but still sitting on the couch, facing a blank TV and a window with a sunset just beginning to tint the room pink, Mulder gently poked her in the side, “how’re you doing?”

Feeling the urge to move, to take advantage of feeling okay for the moment, “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”

Up immediately, he leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, “any destination in mind?”

“Just … around.”

“Around it is.”

&&&&&&&&&

Warm enough to wander without jackets, they headed out her front door and turned left, bare arm brushing bare arm as they walked. They didn’t say much, commenting on scurrying squirrels here, a cute cat in the window there, Mulder catching a waywardly stumbling child tripping past, “geez, if I had known we were going to be experiencing a Norman Rockwell painting, I would have combed my hair and put on a clean shirt.”

Her laughter hit his ears like his favorite song and reaching over, he took her hand, never asking, never letting go as they circled and turned, ambled and veered. She didn’t argue, her thin, cool fingers enjoying his warmth.

But even on her best days lately, she gave in quicker than she’d have liked, 45 being the magic number of minutes she lasted until, “I think I’m ready for some ice cream.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, “ice cream it is. What kind should we start with?”

Discussion ensued and by the time they were in their pajamas, they’d settled on dark fudge and peanut butter swirl to begin with. Two spoons dove in, two spoons sampled, occasionally Scully would pull her loaded spoon out and looking at Mulder, found his mouth wide open, waiting expectantly.

And by God, she fed him.

The first time felt a little weird but by the third time he did it, she was laughing, “can you not feed yourself fast enough?”

“Nope.”

That was good enough for her.

Once the gorging finished, they’d had at least one spoonful out of each carton Mulder had bought, six in all, the flavors running the gambit and Scully full and happy and sleepy. “Are you going to be able to sleep with all that sugar in your system?”

Mulder grinned, chocolate rimming his lips, “if not, I’ll have a TV to keep me company while you drool all over your pillow.” A relieved sigh, one she didn’t know she was holding, escaped, and Mulder cocked his head, suddenly worried, “y’a’right?”?”

And deciding there was no reason not to tell him, “I think I was nervous you were going to go home tonight and,” another sigh, this one embarrassed, “it’s been a really nice day and if you went home, it would be over and,” slight wobbly smile appearing, “I don’t want it to be over just yet.”

Knowing something funny was in order, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, “is that some veiled attempt at asking me to move in here?”

Her smile steadied, “just go start the movie.”

&&&&&&&&&

Midnight rolled around and even though Scully had given in and gone to bed, Mulder was still awake and indeed watching TV, some cooking show he’d never admit to enjoying but enjoyed nonetheless. The sound was off and suddenly, the quiet of the darkened apartment was broken by Scully calling from the bedroom, “Mulder?”

It didn’t sound like a nightmare which, in his mind, could only mean she needed help. Jogging down the hall, he was in her doorway a second later, “yeah? You okay?”

Still laying down, she met his nervous gaze, her own a unique brand of terrified confusion, “am I still here?”

Immediately walking to the other side of the bed, he crawled under the covers, his hand meeting her cheek after she rolled over to face him, “yeah. You’re right here, in your bed.” When her terror didn’t fade, he continued, quieter, moving to meet her forehead with his, “you’re with me, in your apartment,” hand moving to the back of her neck, “whatever you dreamt wasn’t real.”

“It will be.” Feeling the bed shake as she hitched a silent sob, she managed a cracked whisper, “I don’t want to die.” Her fingers ran over his cheek, his ear, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

The tear escaped before he could blink it away but he kept the others in, reservoir full but holding, “we’re gonna beat this. I guarantee it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to believe him anymore and she couldn’t keep up the lie at this hour, “you don’t know that.”

“But I choose to believe it.” Hand in her hair by now, he pulled her close enough that their noses were smushed together and eyelashes tangled, “I need to believe it.”

Maybe she could pretend a little more after all, “do you believe enough for both of us?”

“I believe enough for this whole damn world. You should know that by now.”

She could only nod against him, bringing their mouths to millimeter distances but refraining, crippling fear not a good enough reason to cross the line between them, “can you stay right here with me, tonight?”

He crossed it for them, a quick brush of lips, a quick nuzzle of noses, “I won’t move until you do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Both knew the translation of that:

I don’t want to die alone.

&&&&&&&&

The next morning, Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder still sharing her pillow, not touching anymore but close enough to have him blurry in front of her instead of clear. For five seconds, she forgot her world and felt warm fuzzies chasing through her, up and down her spine, settling low.

Then, reality set in with a resounding thud.

Pulling back, she sat up, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the tears racing down her face. Neither could ignore the echoing sob, however and Mulder, already half-awake, sat up, confusion clearing in a heartbeat as he slid across the mattress, arm around her front, hugging her back to his chest. Kissing her neck and that hated, fucking scar, “we’re gonna win. I swear to God, we’re gonna win.”

And they cried together.

Feeling good enough for the time being to attempt herding Mulder in a grocery store … 

Our Moments:
Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts)
Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori)
Chapter 3: Interim(floating somewhere around Unrequited)
Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max)
Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes
Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The following morning, she woke him up, stretching beside him, humming as her muscles flexed and moved, liquid twist of spine and limb. He felt her and opened his eyes, finding the room grey but light, “what time is it?”

Her voice scratched out an, ‘I don’t care’ before burying her head back in the pillow.

“Are we not caring today? ‘Cause I can get behind not caring today.” Reaching out to poke her side, “how are you feeling?”

Rolling in his direction, she gave him a smile that could have lit the city had she come with plug and adaptor, “I actually feel okay. I don’t think I’ve slept like that in weeks.”

“No nightmares?”

“No. Only dreams of farmhouses and men in kilts.”

Mulder laughed, “more than one?”

“Maybe.” Sighing deep, “it’s Saturday, right? Now, I know we’d normally share the worry today but I think I’d rather ignore it completely and go grocery shopping and maybe make dinner and eat a gallon of ice cream.”

“It’s actually Friday but I’m good with all that anyway.” Finally able to see the clock on her nightstand, “it’s 8:27 so I vote you call Skinner while I go shower, then we commence.”

Booping his nose, “you’ve got five minutes or I’m coming in.”

Good God.

He knew she was joking. Had to be joking. But he found himself washing a little slower than usual, wanted to see what she would do at the five-minute mark.

She stood outside the bathroom door at 4 minute, 45 seconds, hand on knob. She felt giddy and free and happy and relatively well and the thought of opening the door made her stomach tighten but would it be all kinds of stupid?

Five minutes.

She felt her hand turning the damn handle.

Just as Mulder pulled the door open.

She stumbled forward into wet flesh, towel around waist holding fast as Mulder took a step back, catching her in his arms, “hi there.”

Both knew she had been opening the door.

“Hi.”

“Almost didn’t make it.” Eyes sparking down at her, given he now knew she had been opening the door, “damn slow water heater.”

She was red.

It amused him.

“Were you coming in for something?”

Something, at the moment, in her mind, was removing his towel and taking him back into the shower but instead, she pointed around him, “toothbrush.”

His grin made her shake her head, slip under his arm, brush her teeth, and keep taking deep breaths.

They were both crazy.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Grocery shopping with Mulder was akin to herding cats. She looked left at something, he threw three things from the right into the cart. She questioned two of them and winning, turned right to replace them on the shelf while Mulder, pouting, turned left, tossing in two other things, plus a box of Twinkies.

Finally, she threated to make him sit in the cart and while he looked her square in the eye, evaluating life and limb, he reached up, tipping a box of CocoPuffs from the top shelf into the cart, never breaking eye contact.

By the end, they had at least remembered the juice boxes.

Steaks were the order of the day, Mulder waving away her cheap-ass $6.00 on sale frugal fingers in favor of the New York strips, thick, red, mouth-watering, and definitely not $6.00. Mistaking her longing look for hunger, he gently turned her away, “we need to cook them first.”

Swallowing, “I know.”

Mashed potatoes followed, “yes, I’m getting the box of potato flakes because real potatoes are too damn much work.”

“Fine by me.” Then came the three pounds of mushrooms, “who the hell is washing all these dishes?”

Mulder smiled, tossing a bulb of garlic in the cart, “dishwasher. You have one but you never use it. I’ll teach you how tonight.”

She just kept stealing glances at the steaks.

Ice cream came last, small tubs of chocolate, cherry, orange sherbet, mint, dark fudge, and peanut butter swirl, “I like variety. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just wondering if either of us will be able to fit through the front door by the time we’re done.”

“You could stand to gain twenty pounds.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, bring reality into their fun but glancing at her, he saw understanding in her eyes, her hand finding its way into his for a moment, “I’d rather not do it all in one night, if that’s okay?”

She got a long hug for that, shoppers steering around the odd couple embracing in the freezer section but smiling at them regardless because, really, there’s nothing wrong with a little love in frozen foods.

Mulder paid the bill and Scully didn’t fight it, especially after she saw the amount of items he’d stashed in the basket under her radar, “how did I not see any of this?”

“Once you caught sight of the steaks, I could have jammed an elephant in here and you’d have never noticed.” Handing the cashier his credit card, “little woman’s got an appetite.”

Swatting him on the arm, “Mulder! Did you see how many things of ice cream you got? I don’t know how we’re going to fit all that in the freezer.”

The cashier grinned, handing him his card back, “you can always buy her a bigger freezer.”

“This is very true. Freezer shopping next.”

Scully gave up, “that’ll be tomorrow’s trip. We’ll just have to eat all this tonight.”

“Challenge accepted.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Back at the apartment, groceries spread from one end of the counter to the other, Scully was mid-ice cream put away when she stopped, hand shaking, head spinning. After a second, she turned to Mulder, his back to her, “I’m, um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lay down.” Her hand was already rubbing her forehead, “are you okay putting everything away?”

Turning, his stomach sank at how pasty pale she’d become in the last two minutes, “yeah. I’m fine. Go take a nap.”

She was already moving, one hand on the wall of the hall to steady herself as she headed to the bedroom. Once alone, he slowly, methodically, put the groceries in their proper places, shutting cupboards quietly, trying not to rattle pasta or click jars. Five minutes and a fully stocked kitchen later, he realized it was only a little after one. She’d made it four hours. It had been a good four hours but …

If he dwelled on that, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, cursing the sky, fist shaking in the air. Instead, he pulled the mushrooms back out, deciding some manual cooking labor would keep his mind occupied.

That and trying not to cut the tips of his fingers off.

Three pounds of mushrooms, a stick of butter, six cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of salt, and ½ that of pepper later, and small, diced onion to boot, he set her crockpot to warm, snapped the lid tight, and wondered what next.

Sheets.

Put the sheets in the dryer.

Checking that the stains were gone, he hit the button to set the machine humming.

Clean up.

Last night’s Chinese cartons and chopsticks were still on the coffee table. Trash. Check.

Take out the trash. It smelled. He killed five minutes tying the bag, walking it to the garbage chute. Coming back inside and locking the door.

Then he stood there. Tight circle rotating, trying to find something else.

He knew what he wanted to do but felt he shouldn’t. She was fine. She would yell for him if need be.

Bu something kept pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

“Fuck it.”

He made his way to her door to find her curled on the bed, small lump under thick covers. Stealing to the other side, he carefully lay down, sliding under the quilt in silence. If she wanted to, she could hit him later for arriving in her bed unannounced.

He would love it if she had the strength to hit him hard enough for it to make an impact.

Then again, she’d hit him before and it never made an impact.

It mostly just made him more stubborn and annoying.

He couldn’t help a small smile as he thought about how irritating he could be but she just kept coming back anyways.

She’d come back from this, too. She had to.

She had no choice.

He could see the tension in her face, even while asleep, forehead wrinkled, eyebrows tight. Reaching out, he began massaging between her eyes, imaging that fucking tumor only an inch below his thumb. How the hell could they not take the damn thing out? It was right there.

Right.

There.

Another thought he had to banish from his mind or screaming would ensue, he kept rubbing, watching her face slowly relax, pinched look disappearing, “mmmhmm.”

Soft sound in the back of her throat told him to keep going, small circles, occasionally venturing to the round bones surrounding her eyes, the bridge of her nose, up to her hairline. Another ‘hhmmmm’ later, then a deep sigh, she rolled to her back, making his task a little harder, arms more awkward in their reach.

Shifting slightly, arm now across her chest, he continued. Feeling himself drifting off, his thumb movements lighter and slower, he felt her turn her head, face him, “Mulder?”

“Hi.” Rolling towards him once again, her hands slipped under his arm and one palm to his face, she moved forward, kissing him. Shocked, he pulled back after a moment, “are you awake or asleep?”

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing. You said something and I thought … I just wasn’t sure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.”

Caught in limbo of dreams and Mulder, she didn’t care, and scooted closer, into his arms, “you are the warmest thing I own.” Snuggling into him, about as up close and personal as they could get fully clothed on a Friday afternoon, “I like it.”

She so totally did own him and he would be perfectly fine declaring that by billboard, sky writer, or booming voice from the sky. Lips to her forehead, he left them there as he agreed, “I do, too.”

&&&&&&&&&