I imagine them meeting at a bar that plays electroswing, a perfect blend of modern and retro music. Vox, who also grew up in the 20-30’s, can keep up with Alastor‘s vigorous jitterbug.
@lescahiersdesable @themimsyborogove I can’t tell if this is getting annoying or not? I feel like I’m spamming. I just don’t want to pester you guys with us or you have other stuff you wanna do have to do. 🥲 Rarepair uncertainty strikes again! Ao3 link
In short: Annabel and Malcolm go dancing at a speakeasy. 1920’s AU.
The spun onto the dance floor gracefully, a bottle of whiskey held between them.
Annabel was a Revelation: beaded dress, stockinged-feet — their shoes were thrown somewhere behind them, discarded in a lonesome pile — blood-red lips, hair cut short in a boy’s styling.
She drunk deeply, then broke free of his arms, spinning out of his reach and continuing to dance on her own, swaying like a charmed snake and stamping her feet in time with the beat of the music.
Malcolm fitted his lips to where hers had been on the neck of the bottle, and drank, watching her all the while over the lip.
The whiskey was bitter.
Her lipstick was sweet.
And he was dreadfully, terrifyingly in love with his best friend.
Going through my stories and I don’t think I’ve posted this here before. I honestly was not super aware of how to post stories here for the longest time. Anyway, even if I had, no reason not to post it again, eh? We could always use more fics to read, right?
This story was written for the summer fanfic exchange last year. The prompt was this: “Something a la Gillovny Cutting Room party era rumors, but MSR.” Now... this was a little tricky, but I got the job done. : )
Hope you enjoy. : )
The basement in the J. Edgar Hoover building, was always subject to rumor and urban legend. Even when no one worked down there, nor had any desire to, it was still discussed. Boxes, old files, and copy machines were all that occupied the space for years, and yet stories were still told of it.
There were far too many dark corners where a person could meet for a rendezvous with another for there not to be rumors. No one ventured down there too often, so the space was perfect. The whispers that reached the ears of agents becoming a mixture of fact and fiction.
While time had changed some things, it had not changed everything. The copy machines were taken out, files cleared away, and boxes tossed as they became too weak and ripped when relocation was attempted. A small bathroom was added to the space, and a storage area was walled off to better confine, contain, and organize the files, keeping them out of the open area and behind a locked door where they could no longer be easily rummaged through. People agreed it looked much better, but still it was not an area with heavy foot traffic or spoken of too often.
That is, until the day Fox “Spooky” Mulder took up residence down there. That was when the rumors really began. He was thought to be a crazy alien nut who liked the weird cases. Cases others would not touch. He was hardly seen wandering the halls. Instead, he immersed himself in his ideas and theories.
Fox Mulder was brilliant, and also quite handsome. Some women overlooked his “spookiness” and tried to get his attention. They flirted when they saw him and asked him about the cases he worked on, but none of them stuck around long. His answers were so long winded that those who asked often required a bread crumb trail to find their way back to reality.
No, for the majority of his time in the basement office, Mulder was considered weird and generally avoided by his colleagues who did not wish to be treated to a story about Sasquatch or aliens. The rumors about him were rampant, but for the most part, Mulder was left to his own devices.
That all changed the day he was assigned a new partner, Dana Scully. She was a fairly new agent, a medical doctor recruited to join the FBI as a forensic pathologist. Dana Scully had arrived with rumors of her own.
“Do you really think that’s her natural hair color?”
“Did you hear she dated Jack Willis? He’s so much older than her. I guess he likes them young.”
Perhaps one of the worst rumors, especially considering she did date Jack, was the name she acquired at the academy: The Ice Queen. She was rumored to turn down men and not “put out,”even after being wined and dined. She was also rumored to be a ball buster who was frigid because she did not date fellow agents. As if her dating life was a measure of who she was as a person.
Women who tried to get Mulder’s attention before Scully showed up, were envious and rude towards her, leaving her disinterested in forming relationships, even with colleagues her same age who had similar backgrounds. This only served to perpetuate the rumors circulated, but Scully did not let the rumors affect her, knowing it would make no difference if she tried to quell them or not. She was not one who required many friends, and she enjoyed her work. She kept her head down and worked, not worrying over relationships, hers or anyone else’s.
Not until early on a Tuesday morning, when a wild rumor flew resulting in them being called to Skinner’s office to answer some questions, did she give it much thought.
Sitting outside his office, waiting for Mulder to arrive, Scully clasped and unclasped her hands, breathing deeply. Closing her eyes, she put her head down, the call to come to Skinner’s office still ringing in her ear, his shout like an echo.
“Hey." She heard Mulder say quietly as he sat next to her on the couch. She opened her eyes and looked at him, watching him smooth down his tie as he smiled slightly at her. “So how angry is he?” He tilted his head toward the door and Scully shook her head.
“Agents? You can go in now,” said Arlene, Skinner’s secretary, with a slight smile. Scully sighed as she stood up and walked toward the door with Mulder following close behind her.
Entering the room, Skinner had his back to them, looking out the window. No one else was in the room, and Scully sighed again as she sat down, Mulder taking the seat beside her. He glanced at her, but she did not look at him, her eyes facing forward waiting for Skinner to turn around.
A few minutes passed before Mulder cleared his throat, and Skinner’s shoulders slumped before he turned around. He stared at both of them, his gaze holding on Scully’s as he breathed deeply.
“I take no pleasure in calling both of you in here to discuss the things that have come to my attention. I believe you know that Agent Scully, considering our phone call earlier,” Skinner said, his eyes burning into hers. She sighed and nodded slightly.
“Sir, I’m afraid I’m out of the loop. Agent Scully said you wanted to see us, but …” Mulder said in confusion, and Skinner sighed.
“Agent Mulder, I’m referring to some information that has reached my ears regarding this past weekend at the team building workshop. More to the point, after said workshop … in the ... hotel lounge area.”
Scully watched Mulder as Skinner spoke and saw his face change, his eyes unable to meet hers save for the quick flick her way. He lowered his head as he leaned forward and locked his fingers together.
“Sir, I’m still confused. As I told you earlier, I don’t remember much about that night. I … I had a couple of glasses of wine and …” she said, looking at Mulder before looking back at Skinner. “I didn’t … I know I wouldn’t get up on stage and sing. Much less play a tambourine …”
“Scully …” Mulder said in a whisper, his head shaking imperceptibly. She kept staring at him, and he finally glanced her way, nodding his head.
“What?” she asked, horrified.
“Sir, could we have-”
“Why don’t I-” Skinner said over Mulder, tilting his head towards the door as he made his exit, leaving the two of them alone.
Scully watched him leave and then turned back to Mulder, her eyebrows raised. “What the hell, Mulder?” she said quietly.
“Scully, it wasn’t just a couple of glasses of wine,” he sighed and stared at her.
“Maybe a mixed drink too, but, I wasn’t out of control. And, Jesus, if I was having fun whose business is it here? It was after the stupid workshop, on my own time,” she said, her anger rising. “I don’t need to be lectured like a child and be forced to apologize for my actions. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this,” she said, starting to stand only to be stopped by Mulder.
“I don’t believe that is why we're here today, Scully,” he quietly said as he held tight to her arm. “Half the people at the workshop were drinking and acting the fool, much worse than you.” She glared at him and angrily shrugged his hand off her arm. “I’m not implying you were acting like a fool, just stating how others were behaving,” he quickly added, smiling slightly.
“If that’s the case, then why the hell am I being singled out? Because I’m a woman? A woman who generally doesn’t “act a fool” as you say, and so I have to be made an example of for the men in the office? You know, this is the kind of bullshit that stops women from pursuing careers in these fields. This boys club mentality that exists and women never have a chance-”
“It’s because I punched Tom Colton for the things he said about you,” came Mulder’s raised voice, immediately silencing her. She stared at him in utter disbelief and he nodded his head.
“What?” she whispered. “Tom? I have no recollection of him being there. Not in any capacity.” She shook her head, and he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.
“He wasn’t there in connection to the weekend, he was just … there. I saw him when I was at the bar waiting for our drinks, which were definitely not wine,” he sighed, looking down at his hands before looking at her. “Scully, you were standing on the stage and singing or attempting to, and someone did hand you a tambourine.” He stared at her, and she shook her head, to which he nodded, a small smile on his face.
“Mulder … I have no memory of that, not even a little …” she stopped as she suddenly did have a recollection of standing and shaking a tambourine, people singing and talking loudly, the room unbearably hot. “Oh my God, Mulder.” The door opened as she felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed beyond belief.
“Sir, we’ve come to an understanding and I want to apologize for what I did, and I will speak to Agent Colton and apologize to him as well as soon as we leave your office,” Mulder said, standing up as Skinner entered the room.
“Agent Colton?” Skinner asked, his face puzzled.
“Yes, Sir. Is this not about me punching Agent Colton in the face?”
“You did what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner shouted, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Uhhhh,” Mulder stammered and looked down at Scully for help, but she was still seated and had her hand partially covering her face.
“Agent Mulder, this meeting was about … things that were witnessed and heard outside of Agent Scully’s hotel room. And downstairs by the elevators beforehand,” Skinner said pointedly.
“The ... elevators? Oh ...” Mulder said and sat back down with a sigh, as Scully looked at him, confusion on her face.
Skinner sighed, sitting down behind his desk, and Scully looked between them, waiting for one of them to speak. “Mulder, why did you punch Agent Colton? Do I need to make a call?” Skinner finally asked quietly.
“I … uh, I don’t think so, if he hasn’t said anything?” Mulder said, not sounding entirely certain.
“What would make you punch him, Mulder?” Scully asked him and he looked at her, his eyes telling her she did not need to hear it. “Mulder?” He sighed and shook his head, but she continued staring at him, forcing him to speak.
“He made comments about you that were not becoming of one agent about another. I made myself known and told him to watch his words. He and his buddies seemed to think that was funny, and then he said something else … so I punched him. He deserved it, and I don’t regret it,” Mulder said to her with a glance at Skinner who sighed and shook his head.
“What did he say, Mulder?” she whispered.
“Scully,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I need to know.”
“You don’t,” he told her gently. “That guy is an asshole and that punch was a long time coming. I don’t regret it one bit, other than it took so long.” He smiled, and she stared at him, searching his face. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, her head down.
Skinner cleared his throat and she looked up. “That uh, it doesn’t cover why I called you both here as at least one of those things is not a problem.”
“Neither of them is a problem if you know Agent Colton,” Mulder murmured, and Scully shook her head.
Skinner sighed again and looked down at the desk. “There were a few agents who expressed concern over … actions they saw between the two of you.” He looked up, and Scully frowned at him, still not knowing what he meant. He looked at Mulder who nodded and shook his head, which caused Skinner to sigh once more. “Look, I know that … male/female partnerships are subject to scrutiny more so than traditional same sex partnerships, I do. Just … you two seem to attract more attention, and when I hear things from others …” he sighed again, and Scully stood abruptly to her feet, finally realizing what they were talking about.
She looked at each of them, unable to speak, her anger and embarrassment too high. Turning around she walked out of the office, past Arlene and to the stairwell, not having any patience or desire to wait for the elevator to take her to the basement office.
Two flights down though, she stopped and sat on the steps, her head in her hands. The night was coming back to her now, tumbling through her brain, almost begging to be remembered.
The heat of the room and the feel of the tambourine in her hands, made her feel happy and giggly, definitely past tipsy but not completely drunk. A drink was handed to her, and she saw Mulder’s smile as he shook his head and stepped back into the crowd.
She drank it down quickly, the alcohol burning her throat and then her stomach, but making her feel braver and bolder. The song ended and the crowd cheered. She laughed and handed the tambourine to some woman next to her, her eyes searching for Mulder as she did.
Stumbling down the small stage, she felt a hand on her elbow and looked to see Mulder beside her, his smile huge. “You’re just full of surprises, Scully,” he said close to her ear as a new song started and everyone cheered again.
As they came through the crowd of people, she turned to look at him, losing her footing resulting in his arms catching her before she fell. The closeness of him made her dizzy, more so than any alcohol. He smelled so good and she told him so, his eyes widening in response. She laughed and pulled on his tie, bringing him closer to her, and allowing her to smell him closer.
“Scully,” he breathed, his voice low and close to her ear.
“Mulder. God, you make me …” she said, her words drowned out as the crowd erupted again.
Her eyes flew open as she remembered what she said and the words burned like hot lava inside her, destroying everything in its path. How was she supposed to be around him now that she remembered what she said? She needed to leave and never come back, the words too embarrassing to live with, much less think of every day with his eyes watching her.
“Oh my God,” she said, her voice echoing in the empty stairwell, as she suddenly remembered it was more than simply the words she said to him. There had been … touching.
A lot of touching.
She stood up and continued hurriedly down the stairs, determined to grab her things and get out of the office before Mulder saw her. Pushing the door open she looked left and right, walking past shelves of boxes, trying not to be seen.
Unlocking their office door, she put her keys in her pocket and quickly went to grab her bag and her phone. Items secured, she reached for the doorknob as the door opened and there stood Mulder. He stared at her in surprise and then frowned when he saw her bag in her hand.
“Are you leaving?” he asked, closing the door behind him. She could not look at him, the words she said to him that night burning in her mind, teasing her tongue to tell him again.
“Mulder. God, you make me … so wet.”
“I … uh yeah … I forgot I have … um ...” she stammered and tried to step past him, but his hand on her wrist stopped her, forcing her eyes to meet his. Hazel and full of worry and concern, they were the same as that night …
The feel of his hands around her waist, his gasp of surprise at her words, his breath smelling of alcohol, made her knees weak as she stumbled into him. He tightened his grip before pulling back slightly to look at her. His eyes were open, and she felt she could see into his very soul if she looked long enough.
She wrapped his tie around her hand and tugged, bringing his mouth close to hers. Their breath intermingled as his fingers dug into her waist. Someone bumped her from behind, and she fell into his chest. His hard, muscular chest.
But that was not all that was hard.
He groaned and he pulled her closer, making her gasp. “Scully,” he breathed in her ear, and she shuddered against him. “I think … think we should head upstairs.” She nodded against his chest, and he pulled back to look at her. His eyes moved all over her face, and she smiled.
He turned her and led her out, walking behind her. Her pulse was racing. Every place he touched her felt like fire. One she never wanted to extinguish.
At the bank of elevators, he pushed the UP button and as he turned around, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket. She pulled hard until his mouth was on hers, and she kissed him. His hands went to her waist and then he was pulling her into the elevator, his mouth fuzed to hers. He pulled back, breathing hard, shaking his head.
“Mulder,” she moaned, reaching for his tie, but he stopped her, holding her hands between their bodies. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He kept a hold on her hand and walked her down the hall.
At her door, she pulled him in for another kiss, falling against the door as he pushed into her, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her hands went to his hair, and she dug her nails into his neck, making him audibly groan.
He pulled back again, resting his forehead against hers. “Scully,” he whispered and she scraped her fingers along his neck, breathing hard. “Where is your room key?”
“Pocket, I think,” she said, her words feeling and sounding slurry even to her own ears. Mulder nodded and felt in her suit jacket pockets before he found it and opened her door.
She stumbled back, taking her shoes off as she walked inside the room, then trying to unbutton her jacket but her fingers did not cooperate. Forgetting about it, she stumbled to the bed and sat down. The room began to spin and she shook her head, before she fell back and remembered no more.
“I need to go, Mulder,” she said, barely above a whisper, and suppressing a sob. “Please … let me go.”
“You remember,” he said, a statement, not a question, and she nodded, her eyes downcast, embarrassment washing over her. “What do you remember?” Her head snapped up, and she found his eyes soft and understanding, not teasing and not judging.
“I remember …” she began, and he took the bag from her hand, setting it on the small desk, his eyes never leaving hers. “Uhhh …”
“Do you remember my hands being on your waist?” he asked as he put them there once again. “Do you remember how close you were to me? How it felt as though our very breath was mating?” She closed her eyes and leaned into him, whimpering quietly as she did. “Do you remember how my heart was racing? How my breath felt frozen in my chest because of your words, and the thoughts they created in my head?” He pulled her toward him, and she reached for his tie, realizing this was going to end way better than she thought it would when she had considered bolting out the door.
“Do … do you remember how your tie felt like silk when I touched it? How I wanted to run it over other parts of my body to see if it was as soft there, as it was in between my fingers?” she whispered, tugging his tie and making him moan her name. “Do you remember how the heat of the room made me want to strip all my clothes off, but I would have still been too hot, your touch making me ache? Do you remember that, Mulder?” She pulled back to look at him, her eyes seeking that he felt the same way she did, one hundred percent.
“I remember all of that, Scully,” he whispered. “I remember that and so much more.”
“Show me, Mulder,” she said, her fingers under his tie and seeking out the buttons on his shirt, pushing the first one she found through the buttonhole. One finger slid inside and scratched at the heated skin she found there. “Show me everything you remember.”
He stared at her for seconds that felt like forever, before he leaned in and kissed her, his lips just as soft as she remembered. His fingers gripped her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck, his hair and skin as soft and warm as she remembered. He groaned in his throat as his tongue once again explored her mouth, as amazing and delicious as she remembered.
And once again, when she whispered in his ear the effect he had on her, his eyes widened, and he gasped, just as she remembered.
Yes, the basement office in the J. Edgar Hoover building, the one that was home to Fox Mulder and Dana Scully (although her name plate had been ordered, received, and lay in the desk drawer, the execution of it being hung up by either of them had failed) was known for being where odd things resided and strange theories were discussed. On that Tuesday morning, however, there was nothing odd about what was happening up against the wall, causing the doorknob to rattle, and moans to escalate to louder and louder decibels.
Times change, but places where memories have been made, especially the really good ones, the very walls themselves have a tendency to remember. In particular, the walls of a shared basement office, that was avoided by so many and thus created a rather private space for a tryst that had been waiting patiently for seven long years.
hi! this blog is awesome, thank you so much for it. i’m looking for a dean one shot where the reader plays a song from the 90’s while she’s drunk and dances around to it in front of the boys. the fic is called Touch It, but i cant seem to find it anywhere. thank you so much!❤️
I believe it’s “Touch it” by Evansrogerskitten
Dean x Reader An old song inspires a bold surprise for Dean. Written for @spnkinkbingo, Square filled: Teasing and for @spnfluffbingo2019 S
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