#msrlibrary

[msrlibrary]

string theory by @foxmulders

or seven times dana scully wore fox mulder’s clothes. 

on monday she hangs his jacket on the coat rack. if he notices, he doesn’t say anything. he brushes his fingers against her elbow. she skirts under his arm to reach a file. they are confined to tight revolving orbits and her collar itches with the phantom weight of his wool coat. it is syndonic motion; they destruct and collide.

this is the construction of solar systems and of stars.

[msrlibrary]

snakebitten by @onpaperfirst

“We would rather be ruined than changed.” – WH Auden

Scully sometimes paid lip service to the idea of wanting what she called “a real life,” but come on. Her mom’s friend’s daughter had invited her to join a book club. She said she’d go, then never did, because there was always something more pressing than some book about a Civil War widow finding love again. There was always a mangled body, an autopsy bay. There was always Mulder.

[msrlibrary]

the airport by jess m

We make it to Chili's with no further interruptions.

Her breath smells warm and mediciny, after the alcohol. "When we get home,"she murmurs, "I'm going to fuck you until you really can't tell where I start and you stop."

Well, it wasn't exactly what I'd expected, but from the small party going on in my boxers, I'd say it worked for me.

"Oh god," I groan.

"Would you like that?" she asks with her tongue in my ear (in my ear! Jesus!), and the growl returns with a vengeance, like Godzilla, wreaking havoc in my alcohol-addled mind.

"Yes," I tell her with as much sincere desire as a fifteen year-old kid selling bibles door to door. "I sure as hell would."

"Then finish your fajitas, Mulder. You're going to need your stamina."

[msrlibrary]

belphegor’s prime by prufrock’s love

When someone wrote Time Travel for Dummies, the guidebook should include a chapter titled “Love as a Form of Self-flagellation.” Or “She’s Your Touchstone, You’re a Stranger.”

He heard a catch in her voice when she said, “Agent Mulder-”

“I’m gonna go. I’m not okay, Scully, and I don’t need to be here. I told myself I wouldn’t-” He stepped away from the counter. “The Robert Modell act, upsetting you, this verbal cat-and-mouse… That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

He wanted her assurance she didn’t blame him for the death of more than a billion people. That everything he’d done to ensure humanity’s survival, his family’s survival, had been worthwhile. He wanted to be the man she believed he was. Instead of telling her those things, he inhaled, stepped forward and said, “I think, since about next Thursday, I’ve only ever wanted you.”

[msrlibrary]

triangulation by leyenn 

He finally tracks them down in Oxford in mid-October.

The third hand snags hers at the wrist; the dark head rises, and his first new sighting of Fox Mulder in three years is one in which Scully’s slender, dexterous fingers are sliding up to the second knuckle into the man’s mouth.

He clears his throat - perhaps too loudly, since he is in fact a guest, but he has no great amount of control over it right at that particular moment, with that particular image front and center in his vision.

Both heads swivel to regard him instantly. There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft wet sound of Scully’s fingers sliding out of Mulder’s mouth. Mulder presses a kiss against her fingertips and then lets her hand drop, but he doesn’t release her. They seem to turn like one being, Mulder with his arm around her, Scully leaning back against him. Her head is tipped up and back, her hair like tendrils of light caught on his grey t-shirt.

“Skinman.” Mulder flashes a shit-eating grin. “I heard,” he squeezes Scully against him, and she smiles, “that we had a visitor. How long’d it take you to track us down?”

[msrlibrary]

cellphone by marasmus

A conversation. A game. All is not what it seems.

"So. Where are you, Mulder?" 

 Ah. Back to business as usual. He slides one arm behind his head, lies back, stretching like a cat in the syrupy sunshine, and closes his eyes. "I am in heaven, Scully," he purrs. "Or a close approximation of it, anyway." 

"Which is where exactly?" she asks dryly. 

"Let me describe it to you. It's a hotel room, but it's not like any room we're used to..."

[msrlibrary]

all of this (a round) us by secondsflat

A broken finger, a bottle of whiskey, and a conversation. Scully sets a bone.

"Whiskey, Mulder?"

He shrugs.  "It was a birthday gift from my mom a couple years ago.”

“I didn’t think you were much of a drinker.”

“I’m not.” To his credit, his look is only a little bit like velvet brushed against the grain.  That’s the thing about Fox Mulder, though: he saves self-pity for special occasions, doesn’t waste it on old hurts.  “Knew it’d come in handy someday.”

[msrlibrary]

finding rokovoko by prufrock’s love

A case in the Florida Everglades takes Mulder and Scully on a terrifying journey nowhere. The air conditioning and the laws of physics won’t work. She wants dinner and not to die. He dreams of a boy on the beach and not being Captain Ahab. A love story of absolute evil and existential doubt and truth that isn’t found on the free map from the Visitor Center.

“Do you want me to get out and help?” he asked. She had no place to turn around, and accidentally backing off the road risked backing into a swamp.

“While I’m aware I’m being irrational, I’d really prefer you remain in the vehicle, Mulder.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. I love you, too.”