She lets herself in with her keys and pads into the bedroom. Yep, he’s still in the same position he was when she left two hours ago.
Without a second thought, Scully quickly undresses and pulls back his comforter.
Mulder stirs, but his eyes remain shut. She wedges herself into his arm again.
Two hours ago, she had to pry his arms off her and place the comforter into his arms so he could keep sleeping. It feels silly that a piece of fabric can take her place like that.
Mulder’s hand moves slightly—he’s awake, she suspects, so she keeps still, hoping he will sleep a little longer.
Guess there is a difference between her and the comforter, and even a Mulder in slumber can tell.
“You’re back,” he says softly in the present, voice heavy with sleep. “I missed you.”
“Yes. Go back to sleep.” She moves to close his eyes with her hand. He puckers up his lips, and she kisses him sweetly.
“You know you could have stayed this way for the whole day. I don’t mind.” One of his hands glides down her bare torso. “You really didn’t have to drive home so late at night.”
“I can’t spend a whole day wearing your clothes, Mulder.”
“Liar.”
He moves to kiss her again, and she laughs.
“I could’ve driven you in the morning.” He states, “Or we could move the party to your room.”
“I wanted you to sleep.” She squishes his cheeks, and now it looks pudgy. “It just feels different, your place and mine.”
Scully does not know that this man has been hoping and dreaming that one day they’ll just have one place, not his nor hers, but theirs. She has no idea that it was all he could think about during his solo trip to England.
“I want...” He starts and chuckles lightly, “You know what I want, Scully. You know every single want I have.”
She turns so that her nose is pressed into his chest and holds onto him.
“I missed you.” He breathes.
“Yeah, you’ve said that.”
“No, I missed you all the time when you were not with me. And England was so boring.” He scoffs.
“What’d you do? Where’d you go?”
“I saw a friend.” He smiles, eyes still smoky and so green.
“A friend?” She echoes.
“Yes, and he says I must bring you along next time.” Mulder’s smile grows bigger. “An old friend. Old friend. A time-sensitive friend.”
“Oh,” she says silently, and feels bad for her jealousy two seconds ago.
“I didn’t have a lot of time to do much while I was over there,” he shifts his body so she’s underneath him, “but I did a lot of missing you.”
“And...” Suddenly, she feels mischievous. “What cha gonna do about it?”
“Take today off. Sleep in, make love, breakfast in bed. I can show you why it didn’t make any sense for you to run home at 2AM for clean clothes. You would’ve been fine.”
Scully chuckles at his seriousness. She didn’t go into the office at all yesterday, and Mulder’s UK trip was a complete bust. They’re downright terrible when they’re apart.
“What?” He asks, his eyes too pure to look leery. He looks quite awake now. Well, so much for rushing home to shower, get new clothes on, and sneak back into his bed in order to wake up in his arms.
“I just thought of that nudist case we had a few years ago. You know, the one where people claimed their stuff was taken by fairies and whatnots, demanding their hands in marriage?”
Mulder starts laughing, too. He says while shaking his head, “Yes, and remember when you located that story in Oriental Legends, we got shushed by that 7-year-old at the county library?”
She nods, loving that they have so, so many shared memories. This is what it is, she thinks. They’re so close to one another that even when they have spent two days apart, they can bring the other person into another timeline where their presences once were. Mulder finally knows about her past, those youthful and confused and regretful days.
She feels like he was with her in that temple, standing in front of the gigantic Buddha in the blue light. It was the Mulder in her that made her see and made her believe. When she had that vision, she knew, in time, he would know and have experienced her vision too.
“I went home so I could wake up in your arms.” She says softly. “And we can sleep in on a bloody Tuesday, stay in bed and make love and eat breakfast—it’s your bed, and I’m gonna leave crumbs all over it.”
“Bloody Tuesday!” He swears after her and holds her to him. “Well, let’s get on it. You owe me two hours today, Scully.”
She closes her eyes and realizes that she’s sleepier than she thought. Sleep will take over soon, so she hugs Mulder tighter with her arm and leg, not caring how clingy it looks.
She recalls, hours earlier, when she told him that she needed to make a quick trip home before dawn, his pouty eyes and mouth, and the can’t you stay?
She dreams of a little boy holding on to her, saying those exact words to her, asking her to stay with a precious pout. Mulder as a wee little one.
Prompt 5 from the list pretty please!! We know Scully is just as obsessed with Mulder’s hair as we all are😍 would love to see how you’d write it!x
Well Anon, it took me a bit longer than I had hoped as this is just too fluffy to not write, but I hope you enjoy this story. I tweaked it just a bit, but I think it’s better this way. 😉
Kaleidoscope
Scully, although she may be hesitant to admit it, has a quite a predilection for Mulder's hair.
Missy was the one who taught her how to check out and assess a man’s ass, long before she actually knew what she truly was looking at or why. Intrigued and feeling grown up as they used the word ass, a swear they had been forbidden to say, Scully simply nodded in agreement at Missy’s explanation.
“See, Dana. Look how his ass fits so perfect in those jeans. That’s a nice ass. Unlike that guy over there…” Missy said in her all knowing tone, as she pointed and Scully looked to her left.
“Principal Monroe?!” she asked in horror and Missy burst out laughing. “Melissa Scully! I cannot believe you made me even look at that general area!” Missy laughed again as Scully shivered, and Principal Monroe turned their way and smiled. Scully pulled at Missy’s arm, leading her away as she snorted and giggled, Scully’s face aflame with embarrassment.
From that moment on, however, Scully’s eyes would flick down to a man’s ass as he walked away, grinning on the inside even as she shook her head, remembering Missy’s prank on her. Not to say that a cute ass was the only thing she noticed or cared about, but it did not hurt if a guy had one. Relationships big and small, she had regarded men based on their character, personality, and… yes, the cuteness of their ass.
In Oregon, on the first case with Mulder, she would have to admit to being a liar if she said she had not checked him out. He was brilliant and driven, yes, but he was also cute, just as she had later told Ellen.
What she did not tell Ellen however, was how she had noticed his ass, even as she knew she should not be doing so. He was her partner, her new partner, and she knew she should not be staring at him in that way. But then, she could imagine the look Missy would have given her as she stared at his ass, nodding with approval as he walked past, while Scully made eyes at her to stop and Missy laughed quietly.
All of her life, she had believed she held the cuteness of someone’s ass on a rather high scale. That was her belief, until the very first time she ran her fingers through Mulder’s hair.
Sick on a flight home, very early in their partnership, she had touched his forehead, sure he had a fever. He had been complaining of aches and his usual exuberance had diminished.
As she had moved her hand, trying to get a better idea if it was truly a fever, he had moaned and she had been unable to stop herself. Running her fingers into his hair, his eyes had closed as he leaned into her touch, and it felt as though a kaleidoscope of butterflies had suddenly been released in her stomach.
Pulling her hand away quickly, her heart racing as her fingertips remembered the softness of his hair and the warmth of his skin, he had opened his eyes.
“Is it a fever?” he had asked tiredly, his eyes closing again.
“No. Not a fever. I think you’re coming down with something though. Try and get some sleep. That will help.” She had swallowed, hoping her cheeks had not looked as flushed as they felt. He had nodded, leaning his head back with a sigh and another moan.
He was asleep within minutes and she stared at him as his mouth dropped open. Her fingers had itched to touch him, but she kept her hands to herself, as hard as it truly was. Watching him sleep, she had licked her lips and let out a sigh.
Don’t you dare, Dana, she had thought to herself. Not again. Not like Jack. Or…
But then Mulder had groaned, different than the other moans, and shifted in his sleep. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own and she had raised it to his head and ran her fingers through his hair, not caring that she should not be doing it.
His hair was so soft and fluffy. She had smiled as she scratched softly at his scalp and he moaned quietly, leaning toward her, his head against the seat. He was a bit warm, but then so was she, the plane feeling overheated.
Or maybe it was the man beside her, whose hair seemed to pull at her like a magnet.
“Would you like something to drink?” A flight attendant had asked and Scully pulled her hand away from Mulder’s head, her cheeks once again burning.
“Uh… no. I’m okay,” she had said hurriedly, placing her hands in her lap, and the flight attendant walked away with a smile.
“Scully,” Mulder had sighed in his sleep with a soft moan, and she had smiled as she looked at him, resisting the urge to touch him again.
She had closed the window shade and closed her eyes, hoping both of them could get some much needed sleep.
_____________
After that first contact, she had used her medical degree as an excuse to touch him more than another partner may have. But… god knows he had landed himself into enough scrapes to justify her fingers on his flesh and especially in his hair, checking for an injury; real or imagined.
Even in those moments when the warmth of his skin was under her fingers, and was then later something she thought of alone at night, it did not compare to how they felt running through his hair.
She loved his hair.
The scent, the softness, styled or especially sticking up in the mornings as he yawned over coffee in some motel room, in some tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, as they reviewed their case. Those mornings, it was hard to resist reaching over and trailing her fingers through his bed head. The desire to smooth down his wayward hair as his eyes raised to hers, stirring the always present butterflies inside of her.
God…
Over the years, the touch became less professional and more personal. She felt it and she knew he did too. His eyes held hers when she would touch his face, her fingers inevitably pushing into his hair, lingering too long, but knowing it was safe and did not exactly cross the line they had created between them.
And then… one night, that simple touch was no longer enough.
Sitting on Mulder’s leather couch, a bit sleepy from the tea they had drunk and the stress associated with the shock of seeing the man she had thought she would spend the rest of her life with, she had leaned toward him as he sat on his coffee table in front of her.
“Mulder,” she had whispered, reaching up to stroke his face with both hands, her thumbs running softly across his lips. He had inhaled and then exhaled her name, almost like a warning.
Or a question.
And she had answered it.
The Navajo blanket bunched between them as she had kissed him, pressing her lips softly to his, her fingers becoming lost in his hair. His arms went around her waist and he had pulled her to him and into his lap, their lips never breaking contact.
She thought she had loved his hair before, but nothing compared to the feel of it between her fingers as his kiss intoxicated her, his touch aroused, and his body brought her to the height of pleasure.
More than once.
The butterflies did not rest that night, but flew around wildly inside of her until she had felt as though she herself could take flight, her body lighter than air.
____________________
The rain fell lazily against the motel room window, as though still unsure it wanted to be falling at all. Thunder rumbled, but it was sporadic and far off; no doubt the storm would blow away before it even truly began.
Cool air filled the small room, the rattle of the air conditioner a comforting and most welcome sound. The dark gray of the late afternoon was deceiving, for although it was gloomy and appeared cool, it had been hot and extremely muggy.
The preset agreed upon temperature was reached, and the rattling of the air conditioner stopped, allowing the weak sound of the rain to become a bit louder.
Scully smiled with a sigh as she slid her legs against the familiar scratchy motel sheets, some things never changing. How many beds had they slept in with cheap sheets, the scent of bleach and detergent surrounding them?
Mulder was asleep, his head at her naked breast, his chest rising and falling against her as he breathed in steadily. She ran her fingers lightly up his back, not wanting to wake him, but needing to touch him, despite the closeness of their bodies.
Her fingers moved up into his hair which had grown longer in the past few months. They kept to themselves as much as possible, and haircuts were luxuries they avoided, opting to do it themselves if need be.
She had given him only one, where he had given her a couple. He had not complained about the cut, although she knew he should have, as it was not her best work, and yet he had not asked her for another. It was now longer than she had ever seen in all of the years she had known him and she actually really liked it longer. It made him seem different, almost younger and happier, despite the worrisome life they were currently living.
Taking a deep breath, her nose at the crown of his head, she breathed in his scent, the one that lay beneath the smell of the citrusy motel shampoo they had used in their shared shower a couple of hours ago.
Closing her eyes, she sighed and rubbed his head, pulling lightly at his hair, the strands slipping like silk through her fingers. Smiling again, she exhaled and he stirred, moaning as he pulled her closer and breathed her name. Opening her eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair, and down his back.
“Hmm… what time is it?” he groaned, his breath warm on her flesh, goosebumps rising and her nipples hardening. He kissed the top of her breast and she moaned, her nails pressing into his skin.
“Does it really matter?” she whispered and he chuckled.
“I suppose not. But we should probably think about getting some food at some point.” He breathed softly and he kissed her breast again.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, her fingers back in his hair, as the rain began to fall slightly harder. “Besides, it’s raining out.”
“While you do taste sweet, Scully, I’m pretty sure you’re not made out of sugar. A little rain won’t cause you to melt. It never has before.”
“Hmm,” she hummed, letting him know she was not so sure about his statement and he chuckled again. Smiling, she played with his hair as the air conditioner rattled back on, cool air once more filling the room.
“Then a pizza it is I suppose,” he said over the hum of the motor. “But, you’ll need to put some clothes on before he gets here.”
“Nonsense. It might just get us a discount.”
“A discount?” he asked incredulously, raising up to look at her. She smiled as he scoffed, looking down at her breasts, and shaking his head. “We’d get the pizza for free. Forget some measly discount.” She laughed and he shook his head again. “A discount, Scully… come on.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, holding onto the ends of it as she stared into his eyes. “Have I mentioned how much I like your hair longer?”
“Hmm… not vocally, but I’ve noticed the extra touches and the way you run your fingers through it more. Why do you think I don’t want you to cut it?”
“Because I did such a horrible job last time?”
“Not at all. You did a great job.” She rolled her eyes and he smiled. “I’m serious. I liked it. Would have liked it even if I had ended up bald.” He shrugged and she shook her head.
“I would never go that far, but…” She smiled and sighed happily. “I really like it like this.” As she pushed his hair back, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. “We could order that pizza in a little while, right?” He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows at her, a smile playing at his lips.
“Why? Did you have something you were thinking of doing in the meantime?”
She smiled, running her fingers through his hair, one eyebrow lifting up as his smile slowly grew wider.
“Oh.. I had something in mind all right. Something that requires nudity,” she said.
“Can’t possibly require more nudity than I can see right now.” He laughed quietly as she placed a hand on the back of his neck.
“Well...” she said with a smile, stroking his face gently. “I suggest you take full advantage of said nudity before I’m forced to cover up in order to pay for our dinner.”
He grinned with a nod as he moved over her and her arms looped around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair. His lips pressed gently to her own, the rain continuing to fall lazily, as the quiet but constant kaleidoscope of butterflies began to flutter to life.
You've become accustomed to the sensation of adrenaline rush over the years, of a level of panic that seizes your chest. But nothing prepares you for this — for the sick way your stomach drops, the sensation that you may actually vomit out your own heart as it leaps into your throat.
Up until now, you'd been having an uncharacteristically pleasant morning. You'd awoken to an empty bed, but the sheets were in disarray and your boxers were on the floor and the taste of your partner still lingering on your lips was enough to overshadow your morning breath. She was gone— without a trace, without so much as a note. Yet, you were oddly at peace. No matter how hard she tried to run, you know that there's no escaping last night. Seven years of longing and tension come to a head. It was inevitable. As was a repeat performance.
You'd stopped for one of those ridiculous soy lattes (no sugar), even picked her up one of those giant blueberry muffins with the sugar drizzled on top that she'd pretend not to care about for all of twenty minutes before nonchalantly reaching for it. All choices had lead her to you. She'd all but said it herself. You wanted to make sure she didn't regret it for a second.
You hadn't realized you'd been holding your breath until you hear her voice on the other side of the basement door. She wasn't hiding, wasn't transferring to Utah. But then a male voice joins and she's giggling and you're fairly certain you're about three seconds from choking on your own heart.
You recognize him the moment you open the door. Craig, from forensic accounting. The world's most boring person with the world's most boring job. Any other day, you might have shrugged it off. You'd inject yourself into the conversation, make him feel awkward and out of place, until it was just business as usual. Scully would scoff, roll her eyes, but that pleased little grin would remain.
Except now, you're struck by the vision of a heavily pregnant Scully. Two-point-five kids, golden retriever— the works. This was the kind of man a woman settles down with. You've robbed her of that luxury; of every luxury.
Your appearance hasn't gone unnoticed, two sets of eyes gazing at you questioningly. You offer a tight smile and a casual greeting, allowing your strong presence to make this intruder uncomfortable. It works, and within minutes, Criag is backing out of the office.
"Just give it some thought, Dana," he begs, in lieu of goodbye.
Dana. You can't help but scoff, even as she nods politely. Her eyes bore into the back of your skull as you busy yourself in the filing cabinet. You can't quite bring yourself to meet her gaze, the image of her body writhing in ecstasy still so fresh in your memory.
"What was that about?"
Your noncommittal hum is shrouded in false innocence, and you can feel her eyes rolling without so much as glancing at her.
"Just didn't know you and Craig were so close," you mutter, shuffling through folders. S. Sasquatch. S. Scully, Dana. You try not to consider just how thick that one is— the fact that it wouldn't exist at all were she not saddled with you in the first place.
"Close?" She laughs dryly, studies you. "Jesus, Mulder. Are you—?" You finally meet her gaze, see the amusement tugging at her lips. "Why are you so jealous?"
Refusal is your first instinct, but that cleverly arched eyebrow stops you right in your tracks. As much as she always loves to call you out on your bullshit, she's never straight out acknowledged your jealousy. But she looks almost smug right now, and dammit if you don't want to kiss her with everything in you.
"You're mine," you find yourself growling out. "I don't share."
Her eyes flash with something dark and you've just begun to wonder which of your vital organs she'll be stabbing her stiletto into, when you recognize the expression on her face. It's the same look she wore not ten hours prior, crawling into your bed, as bold and decisive as you've ever seen her.
She's stalking closer and suddenly your tie is between her fingers and your mouth is dry, and the same coconut scented hair you'd cried your release into last night permeates your senses. Her eyes never leave your chest, which rises and falls rapidly with each breath. Here you thought that this tension would've disappeared after finally giving into your carnal urges. But she's so coy and her cheeks are rosy and she smells so damn good, and it feels like there's another decade of sexual tension between the two of you at once.
"Last night," she begins, and you wouldnt have thought it was possible, but her cheeks flush even darker. "Did I give you any indication that I was interested in being shared?"
Her eyes are several shades darker when they meet your own—a deep cobalt that you immediately lose yourself in. You shake your head dumbly in response. There's a soft pat to your chest, and then she's gone, sitting at the desk and sifting through piles of neglected paperwork.
She's seamlessly slipped back into work mode, scolding you over lost expense reports and illegible case notes. But when your eyes meet, there's a playful glimmer lying in wait—an unspoken promise of tonight.
We know that All Things is a hit or miss episode for the fandom. Love it or hate it. We have seen mixed reviews all over tumblr, twitter, rando blogs on the internet, etc. One thing that we personally love about the episode is that last little bit, the quick conversation between Mulder and Scully.
Scully: What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.
Mulder: Mmm. And all the choices would then lead to this very moment. One wrong turn, and we wouldn't be sitting here together. Well, that says a lot. That says a lot, a lot, a lot.
Freaking swooooon, amirite? Well, today’s fic is kind of like the premise of that bit of dialogue, but on steroids. Set post ‘All Things’, Mulder and Scully who are still trying to figure out where they stand, are sent on a case, and as usual, things are not what they seem. This is what CC needed to give us after All Things.
Title: Collapse
Author: Elanor G
Rating: Strong R
Length: 130K / 65,000+ Word Count
Synopsis: Mulder and Scully investigate a group suicide with cult overtones - but things may not be what they seem. As they race to prevent more deaths, Scully searches for the truth behind her vision in the Buddhist temple, and Mulder confront some of his own inner demons.
Spoilers: Up through season 7ish
Possible Triggers: violence and disturbing subject matter
Summary: Conclusion to Long Stretch of Love. Check out Lady Antebellum’s “Long Strech of Love” that inspired this. Parts I and II here. P.S. Smut ahead. So I guess NSFW. Or my attempt.
Disclaimer: I own none of it, merely borrowing.
Author’s Note: I can’t believed I finished this. It took @leiascully and @xfficchallenges of ‘Fics You Would Never Write’ to finish this. I don’t write smut. I never have. Until now. First attempt.
Scully put her vacuum cleaner away in her hall closet and surveyed her apartment. In order to keep her mind at bay and chase away her insecurities, she began to clean, and it wasn't just simple tidying. It was an all out top to bottom exercise all the baggage out cleaning. Her apartment was spotless. She smiled, satisfied with the day's efforts. Then her land line was ringing.
Thinking it was anyone but Mulder, she answered, “Hello?”
“Scully, it's me. Just making sure you haven't fled the country,” he said.
“As tempting as it sounds,” she sighed, “no, I haven't gone anywhere.” She relaxed at the sound of his voice.
“Good.” She could hear his smile. “Good. I'll be by in an hour. I just wanted to give you a heads up so I won't catch you...unguarded.”
“So, you're giving me a chance to prepare my defenses?” she teased. “Before the siege?”
“Before the siege? Really, Scully? I was thinking along the lines of showering,” he replied. He paused. “Even though it isn't like I haven't seen anything before. But I will bring my battering ram and siege towers just in case.”
He hung up and Scully leaned against the nearest counter as she set the phone down. She felt that familiar anxiety welling in her chest again and also the strange ache for what they could be as well. She would not let herself admit to it but this past year had filled her with so much hope; the past night even made her ache even worse.
She was afraid.
It was easier to admit it to herself than aloud. At least by admitting it to herself, she was not embarrassing herself too much, just stating the truth.
She thought back to her past relationships; Daniel, Jack, Ethan and then fleetingly to the Jerse and even Padgett (even thought the past two tried to kill her). None of them paled in comparison to Mulder. There was always something about him. What she could he offer that they could not? The past seven years. The past seven years were indescribable through the good, bad, and the ugly. But she had him, and that she would never change.
She thought back to how this began, the extension of their physical relationship. Scully never thought much of the small things in the beginning like touching her on the small of her back or the barely audible conversations that caused them both to lean inwards towards one another. But then, after they took the next step with their physical relationship, those small physical gestures took on a whole new world of meaning. Touching the small of her back at first was annoying, then comforting, and then evolved to something she grew used to like a cup of morning coffee or something like that. It had become an integral part of her every day.
Why did she want to run away all the time?
Her phone was ringing again. She groaned inwardly and answered it, clipped. “Hello?”
“Scully, it's me.”
“Mulder,” she greeted softly, inwardly relaxing, realizing who it was. “Didn't you just call?”
Mulder shifted on the other end, detecting the change in her voice. He relaxed his shoulder slightly as if Scully had rested her head against his shoulder personally. “What is it?” he replied softly.
She felt herself shiver at his tone. She physically relaxed at his tone. Dear God, what had come over her? Why, after seven years and a few months of random encounters, had everything changed? As scared as she was, her own inward self-preservation was trying to win out against these new found feelings of hers. That is why she fled in the early morning hours. But now...
“Scully?” His voice was soft. How did he know? “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she managed. God, her voice sounded so small.
“Scully? Do you want me there?” he asked slowly.
Yes, oh, God, yes. But instead, she found a little self-control. “I'm okay,” she said.
“Well, that's better than I'm fine,” he replied. She could hear his slight disappointment. “But answer my question. Do you want me there?”
“Mulder, I still expect you to be here tonight. I am not running from you tonight,” she added quickly. “I just can't...I need some control.” Before I lose myself in you, she mentally added. “I am just...”
“I know, Scully,” he replied softly. “I know.”
“Mulder,” she began, unable to finish.
“I know, Scully,” he whispered as if he could read her mind still. “I'll be there tonight, I promise. Don't worry. I'm not going to let you go that easily. I've waited several years for this moment.”
I've always belonged to you, she thought nervously, just like you have always belonged to me.
“So have I,” she confirmed.
“Good. I'm glad. Scully, I'm not running away. Neither are you. I'll see you tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” She was about to hang up. “And Mulder?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Mulder was taken aback, uncertain of why she had said thank you. Thank you for what? Last night? The past seven years? Her infertility? Everything bad that had happened to her life? He felt his stomach tighten.
“Thank you,” she said again, her voice full of emotion.
It took a moment for him to process it. What did he hear? Respect. Adoration. Passion. Love. Love at its most basic form. Scully was not going to run from him. Not this time. “Scully.”
“Hmm.”
“I love you.”
Three simple words. Scully closed her eyes. Padgett's words came back to her about Victorians lack of words for emotion so they had invented words like pang and ache to describe the overpowering emotions, especially when it came to love. “It's a long stretch of love, Mulder,” she commented softly.
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He really thought he had her. Then he was caught off guard.
“But I love you too, Mulder.”
She had never said those words before to him. The last time he had said that to her, in the hospital in Bermuda, she dismissed him with an annoyed 'Oh, brother.' But hearing those words, in her voice, for real. He felt his heart stop. He could only think of one thing. “Can you repeat that?”
She smiled. A goodness to sake honest smile that she rarely gave. “I love you too, Mulder.”
“I could hear that smile, Scully.”
“Come here tonight. Bring food. I expect you to stay the night too,” she replied.
There it was. The gauntlet had been dropped.
“Scully...” She could hear how her surname was drawn out lovingly, he rolled the 'lls' of her last name. He was smiling. He was genuinely happy. She could hear it. Feel it. “I love you.”
There it was. His own gauntlet. Of course, he had to out do her. But for once in her life, she wasn't afraid. In that particular moment, she knew what was right. Not an 'Oh, brother,' or 'Jesus, Mulder.' But she knew the right answer. “I love you, too.”
Yes. She challenged him. She made him better. She was not going to be one to be one running away afraid. He made her better too. She could sense his smile, his happiness, through some unknown connection.
“I'll see you tonight, yes?”
All of you, she added mentally.
“I'm not running mentally,” she said. Did she really say that out loud??? “I'm not running,” she corrected quickly.
“I'll see you tonight, Scully.”
The call ended. She rubbed her face uncharacteristically. But she was smiling. It was an honest to good smile that she rarely showed. In recent years, only Mulder could elicit such a response.
She was looking forward to tonight so much.
….
Was wine too much, Mulder wondered, as he tucked the bottle under his arm. It screamed date night. This was not meant to be a date night. He knew that much. He did not want to scare Scully away any more than he had already with earlier that morning. Last night had been the past seven years coming to a head, just a validation, and acknowledgment of what they already knew and felt. But he also knew that neither of them was particularly good with expressing their own feelings when it came to actual conversation.
But unspoken communication. That was a different matter.
Last night...
He smiled in memory as he walked to her apartment door. The previous night had been nothing short of being amazing. While it had not been the first time they had joined together, it had been the first time that it had actually meant something. He remembered her soft lips, her supple skin...
Before he knew it, his own fist was raising to knock on the door on his own accord.
The knock was short and quick. And then Scully was there in moments. Mulder smiled. She looked softer, more relaxed in the apartment's low light. She wore a soft gray sweater and jeans. He wore his leather jacket, a dark t-shirt, and jeans.
“I thought you were gonna be late,” she spoke softly.
“I never said I was,” he replied. Out of pure instinct, he bent forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I brought wine.”
Without further adieu, he pressed forward into his apartment. Scully stood aside and unconsciously brought her hand to her cheek to where Mulder had pressed that chaste kiss. It felt like it was burning. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to smile. Where he had kissed her felt like a center of warmth spreading through her and flooding her entire body. She smiled. “I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour,” she said.
He turned and smiled. She felt all a tingle. God, what has come over her? She continued to smile. “What?” Mulder asked.
“Nothing. I am just glad you are here, Mulder. That's all.”
He set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table and took off his leather jacket. Scully was still at the apartment door, almost frozen. He smiled goofily and took a few steps forward. He gently squeezed her bicep. “Earth to Scully. Still with me?”
“Yes. Yeah. Yes. Still here.”
He continued to smile and his thumb gently caressed her cheek. She felt herself stiffen but relax within the moment. The early morning left her doubting herself. The mid-morning left her questioning. But now, tonight. Tonight. She was certain. It would be so easy...
Mulder grinned and kissed her cheek softly, almost hesitating to kiss her elsewhere. She almost pouted when he did not. “What?”
“You can kiss me elsewhere,” she blurted out, the filter between her mind and mouth completely failing her.
He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “Nah, I think I will save that for later. For dessert perhaps.”
Scully felt herself warm all over as he let herself into her apartment and squeezed past her. She shut the door behind her as he slipped off his leather jacket and set the bottle of wine on her kitchen table. He paused by the oven and opened it. “Shepherd's Pie, Scully?”
“My mother's recipe. I figure some comfort food in order with how cold it's been with the weather lately,” she answered absently. She watched him and he knew that she knew that he knew she was watching him. He smiled easily at her. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't you mean 'I'm fine', Scully? What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” he teased gently. His smile disarmed her and made her feel like Dana the love struck teenager again. “Scully?”
“More like a fox,” she said vaguely, returning his smile.
Mulder had very rarely seen this side of Scully and he loved it. She was younger and more flirtaous. He bit his bottom lip and smiled even wider. He crossed the expanse of the apartment, trying hard to keep his urges in check. He wanted more than anything than sweep her off her feet and just ravish her in that bedroom to show her how much of a goddess she really was. It would be so easy but he never did things simply, not when it came to Dana Scully.
There was an awkward silence that followed, either one unsure of what to do. She smiled and looked at wine. “Would you prefer beer, Mulder?” she asked. “I think it would go better with the shepherd's pie.”
“You don't like the wine, do you?”
“It's not that,” she said coyly. “It's just, it's really you. Really you. Not some Eddie Van Blunthe. I was drinking wine that night, remember?”
“Oh, so you want the real Fox Mulder?”
“Hm.”
He walked slowly towards her and she smiled teasingly, backing slowly towards the counter. He trapped her between the counter with both of his arms. Mulder liked this Scully, playful and carefree, he rarely saw her. She smiled indulgently and ducked her head under his arms, using her short stature to her advantage when he tried to come in for a kiss. Mulder would have second guessed her intentions if it wasn't for her soft laughter that carried through the apartment. “Dinner is getting cold and I didn't cook for you for nothing!”
. . . .
After dinner, Mulder ushered her into her living room, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. Scully watched him, her mind drifting. She wanted tonight to be different, the previous evening permanently burned into her memory. But she almost remembered that one time she had been conned by Eddie Van Blunthe. She wanted tonight to be different.
“Mulder,” she said softly.
“Hm, Scully?” he looked up from pouring a glass of wine.
“Forget the wine.”
She got up on her knees and put the wine glass and bottle of wine on the table. “What's going on, Scully?” he asked, slightly confused.
“Last night was right.”
“Right?”
“How long...how long have you felt like that about me, Mulder?” she asked softly.
He eased himself across from her on the couch. “How long have I felt...” he repeated. “Jesus...ages, Scully. I didn't realize it until after your abduction but I first got my crush right after the Jersey Devil incident. You would have rather come for me than have some date with some average guy. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly run of the mill."
"No," she whispered, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You're far from it."
Mulder shifted uneasily from the couch. "What's changed in you, Scully?"
"For once," she shrugged, looking up, "everything just seems right."
Right, Mulder mused. He looked at the discarded wine and glasses. "There really is no point to those are there?"
"No."
"What do you want, Scully?"
"I want a future that includes us," she said softly. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Mulder, and I think, neither do you."
Mulder was quiet and gently cupped her cheek like he had the night before. His fingers dragged down her jaw and he sought her lips hungrily. Scully kept her reactions silent, forbidding herself to lose control so quickly. But she couldn't help it. A small moan escaped her lips and she felt her body press against his chest. His arms wove tightly around her. She felt everything set aflame.
"Mulder..." she breathed. She arched her neck and back as he greedily kissed the length of her neck and pulled the neck of her sweater away and bit lightly into her shoulder. "Oh, Jesus..."
The electricity was earth shaking. Mulder thought last night had been amazing but this moment seemed to pale in comparison, and nothing had even happened yet. He continued his assault, using his tongue to smooth the space where he had bit her before sneaking another line of kisses back to her mouth. She moaned slightly, her cries silenced by the invasion his tongue. She continued to arch her body against him, grinding herself slowly against him. Each press of her body against his, she felt a growing pressure beneath her. She smiled against his mouth.
"Hello," she gasped. She pulled back and grinned. "Happy to see me, Mulder?"
"Happy to know you are still here," he answered sincerely. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I am happy for this moment."
Scully sighed contently. "Let's go somewhere more private, Mulder." She nodded towards her bedroom. "I'm not running this time."
He nodded. Last night had been amazing, make no mistake. It had been everything he had imagined for the past seven years and more. So much more. But now...
"I'd hope not," he whispered, caressing her cheek. "Scully. Look at me."
"Hm," she said. Her mind was elsewhere. She kept replaying the previous night in her mind and how everything simply had just come to a head. It had been magical. And rushed. The past seven years, they had found a trust in each that had gotten them so far. And now...
Mulder cupped her face within his hands, his thumb continually caressing her temple. “I love you.”
She smiled, kissing the inside of his wrist and whispered in reply. “I love you, too.”
He smiled and lowered his gaze. It seemed so easy. Too easy. That after several years of hardships, near death experiences, an abduction, and endless government conspiracies.... “A long stretch of love,” Mulder whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
“As much as I love you being romantic,” she began, slowly kissing his lips down his jaw and then biting his neck lightly. She felt him tense against her and a small moan escaped his lips. “You do have a tendency to ramble, Mulder. And right now, I want your actions to speak louder than words.”
“Is that a challenge, Agent Scully?”
“It is, Agent Mulder. Are you up to it?”
He grinned and pulled her hand hurried into her bedroom. Scully's blood was on fire. She bit her bottom lip, grinning, in anticipation. “So, Agent Scully,” Mulder began, his voice dropped in volume, but he used the same tone when he was excited about a new case. “Where should I began this investigation?”
“What investigation?” she smiled, narrowing her eyes.
He took her hands, slowly walking her backward to the bed until she crawled up on the bed. He approached her like a predator. She licked her lips as her eyes narrowed. “Well,” he began, his hand slowly sneaking up underneath her shirt. “You left in such hurry last night and we weren't exactly slow, I did not have a chance to conduct a thorough investigation.”
She eased herself across the bed, her breath caught every few seconds as Mulder's hand continued his explorations beneath her shirt. Gently he pulled her shirt off and took a moment to gaze at her. “What?” she asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” he grinned. “No, everything is perfect.”
She gave a throaty chuckle as Mulder began to kiss down her shoulder to her breast bone. She fidgeted underneath him and tried to sit up. He grunted in reply and wordless snaked his arms around her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. He licked his lips hungrily. “I missed these, Scully,” he teased. “And as a good investigator, I must review all evidence.”
“Well, make sure you didn't miss anything,” she whispered, her blue eyes watching him intently.
He continued to lick his lips thoughtfully, as if unsure of what to do next. And she felt herself go wet with desire. That mouth. That tongue. For years, she watched him shuck those infinite number of sunflower seeds with such skill. She wondered what else he was capable of. She had just gotten a taste of it the night before. It had been so fleeting. But now...he held nothing back. He kissed her breastbone again, slowly and tantalizingly, and Scully writhed under him. He settled his leg between her knees and gently grasped both of her hands above her hand with his left hand while his right hand expanded over her right breast and his mouth began to work on her left breast.
She squeezed his hand, sighing. She closed her eyes and could feel him tracing her breast with his tongue, kissing here, biting light there, even occasionally suckling. His right hand did not make her other breast feel unloved as it traced it lightly, occasionally molding and massaging it. He switched and she felt him press into her, again feeling the hot bulge between them.
“Mulder,” she called breathlessly.
“Hm,” he asked looking up. His hazel eyes were bright. “I must say, I am trying to be thorough, Scully.”
“No,” she sighed.
It was becoming too much for her. She could already feel her body tensing and building towards an orgasm. She shook her head and opened her eyes. “What is it?”
“I need you,” she managed between short breaths.
He grinned devilishly. “I'm not quite done yet, Scully. There is more evidence to consider.”
“Well,” she sighed, still moving under him, “you better lose this if you want to use all of your senses and in conducting this investigation.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt. He pulled his shirt off and smiled when her hands reached up to touch his chest. She traced his chest lovingly, her eyes following her hand, as she wordlessly began to recite the muscles of the human body. “Scully, I'm the one conducting this investigation, remember?”
She smiled playfully and bent up slightly to kiss him. “Of course, Agent Mulder. Proceed.”
“Of course, Dr. Scully.”
Then he continued to kiss her, this time, trailing down her stomach, lingering over the angry scar of the gunshot wound that rested slightly above her belly button. Then her eyes widened with the realization of when he kept heading south. “Mulder,” she called.
“Hm.” He read the shock in her eyes and smiled. “Trust me, Scully. I got you.”
She couldn't find the words to express her shock at what was about to happen. He undid her jeans and pulled them down gently. She shivered feeling his fingertips gently graze her legs. “Fuck, Mulder,” she gasped.
“I haven't done anything yet.”
“You've done plenty already, trust me.” She sucked in a breath, willing her oncoming orgasm to hold off.
“Well, I'm just getting started.”
She closed her eyes when she felt the warm breath from his nose, and then his tongue dart gently against her folds before he delved deeper. With each stroke of his tongue, it stoked her fires. She began to squirm and grind against his face for relief. She felt herself beginning to tense again. Mulder, as if sensing her oncoming orgasm added his fingers to the mix. She shut her eyes when she felt her world explode with one finally flick of Mulder's tongue. She had never experienced such a powerful orgasm before that she saw stars behind her closed eyes. “FUCK!”
Mulder looked proud of himself when she opened her eyes again. “Why, Dr. Scully, I don't believe I am familiar with that medical term.”
She was laughing again and he could feel his own tightness becoming too much to bear. He inched his way back up, slowly grinding his jeans against her, while he kissed her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him back slightly.
“Now, Mulder. Now.”
He kissed her neck and nodded wordlessly. Her hands were already busy undoing his belt and button. He slipped his jeans off and his boxers too. He pressed himself against her and she sighed. “Are you sure, Scully?” he whispered softly.
“Mulder, I have never been so sure in my life.”
He prepared himself to enter but she was one step ahead of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crossed her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his back side. It was enough to push himself in one smooth motion. She gasped, feeling him fully inside of her. Mulder tensed, his arm straining to hold them both up as his arm wrapped around her to keep her close. “Scully?”
She relaxed and sighed, resting her head in the crook his neck. “Yes. It's just...I thought this couldn't get any better. Last night was amazing but now...”
“Perfect,” he breathed, feeling her around him, drawing him in both internally and externally.
“Yeah.”
He moved tentatively at first but she moved with him. The previous night had been slightly awkward, their first movements together were foreign. But tonight, their unspoken communication key, they were able to move together with the expertise of long time lovers. It only took a few thrusts for both of them to be on the edge. “Mulder,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you close?”
“Oh, God, yes,” he growled.
“Together,” she whispered, her hand tracing his sweaty back. “Together or not at all.”
“That's asking a lot,” he managed. “If it were possible.”
“I believe in us,” she whispered, nibbling his ear. “We can do it, Mulder.”
She may be a skeptic, he mused, but she was the believer when it came to them. With renewed vigor, he continued his thrusts, Scully rising each time to greet him. It only took a few more times before they both were crying out unison, the tension and love the most exquisite thing that either had ever had felt. She relaxed, feeling him on top of her. He sighed happily and rolled to the side, never letting her go. She sighed happily, giggling as she kissed his chest, and looked up. “Told ya,” she whispered.
“Well, that was quite an investigation.”
“And the results, Agent Mulder.”
He held her close and sighed contently. “No more running, Scully.”
“No more running. It's a long stretch of love. We're in it for the long haul,” she whispered, relaxing against him. “I promise.”
She’s walked with her hand on his back, block after block.
Usually it’s him with his hand on the small of her back, guiding her and supporting her and telling her with silent words that I’m with you. But today, it’s her with her hand on his back, on his left shoulder blade, where his heart beats on the other side of the bone. I’m with you.
Words Scully never thought she needed to say it out loud to him, because Mulder knows; surely he knows.
It’s only been a couple of days, really. She turned off her phone last night because she doesn’t want him to keep on making international calls. It’s only been two days, but boy, does she miss this man. It feels like they’ve been apart for so long.
Seeing someone from your past life does that to you, Scully realizes. Isn’t that the truth? That was another lifetime, her time before the X-Files, before the FBI, before Fox Mulder.
Mulder keeps looking at her, looking as if he has a world of things to say to her. They walk on this mellow spring day, passing pedestrians and shops she’s never really paid attention to before. Thanks to global warming, DC feels like LA now. It’s so sunny.
Her car’s parked not far, and as much as she enjoys the breezy weather, she wants to get home. His home, her home—it doesn’t matter. That’s been blurred for a while now. What’s his is hers, and what’s hers is his, no?
They wait at the crosswalk; she counts with the flashing red hand sign on the other side. 23, 22, 21...
“Got you something,” Mulder says with glee. “Here.”
He takes the white cap off his head and swiftly puts it on her head. God, she thinks, not that silly Stonehenge cap.
“If you got it for me, how come you’re wearing it?” she asks, her eyes still on the digital countdown.
He says with an obvious tone, “I wanted to break it in for you. And so that it’ll smell like me.”
Mulder glances at her, a little shyly, a little proudly. Boyish and manly, he’s her Fox Mulder, the truest enigma she’s ever met.
“You look good in a hat, Scully.” His grin announces that he’s pleased with his choice of souvenir. “Even in a magician’s top hat, Scully. Not many people can pull that off without looking silly.”
She thinks about how silly she must look right now with a cap that says Stonehenge Rocks.
“I’d like to see you more in hats.”
His comment amuses her, and she smirks.
“Only in a hat would be fine, too,” he adds with a sincere leer.
“Just a hat?” Scully repeats as they start crossing the street. The white little digital man is still out, solid and not blinking; their countdown has yet to start.
“Of course, there are a lot of hats. I even thought about getting you a cowboy hat.” He admits.
“Do you know they have cowboys in the UK, too?” Mulder’s babbling now, and she listens with a smile, thinking of how much she misses him.
“I heard you can ride a cowboy when you’re wearing a cowboy hat, but I’m no cowboy, so no cowboy hats for you, Ma’am.” He whispers lowly in her ear as they finish crossing the pedestrian walkway.
Scully looks up at him; her hand has made it around his bicep now. Without thinking, she moves it to the back of his shoulder blade again.
“I got you duty-free chocolates.” He brags like a father from some fairy tale, bringing gifts to his little children after a journey. “I rarely travel without you nowadays, now that I don’t ditch you anymore.”
“Mulder,” she begins with a serious expression, “if I have a Stonehenge cap, does it mean I get to ride a UFO geek?”
“You betcha, Scully,” he approves.
“Cowboys say ‘hee-haw.’”
“Well, Agent Scully, you’ll have to wait and find out what a UFO geek says.”
