“It’s always magical to see them, because it’s almost as if time stops for them. When they look at each other, it’s like they share something that only they know. It’s like they share a secret.
“Whenever I see that, whenever I see them embrace and look at each other, the smiles are– there’s not a moment’s falseness. There’s a true warmth between them.
David and Gillian having a disagreement about whether Mulder and Scully were married in the 2nd X Files movie - and ironically acting like a married couple themselves.
– David Duchovny & Gillian Anderson on the red carpet, Paley, Oct 2013
[Flash photography warning! Apologies, there was nothing I could do to remove it. Wish an HQ version of this conversation existed]
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her over the console, and she moved the binoculars from her lap to her eyes, training them on the darkened house where there was surely nothing to see.
It was hardly a remarkable question; in fact, it was one they asked each other frequently. Some of their best conversations had begun this way across diner booths and motel beds, airplane seats and the desk in the basement.
“I was thinking about how every person named Jeremiah that I’ve ever met was an asshole,” she might answer.
“I was thinking about this really good chilli dog I had at a stand in Chicago,” he might say.
Sometimes the thoughts they admitted to were less frivolous, revealing unspoken insecurities or fears, regrets and painful memories.
“I was thinking about my friend, Ellen. I just realized I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year. We used to talk every day,” she’d once lamented.
“I was remembering a time Samantha asked me to sleep in her room because she had a nightmare that someone tried to take her,” he’d relayed somberly.
Lost in contemplation, mentally miles from wherever they were seated, they’d call each other back with this question and bring the other along for the journey. There seemed to be a tacit agreement that they’d always answer honestly, at least he believed so based on her sometimes startling candor, and so he’d always followed suit.
“I was thinking that I’m probably going to start my period tomorrow and I don’t have any tampons,” she’d once said, and he’d wordlessly steered the car into the next drugstore parking lot.
“I was thinking about this woman I dated in college that I treated like shit. I wish I could tell her I’m sorry,” he’d revealed.
Four hours into an uneventful stakeout, their coffee cups long since empty and their breath growing visible as the chill of midnight settled over the car, he could see the gears turning in her head. Her eyes were trained on some distant point, unfocused and hazy. And so as he’d done many times, he called her back.
“What are you thinking about?”
The binoculars still perched above her nose, she answered flatly, as though disinterested in the conversation.
“I was thinking about sex.”
He cocked his head back a little as though physically impacted by the weight of her answer thrown so casually across the car.
“Oh?” he responded, both intrigued and caught off guard.
She lowered the binoculars, returning them to her lap as she bored a hole through the windshield with a vacant stare.
“I was thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, and how depressing that is,” she continued matter of factly.
He couldn’t find the words to respond, just kept opening and closing his mouth like a hungry goldfish. She turned to look at him, her brow immediately furrowing and her mouth falling open with sad surprise.
“I’m sorry, Mulder, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she apologized sincerely.
He shook his head softly, his lips rooting for words.
“No, you didn’t...you didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he stammered, suddenly desperate for this conversation not to end. “It hasn’t...I mean, two years isn’t that long, in the grand scheme of things.”
“Two years?” she repeated with a perplexed expression. “It’s been a helluva lot longer than two years.”
“Didn’t you...get your tattoo about two years ago?” he offered, carefully avoiding saying Ed’s name.
“Yeah,” she replied with a questioning tone.
“So then...how is it longer than two years?” he asked, starting to become confused by her confusion.
Suddenly, her eyebrows lifted, a look of understanding falling over her features.
“I didn’t have sex with Ed,” she said with a slightly amused tone.
He turned to look out the windshield, an immutable fact that shaped his mental schema of Scully suddenly turned on its side. Considering the implication for a moment, he turned to look back at her, finding an expectant expression on her face.
“You didn’t?” he questioned, resenting the level of surprise in his own voice.
She shook her head softly.
“Why did I think you did?” he asked next. He had been so sure she slept with Ed.
She shrugged. “It’s a fair assumption. I went out with him and stayed the night at his apartment.”
He almost didn’t ask the next question, but curiosity is a wicked thing.
“Why didn’t you? Sleep with him?” he asked, immediately bracing for the backlash.
She looked away for a moment, chewing her bottom lip in consideration. Perhaps consideration over how to answer, or whether to answer at all.
“At the time,” she began, “I probably would have said that he was trying to be chivalrous and not move too quickly. But in retrospect, I think the ergot poisoning is likely to blame. Given that he thought his tattoo was directing him, telling him what to do, it seems quite possible that his tattoo told him not to.”
She was being very open, a rare occurrence and one he hoped he didn’t squander by asking too much, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
“But you would have? Or you were going to, if he hadn’t…”
She turned her head sharply to look at him and he stopped, inferring he’d taken it too far.
“Would I have had sex with him?” she clarified, and she didn’t seem to be offended by the question. “Yeah, I was fully intending to. But as you know...it didn’t work out.”
They were quiet for a moment, and he had so much more he wanted to ask but it felt like he’d used up all his capital in terms of questions. When she spoke again, it startled him to the point that he almost jumped.
“So it’s been more like five years, I think. Give or take.”
He did some quick mental math. They’d been partners for six years, so whoever it was, it happened when he knew her.
“You had some secret beau I wasn’t privy to, Scully?” he joked, though he was disturbed by the idea. They spent so much time together, and had since early on in their partnership, so she would have had to actively hide a relationship.
“No,” she answered emphatically. “Well, not technically. I was seeing someone when we first started working together but we broke up before it would have made sense to mention him to you. When my father died, he showed up at the memorial service and...well, let’s just say I was in a vulnerable place. Not one of my shining moments.”
“Nor his,” Mulder countered, immediately angry by the idea that her ex would take advantage of her when she was grieving. He remembered offering to go to that service with her, but Scully insisted that he didn’t need to. He wondered what would have happened had he gone.
“Well, this has been sufficiently depressing,” she said lightly, trying to bring levity to the moment. “Sorry to drag you along to my pity party.”
He chucked. “Hey, I’m not faring much better over here. I think it’s been...damn, almost five years for me too.”
She cast him an incredulous look. “Really? I find that surprising.”
“You do? Why’s that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just...do.”
“Well, despite my reputation, which is informed by a few poor choices made in quick succession when I was new to the bureau, I’m more of a relationship person. Never did do much casual dating, or sleeping around for that matter.”
“Hm,” she replied in response, contemplating this information. “So who was the girl five years ago then? Did you have a secret love affair I wasn’t privy to, Mulder?” Her tone was jovial, not judgmental or jealous, not that he’d have minded the latter.
“No, not at all,” he said, the memory making him feel melancholy. “It was when you were abducted, actually. I was really sad, and the whole thing was really weird and...not my shining moment either, I guess.”
“Oh,” she said with some surprise, and he saw her hand move to take his, but they were interrupted by a tapping on the window.
“Evening, lovebirds,” Agent Dixon sneered through the glass. “We’re here to relieve you.”
———
Boxes of greasy takeout were scattered around the table between sheets of paper, crime scene photos and soda cans: their work for the evening. This motel boasted two chairs as part of the seating arrangement, a rare find, and the agents sat opposite each other, picking through every last detail of the case between bites of mu shu pork. Mulder sat back in his chair, rolling his head around and emitting several crunches and pops before he came to a stop, staring vacantly towards the adjoining door that led to Scully’s room. She continued to work for a few minutes until she could see the trance-like glaze cover his eyes, and then she called him back.
“What are you thinking about?”
His eyes snapped up to hers, surprise pulling at his brows, and she knew that whatever it was, he felt like he’d been caught by her asking about it. He pulled in a breath, considering how to answer.
“I was, um...I was thinking about sex, actually.”
“Oh?” she asked in return, amused that the topic had come up again. “What about it?”
“I was just thinking, wondering, why you don’t just go pick up a guy at a bar again, like you did with Ed. Once bitten, twice shy, maybe?”
She smiled quizzically at him. “That’s what you were thinking about?”
He shrugged, a shy smile quirking the corner of his mouth.
“Well, for one, you make it sound so easy to just waltz into a bar and find a suitable person who’s also interested in casual sex,” she started, and he scoffed. “What?”
“I guarantee you that if you walked into any bar on this earth and approached any man who you were interested in, they would also be interested,” he insisted, and she felt a blush creep from her chest to her cheeks.
“Thank you, but I don’t plan to test that theory,” she replied. “And anyway, even if it were that easy, one night stands are rarely very gratifying.”
“No emotional connection?” he ventured, and she recalled him identifying that as the reason he didn’t have casual sex.
“No, emotional connection isn’t absolutely necessary, but someone who knows what the hell they’re doing is. It can take quite a bit of time for a new partner to...learn the ropes, so a random encounter with someone I've never slept with before isn’t likely to be anything to write home about. And while perhaps there’s a man out there who would get it right on the first try, I certainly haven’t run across him,” she declared, rifling through the papers on the table to avoid meeting his eye.
He didn’t speak, and when she finally looked up at him she found a smug little smirk on his mouth that made her stomach clench.
“Well, maybe you will someday,” he said lightly, and she felt the sudden need to leave the room.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” she said curtly, gathering some papers and making for the door.
———
He knew she was exhausted and frustrated with him. They’d been at it for hours, and just when she’d gotten home and into comfortable clothes, he’d called and asked her to come back and run down another possible lead. He knew she was over it because she hadn’t even bothered to get dressed, arriving outside his door in cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt, her face bare. He couldn’t suppress a smile, even knowing how irritated she already was, because this was his favorite version of her: unmade and without pretense, just Scully.
“Glad to know you’re having a good time,” she commented, pushing past him to enter the apartment. “What is it now?”
Forty minutes later, the lead run down, they sat side by side on the couch in contemplative silence, each too tired to summon the will to move. He peeked over at her, admiring the dusting of freckles across her nose and the little mole above her lip. Her ocean blue eyes were distant, lost somewhere.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him suddenly, her eyes lifting to meet his only after the words left her mouth.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he replied with a soft smile.
“I was thinking about how good a bath and a glass of wine sound right now, but that would require getting off this couch and driving home,” she said regretfully, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
He nodded, feeling a little pang of guilt for dragging her back over here.
“Well?” she asked, drawing her legs up onto the couch and poking his thigh with her big toe.
“Hm?”
“What were you thinking about?” she cajoled, wiggling her toes for emphasis.
“Oh, nothing,” he answered, grabbing her foot and squeezing it.
She tilted her head, studying him with interest.
“You’ve never not answered before,” she observed with obvious intrigue.
He shrugged, looking around for something else to talk about, to focus on.
“Now you have to tell me,” she insisted, shaking her foot free of his hand and poking his leg again.
“It’s late, you should get home. I’m gonna hit the hay,” he stated casually, leaning forward to organize the files that were strewn across the coffee table.
“Mulder!” she admonished with a smile, “I’m too curious now, is it something weird? Mental footage from one of your videos? Bigfoot porn? Spill it.”
“No, nothing weird,” he replied with a sigh of defeat, sitting back to look at her. She was even more breathtaking with a smile on her lips. “Honestly, I was just thinking that you look really beautiful.”
She cast him a mirthful look and rolled her eyes. “Don’t avoid the question with flattery, Mulder.”
“I’m not,” he defended. “You normally have makeup on and it covers your freckles and that cute little mole above your lip, and I don’t get to see you very often without it. And you’re just...you’re really beautiful, and that’s what I was thinking about. Scout’s honor,” he finished with a little salute.
His own dignity done for, he watched her carefully as her cheeks flushed and she looked away bashfully.
“And you’re even prettier when you’re embarrassed,” he observed. “Sorry, you forced my hand.”
“No, it’s okay,” she replied. “Thank you.”
She stood, gathering her things and walking to the door with a somewhat dazed expression. He followed her, his heart thrumming steadily in his chest at the electricity in the air. She opened the door, turning back to him within its frame and giving him an expectant look.
“Ask me again,” he requested, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Ask me what I’m thinking about.”
“What are you thinking about?” she asked breathily.
“I’m thinking about...I’m thinking about kissing you. But I’m not sure if that would be okay.”
Her lips parted as though to give the answer themselves, but not until she nodded softly did he feel safe accepting it as a yes. He stepped forward, bringing his hand to her cheek and stooping slightly. She pushed up on to her tiptoes to close remaining space between them and their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. Her lips were perfect, as plush and sweet as he’d ever imagined. He was about to deepen the kiss, to flick his tongue out to taste her, but she pulled back.
“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said, placing her hand briefly on his chest before she walked through the open door and disappeared down the hall.
———
She dreaded being asked again. She worked hard to remain focused and alert, not to get lost in thought, not give him a reason to ask because there would only be one honest answer. She’d be thinking about him, about that kiss, every moment of the day. That’s all that had occupied her mind since that night, and she was both terrified of being asked to admit it, and thrilled by the idea of what might happen if she did.
She caught the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice, and wondered how long he’d been looking at her like that. Had she been so oblivious, or was she in denial? She wished she knew what he was thinking, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Was he thinking about it just as much as she was?
They were in some shitty motel in Iowa, the kind with paper thin walls and no water pressure to speak of. No chairs at all, much less two, just a double bed and a TV set atop a rickety cart. They sat side by side near the headboard, passing pages from the file back and forth and grabbing slices of pizza from the box settled between their legs on the comforter.
She’d washed her face before coming over to his room, trying not to think about why she was doing it. Pausing to look at her freckled cheeks and the natural pink of her lips, she had wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She wondered what he was seeing now as she read over an autopsy report beside him, feeling his eyes on her as she took bites from a slice of pepperoni and mushroom.
When the box was empty, he tossed it on the floor and scooted closer to her, reading the page over her shoulder. She felt a little rush spread from her chest to her pelvis, something anticipatory and foreign, a long-forgotten sensation that made her feel like a teenager.
“What does this mean?” he asked, pointing to a field on the form. His forearm brushed against her breast as he pulled his hand back and she sucked in a little breath involuntarily.
“It indicates the level of lividity,” she answered, working hard to keep her voice level.
“And this?” he asked, leaning into her a bit to point to another field. This time, when he dropped his hand he let it fall against her thigh. She swallowed hard.
“That indicates rigor,” she answered, her breathing becoming labored despite her lack of physical exertion.
He plucked the page from her hands, giving it a cursory glance before setting it aside and turning back to her. They held a beat of awkward eye contact before she looked away, her fingers twiddling nervously in her lap.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
That wasn’t fair; she wasn’t lost in thought. He was using the game to try and start something, to bring to light the tension between them.
“Nothing,” she forced out, a lie they could both easily identify as such.
“Okay,” he said, sitting back, moving away from her. He heard the ‘no’ in her answer, and she hated herself for having given it.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood and moved towards the connecting door.
“Are we done for the night?” she asked over her shoulder, hardly waiting for his affirmative answer before she passed through the door and pushed her side closed behind her.
She paced from the bed to the door, wondering what the hell she was doing. Mulder wanted her, it was clear he did, and she wanted him. What was she so afraid of? Ruining their friendship? Violating bureau policy? She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, rubbing her hands over her face. What if something happened to them tomorrow? What if he died, or she did; would she wish things had been different? Would she wish that she’d taken the chance?
Standing, she went back to the adjoining door and pulled it open, finding his side closed. She knocked urgently, afraid that she’d lose her nerve if too much time passed. Mulder pulled the door open, concern and confusion on his face.
“Ask me again,” she blurted out.
His confusion deepened momentarily, but then his face softened as he understood.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.
She stepped forward, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips firmly against his. He stiffened momentarily out of surprise, but then relaxed and brought his hands to her waist, lifting her slightly so she wouldn’t have to stretch so far to reach him. Tightening her grip around his neck for leverage, she wrapped her legs around his hips. He moved his hands to the backs of her thighs, walking them into her room and towards the bed. Suddenly she was falling, crashing against the mattress as he hovered over her and nestled his hips between her thighs, his lips hot on her neck. His hands now free, they skirted underneath her shirt and touched the bare skin of her sides.
“Is this okay?” he asked against her ear.
“Yes,” she breathed out, hooking her fingers under the waistband of his sweats and running them across his belly. His abdominal muscles jumped and contracted in anticipation as his fingertips brushed over her nipples, which were already hard.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice tight with the effort of restraint. He didn’t want to move more quickly than she was ready for.
“I don’t know,” she replied, her words catching as two rough fingers pinched at her nipple. “Everything. You.”
He hummed in response, pushing up her T-shirt to expose her breasts and capturing a rosy nipple between his lips. Her hips bucked up into him, the stiff mast of his erection pressing against her heat and making her bite her lip to stifle a moan. Slipping one hand under the waist of his sweats, she palmed him over his boxers, her eyes rolling to the back of her head at the knowledge that he may well be inside her soon. He didn’t bother suppressing his own moan, groaning low and long with her nipple poised between his teeth. Encouraged by his vocalization, she started to push insistently at the elastic of his pants, forcing them down his hips along with his boxers until she was grabbing at his bare ass cheeks, feeling the muscles contract as he rocked his hips against her. Moving her hand to the front, she wrapped her fist around his cock, hot and hard and smooth as she pumped up and down slowly.
“Jesus fuck,” he groaned, “slow down.”
She couldn’t slow down, didn’t know how even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. She felt like a boulder tumbling down hill, picking up speed; the more she had, the more she wanted.
Grabbing at the hem of her T-shirt, she arched her back in order to pull it over her head, pushing Mulder’s shirt up his back before hers hit the floor. Shifting his weight to his knees, he tugged it off in one quick movement, bringing his lips back to her neck immediately. She bent her knees and dragged her feet up the backs of his thighs until she found the waist of his sweatpants, hooking it between her toes and pushing them further down until they cleared his knees and fell to the floor around his feet.
“Touché, Houdini,” he said wryly, stepping out of his pants before grabbing the waist of hers and stripping them down along with her panties, leaving them both nude.
He settled back between her legs, his erection brushing against her labia making her startle.
“Something wrong?” he asked, stilling his movement.
“No, no,” she consoled him, bringing her hands to his buttocks and pulling him firmly against her.
They each breathed out matching sighs, this bit of contact feeling so long overdue, and so very wanted. They kissed for a minute or two, the gentle rock of his hips sliding him deliciously through her wetness. She began to rock her pelvis in synchrony, aligning them by feel as her hands brushed over the hair at the nape of his neck, and his trailed over the sides of her breasts where his arms were bracketed beside her rib cage. When they found just the right angle, the perfect alignment of yin and yang, his head drifted just inside her opening. They both paused, pulling their faces a hairsbreadth apart and looking at one another.
“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing the tip of his nose across hers.
“Yes, are you?” she returned, placing whisper-soft kisses to each of his cheeks.
“Very sure,” he replied, kissing each corner of her mouth and then her lips as he slowly pushed inside.
He felt incredible. Hot and hard and smooth, the smell of his deodorant and the salt of his lips against the full perfect stretch of his length inside her. It had been so long.
“You...are fucking perfect,” he said in awe as he slowly withdrew and slid back in, and she couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped her lips. He felt so good.
“Faster,” she murmured self-consciously, feeling like she might die if he kept this agonizing pace.
He complied, making her shriek with pleasant surprise as he began hammering into her. This is fucking, she may have thought, were she capable for forming a complete thought in that moment. She always did appreciate being fucked.
Suddenly he grimaced and withdrew from her, his shining cock resting against her mons impatiently.
“That’s gonna make me come,” he explained shyly. “What do you need?”
The corner of her mouth quirked into a little smile. Leave it to Mulder to actually ask rather than just do something that worked on some other woman he slept with and assume it will work for her.
“You could lay on your back,” she suggested, all her fantasies about boldly climbing into his lap and taking charge melting under the reality of her nakedness.
He did as instructed and she crawled up beside him, nestling the front of her body against the side of his and trailing her fingers through his chest hair. Looking at his face like that, knowing he would see her fully on display, she suddenly didn’t think she could do it.
“Do you want me to turn that light off?” Mulder asked as though reading her mind, gesturing to the open door to his room through which light was pouring into hers.
She nodded with a thankful expression and he slid out from under her, crossing the room without a seeming stitch of self-consciousness regarding his own nudity. She pursed her lips tightly to avoid giggling at the sight of his stiff cock bobbing in the air before him as he crossed over and switched off the light, plunging the room into near pitch-blackness. She listened as he shuffled his way back to her, feeling in front of him to maneuver around the furniture in the dark. When he found the bed, he continued to feel around until he located her, and then her breasts, giving them exploratory squeezes as though using them as landmarks.
“That you?” he asked rhetorically, and that time, she did giggle.
He returned to his spot on his back and she nestled up to him again, touching his shoulder and sliding her fingers along his neck, then jaw, until she found his lips and brought her own to meet them. As their tongues slid over one another, her hand slid down his belly until she found his half-soft dick and set about the task of getting him hard enough to climb on top of. It didn’t take long; he could have gotten hard from sheer anticipation without being touched at all. When he was again at full mast, she sat up a bit and hitched one leg over his hips, taking a seat on his lower belly while his erection brushed against her ass cheeks. Leaning forward to continue kissing him, she scooted back a bit and reached between them to position him at her entrance, sinking onto him in one fluid movement.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, bucking up against her involuntarily.
She hummed, beginning a slow rock of her hips forward and back. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she could make out the silhouette of shapes in the room, but no details. Knowing that Mulder couldn’t clearly see her allowed her to forget about what faces she was making or how she looked from this angle and just enjoy him. Her pace quickened, finding a rhythm she’d enjoyed in the past but nearly forgotten about. It felt great, but she knew it wasn’t enough and she wondered if Mulder would be able to tell if she touched herself. Not that she thought it would bother him, in fact he’d probably like it, but it just felt too private. As she ground against him and grappled with this decision, Mulder again seemed to know what she needed as she felt his thumb wriggle between them until it was firmly planted on her clit.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed out, needing him to know that it was the right thing to do. Needing him not to stop.
Close, she was getting so close. She knew what could bring her the rest of the way. Touching his hand that was planted on her hip, she guided him to her breast and felt the crest of an orgasm overtake her soon after he began rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She let only the tiniest whimpers escape her throat as she came, but she knew he could feel it by the way he moaned and started thrusting up into her, both his hands gripping her hips as he found his own release. She went limp against him, her cheek resting on his sweat-damp chest as he ran his hands over her back, his erection not leaving her body until it faded enough that he slipped out. The little rush of fluid that followed made her crack a smile, another distant memory she’d long forgotten brought to light.
They stayed like that for a long time. Quite a long time considering the stickiness to be cleaned and the future to consider. When they peeled apart their sated bodies, there would be the matter of what it meant, and what would happen tomorrow. Avoiding all that, they laid there until their skin cooled, and then Mulder grabbed the edge of the comforter and tossed it over the both of them.
As the rush of dopamine faded from her limbs, it was replaced by a small swell of panic and her formerly comfy spot draped over Mulder’s torso started to feel like a prison. The moment she moved the spell would be broken, and there would be reality to face. She had the thought that perhaps if he fell asleep she could extricate herself without waking him, but then remembered they were in her room.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked suddenly, his voice amplified by her ear pressed against his chest.
She hesitated, afraid to answer but not wanting to lie. When she didn’t speak, he answered his own question.
“I was thinking...that I hope you don’t regret that. Because I don’t,” he said softly, his fingertips fluttering over her lower back.
She closed her eyes as a swell of affection clutched in her chest, and then she relaxed against him.
“Ask me again,” she requested, her words distorted by the way her lips moved against his skin.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“I was thinking that I could never regret that,” she turned her head to place a kiss to his pectoral, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at his face, though she couldn’t see it in the low light. “Never with you.”
So I was trying to explain David and Gillian to my nurse today, and found myself at a loss for words. So instead I came up with a highlight reel:
( I know I’ve left stuff out, but I’ve been working on this for an hour)
They Meet:
Which leads to This A Few Months Later:
They Get Closer at the Season Three Wrap Party with Gillian’s husband in the background:
They Go to The Golden Globes Together in 1997 and this happens:
And also this:
And Then, the Dark Ages in 1998:
Which Also Gave Us Whatever in the fuck This Is:
But Things Settle Down Eventually and We Get to This:
By 2007 there were talks of doing Another Movie And So Work Started:
Which Lead, Eventually, to Press in 2008 And Close Talking:
And Then Gillian Flew Across the Atlantic to see Her BFF in His Theater debut in 2010:
Which Lead to 2011 and the IBG Event:
And On To 2012, where Gillian Makes a Set Visit to Californication and Evan Outs Them, then deletes This Tweet:
And THEN there’s 2013/Comic Coms/Press and A Change Begins to Emerge:
Paley 2013:
And NYCC 2013:
As We Get Into 2014, denials of Dating/Living Together and Generally Being Coy, while Confusing The Hell Out of Everyone:
And Then We Get 2015, A Whole Bunch of Madness:
2015 Also Left Us With A Few “gates”.
StringGate:
HickeyGate:
PhoneGate:
Which Happened Probably Because of This:
Shooting the Revival in June 2015:
And a Photo Shoot:
As 2015 Came to a Close with this: A change in Pronouns:
2016 May Prove to be the Year of Gillovny:
Interviews:
A little kiss on his thumb, Jimmy
Followed by some leg groping:
And then Some Grasping of her face:
Doing An Important “skit” for Kimmel:
WifeGate 2016 edition, Denying Being Married:
While Acting Married:
TCA’s:
XF Revival Premiere:
And More Photo Shoots (some more legit than others) :
“Put any human being in that situation, working the amount that we worked and going through the ride from obscurity to global (fame), it’s just crazy-making,” he said. “It’s a natural human emotion to have enough of one another in that situation. Now it’s quite the opposite, it’s respect and love and gratitude.” - David Duchovny, January 2016, from newser dot com.
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