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“Let’s take this slow,” he’d whispered into the shell of her ear, the warmth of his breath eliciting a shudder across her whole body. Goosebumps adorned every inch of her skin, and he took his time feeling them all as if reading a message coded in the braille of her flesh.

A smile spread on his face as he felt what was communicated beneath his fingertips. I want you.

Everything they did was slow, a metronome set the pace for a dance that was they never anticipated would happen.

Slow was years of partnership before saying the words I love you. For years merely experiencing them through a touch or a gaze and hoping the other person would ever know how much they meant.

Slow was the seven years she had to live through before she knew that the actual feeling of his lips against hers was better than anything she could have ever imagined. That her dreams couldn’t accurately depict the scrapes of his facial hair rubbing against the skin around her mouth, the shuddered breaths he released out of his nose as he’d rather suffocate than break the kiss, the echo his moan would make in her mouth as she tried to swallow him whole.

Anticipation was the silent killer of man, and she’d be damned if she died waiting for him to touch her when they fought monsters on a weekly basis.

It takes a space shuttle one hundred and fifty seconds to leave earth’s atmosphere, and Mulder had spent the same amount of time still planted on her skin of her inner thigh, gently bumping against her pubic mound while kissing her sweetly.

“I’m ready,” she whispered against his mouth.

He took himself in his hand and guided himself to her entrance, asking permission he’d already had for longer than she could even remember.

Fast was how she fell for him. A rainy night in the graveyard cementing her love and, little did she know, her life. Every moment and every second since just rapidly adding to the affection that just continued to grow at an unimaginable rate.

Fast was the racing of her heart whenever he touched her like this, when ever he looked at her. Her pulse so high it was a constant strum she was sure he could see in her neck. The way her knees shook and her palms sweat at the simple utterance of her name in that sensual baritone.

He eased into her inch by inch, eyes scanning her face to make sure she was comfortable. When he was fully in her, they took a moment to breath as time stood still.

Mulder and Scully. Scully and Mulder.

The only two variables that would never change.

He started a slow pumping in and out of her, restraint evident in the furrow of his brow. She wrapped her legs around his waist and encouraged him with a single word.


They didn’t need to go slow anymore.

And they never did.

Chapter Text

She felt like she was freezing every second of everyday. As if with every pound the cancer took away from her, her body temperature dropped a degree. Ten pounds, ten degrees. She knew that was scientifically impossible, but it was easy to fill herself with the theory being she was hollow. There was plenty of space now.

She used to have a heart that would race in excitement, blood that would pump so hard she could hear it in her ears, desire that would coil in her gut at a familiar baritone saying her name. Now there was nothingness, a bleak landscape she used to fill with hopes and dreams that were now unattainable.

She felt like she was dying.

She knew she was.

She couldn't even cry for herself anymore, the tears were probably frozen. She'd established a fortress of one. Her defensive barriers to frigid for anyone to possibly chip away.

All hail Dana Scully, the one and only Ice Queen.

She was so thin now, her bones felt like razor blades beneath her skin and she was more than ready to use them to cut whoever got too close. At least Mulder was used to pain by now. If he wasn't feeling it from the way she jumped away from his touch and the icy glare she sent his way at the slightest mention of the unwelcome guest in her body, she knew her words would. She was cold to him now. Sometimes he flinched at her callous comments as if she had burned him, a blush simmering on his cheeks as he tried to hide his impassioned response.

She resented him for being able to feel warmth.

What she wouldn't give to feel alive. Even for just one moment.

When she was in girl scouts, she learned how to make a fire. Rubbing objects together until the friction created sparks that eventually engulfed everything up in flames. When she was little she took pride in starting the fire for her family on camping trips, the warmth covering them all like a blanket as the heat kissed their skin and orange danced in their eyes. Later she sought the familiar intensity as she ignited a fire in the heath of her home, usually foreshadowing the passion she'd soon give herself.

She thought eventually ice might melt under enough friction, maybe the tips of her fingers would get at least a little wet if she rubbed that spot between parted legs with enough vigor. But the meds didn't allow it. She could rub until her fingers snapped and she'd never melt. There would be no spark. There would be no flames.

The closest thing she had was the red line that trickled down her upper lip, painting the portrait of a woman still alive.

At least for now.

Chapter Text

He didn't really even have time to dust the cobwebs off his flirting skills before he was trying to use them on Scully. He didn't even take the time to consider the possibility that maybe he shouldn't in the first place.

A suspect they'd apprehended was aggressive, he was angry, he was clearly an idiot. Mulder could think of any justification as to why someone could ever possibly say something so obviously, ludicrously wrong about Scully.

"Ugly fucking bitch."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little rough with the suspect as soon as the man shot the words at Scully like a dart of venom poised at her heart. Mulder was too busy to take out the dart before the poison spread, but now, as they were walking back to their car after handing the perp over, he could see she was infected. That the words ugly, fucking, and bitch were building a temporary home at the forefront of her mind.

His desire to say something, anything, was just so blinding, like looking into a light dead on and seeing the silhouette of the figure imprinted on everything you tried to look at afterwards.. Blink. The downward tug of her lip. Blink. The way she wasn't meeting his eye. Blink. Her little nonverbal responses to him. Blink. The way she tugged self consciously on her skirt. Blink. The subtle way she was trying to catch her side profile in reflective surfaces they passed. Blink. The way she was fixing her hair as if she was trying to hide herself. Blink. He needed to say something.

"I like your shirt," he blurted suddenly. Instantaneously embarrassed that that was the best he could do.

"Thanks," she mumbled, barely even paying him any attention.

No. His flirting skills were covered with dust when it came to girls at random bars with names found on coffee cups, as interchangeable as they were indistinguishable. His flirting skills for women with names like Scully, with eyes that pierced so intently they left scar tissue in their wake, were still new in the package, completely unwrapped, and sitting on the shelf of his mind.. Her desire to maintain a semblance of strict professionalism in their still-new partnership had him biting his tongue and keeping his thoughts to himself.

Had him fumbling over what he could possibly say in this moment to make sure she knew she was irrefutably stunning, distractingly sexy, without resulting in her slapping him.

"Your makeup looks really good. Um-not just today, it always looks really nice," he tried again.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" she asked in exasperation.

"Complimenting you."


She wasn't going to let this go. She'd been avoiding looking at him before, but now that she was he could see hurt manifesting as anger and he was the nearest target. Deciding not to beat around the bush, he stated, "That guy was an asshole. A piece of shit in every sense of the word who clearly has been skipping out on his optometrist appointments."

"What he said didn't bother me, Mulder," she balked, as if it was ridiculous of him to even think she cared. Yet, he hadn't even had to specify what he was referring to.

"You seem a little bothered," he instigated, hoping maybe she'd open up to him. Personal moments with her were rare, her unwavering professionality making him work for them. Details of her privacy were as hard to earn as her trust.

"Well, I can assure you that I am not," she stated confidently, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stood next to the car.

Maybe they wouldn't take another step towards a personal relationship today, but it wouldn't stop him from trying one last time. "Well that good. It'd make me sad if you didn't recognize your own beauty. I get to enjoy it everyday." He punctuated the bold claim to let her know he was (not) kidding. Letting her have an out from the overt flirtation of his comment by allowing her to consider it a joke.

She took the out with both hands and laughed heartily before rolling her eyes as she slid into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Mulder," she exaggerated, hiding her sincere appreciation behind a joke just like he did. Partners through and through.

He took one glance over and noticed she looked even more beautiful when her cheeks were tinted pink.

Maybe they took a little step after all.

Chapter Text

There is no greater allusion to rebirth and new beginnings as the connotations of a sunrise. Authors run out of pages before the figure out how to perfectly describe the beauty, painters can mix until their brushes break and they will never have enough colors for an accurate portrait, poets stress line by line over

how does one portray 

the nothingness of night

being shattered by the light of a new day,

the beauty rekindling the will to fight

that the darkness had almost snuffed away

No elementary rhyme could remind someone how the fragility of something so absolutely gorgeous that it has the tendency to steal the very breath out of the lungs as the body freezes, awe-struck by appreciation. 

Only the unimaginable could be reminiscent of the unimaginable.

Nowadays, every morning he felt her leg slide over his, spreading her warmth throughout his body. Just like that very first time she had when he thought he’d never feel anything other than the empty comfort of his own hand and the bittersweet taste of we’re just partners on his tongue. Even the words I love you couldn’t keep him from the clutches of night assuring him that surely it can’t happen again. That something so inspiring and meaningful couldn’t possibly be a cyclical nonoccurence.

There was always nothing that became something when he saw that first strand of auburn flit over his face. It was always accompanied by hues of a similar passion; the crimson of flushed cheeks, the scarlet of bitten lips, the pink of swollen sex, the fading vermilion of tight grasps on skin, trying to keep the moment from turning into a memory.

It started off soft until all he could look at was the sight above him, kindling of something great, of more to come that made him feel like he was about to burst. If he took his eyes off her, the darkness of night would still linger in the room, it would never fully disappear. but when he looked at her and felt what made him feel, nothing else mattered.

Their breaths would falter as their bodies froze, shuddering at experiencing something so spectacular. Every cell in their bodies awake and tingling, the beating of their hearts aligning into a complimentary song that could rival the singling of birds.

The alarm going off would point out to him that it was morning. The sun was bright, the day had begun, Scully was out of bed and he’d need to follow soon.

For the rest of the day, he’d remember that hazy sliver of time where only what was important mattered, and he’d spend all night hoping he could ever feel so alive again. 

He hoped it would come again tomorrow.


It always would.

Chapter Text

“Y-you thought about it?” The words clung to his lips lightly before coming out all the way. As if they themselves knew he didn’t actually want to know the answer to that question. His palms felt sweaty. His knees felt weak. The world seemed a little crueler than it had a moment ago.

“Mulder, I didn’t want to start anything. I just don’t want you throw this away,” Scully stammered, embarrassed by her own impulsive confession.

They’d been packing up their belongings so they could move into their new house. Not that they needed to do much of the work, their apartments had long ago been declared uninhabited. Mulder didn’t realize the intense sentimental value he threw into the donation pile until Scully yelled “No!” and grabbed out an old, striped-blue shirt and clutched it to her chest. He wouldn’t have thought much of it if it wasn’t for the tone in her voice when she said ‘no.’ And, as always, he couldn’t let it go.

Curiosity killed the cat, so what did it do to the Fox?

Gave him answers he wasn’t ready to hear. That’s what.

He wore that blue shirt to work when he wanted to look business casual.

She wore it as a lifeline when she laid in his bed and wanted to kill herself.

“You-Did you try?” Part of him wanted to sew his mouth shut to stop himself from asking these questions. God, he needed to sit down.

“No, Mulder,” she pacified with vulnerable anger, sorting through boxes as if she had a vendetta against him while making sure the fabric that started all of this was securely tucked away. “I just laid in your bed, clung to that shirt like if I held it tight enough, you’d materialize in it, and when you didn’t-” she paused, swallowing hard. “I thought you were dead, and I wanted to be too.”

He felt frozen to the spot. Bombarded with imagery he never wanted to see.

Scully with her gun to her head. Scully choosing what support beam was strongest. Dana Scully, medical doctor, using her degree to choose a vein on her wrist, a prescription high enough to be painless. Maybe she wanted the pain.Maybe pain wouldn’t have been different from what she was already feeling.

Apparently these were private moments she wanted to keep in the past. As if telling him was as intimate as reading from her diary. It was. “I just-I just-I missed you. So, so much it was unbearable,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. She stopped moving the boxes, overcome with emotion, and he took it as an opportunity to swoop in and bring her into a hug. He was relieved to feel her arms come up around his back.

“I’ve thought about it too,” he whispered into her hair. He felt her tense under his touch before soothing him with her own. He knew she was uncomfortable and didn’t want her to think she was alone or that he thought of her any differently.

They were silent for a moment before he felt as much as heard her ask, “When?”

“A few years after Samantha. I thought about it, I got pretty close too, but,” he shrugged.


“I hadn’t learned it’s physically impossible to drown yourself yet,” he replied with a morbid laugh.

Her eyes darted up to meet his and he wondered if it was possible to drown in her tears. “You tried?”

failed.” he emphasized. It didn’t give her much solace, her lip just quivered and she clung to him like a life raft.

“Wait, how long after Samantha-”

“I was fourteen.”

They both stood there for a moment completely silent, the only sound in the room being her sniffles against his shirt. The weight of the knowledge that they may have never been together because of their own hands hung heavily in the air.

“Then I thought about it when you were abducted. I just thought you were gone forever and it was my fault-”

She cut him off with a gentle shushing sound as she grabbed his face in her palms, forcing him to look down at her. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m here and I’m never going to leave you.”

“Neither will I,” he repeated with sincerity.

 She decided she didn’t need to hang onto the shirt after all. 

She had something better.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of factors playing into how this situation managed to escalate. 

- 2 cold agents seeking warmth.

- 1 large old blanket that needed to be shared.

- 3 movies into a marathon.

- 12 hours of a workday weighing down their inhibitions.

- 8 inches of a longstanding curiosity throbbing against her lower belly.

- 2 unconstrained breasts smashing into his chest, nipples straining.

Take 1 suggestion from Mulder to use his body as a pillow, marinate until they’re melted together, laying flat on the expanse of the sofa.

Throw in a heaping spoonful of unrepentant sexual tension, and the results were Scully letting her full weight rest flush on top of Mulder’s body while they both silently begged the other to make a move.

She could tell he was holding his breath in an attempt not to disturb her, because when he gave in the expansion of his chest lifted her whole body up lightly. Even though no one had touched the remote, the volume of the movie felt muted, as if even the sound particles had paused to see what would happen next.

His offering of his body as a pillow was innocent enough, she just scooted over to him, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes in blissful contentment. She pretended not to notice the way he inhaled her hair at the crown of her head much in the same way he didn’t comment on how her hand was idly tracing patterns on the fabric of his jeans. 

What he did notice was her sleepy yawn, rectifying the issue by sliding his weight down the couch and tugging on her to follow. Retrospectively, she was the one who pushed it farther than they usually went, but it was a misunderstanding. 

Instead of laying next to him so he could spoon her, she draped herself over him. It was when she rested her weight on her forearms that she looked down through the curtain of hair to see his face littered with surprise. She couldn’t back down now, so she grabbed the blanket, draped it over herself, and covered his body with her own.

It pissed her off how natural it felt. 

Her cold feet were right against his calves and she couldn’t help but stroke them up and down his shins, stealing his warmth. She turned her head to the TV to watch the movie she couldn’t care less about as she placed her hands on his chest. She could hear his heart beating rapidly against her ear and she hoped he couldn’t feel her smile.

She was a little askew on him, so she moved herself by shifting on her waist. He gasped lightly and she felt what she’d assumed was his wallet turn into a full blown erection.

She could feel it pressing against her just as intensely as she felt his anticipation of her rejection. Her disgust. Her reprimand. All things he would never receive. To comfort him, she nuzzled her cheek against the warmth of his t-shirt and she silently rejoiced when his arms encircled around her back, underneath the blanket, underneath the thin material of her shirt, so that he could rub soothing circles into the flesh of her back.

This was a lot of touching. A lot for partners, a lot for friends, and a lot for two individuals who still blushed if their hands grazed each other while reaching for a file.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

She was so comfortable in his arms that she tried to burrow into him more, shifting her hips against his in a more than suggestive manner. In response, his hand dipped a little lower, coming to rest on her lower back just above her tattoo. His hand remained firm as he shifted his own weight, moving his hard on lower so that it was pressed firmly against her pubic mound.

She gasped and her hips bucked inadvertently against him, her body desperate for the contact it was always deprived of. There was no way for that last movement to be disguised as her adjusting to the position and they both stilled, waiting for the other to break the spell.

Her heart leapt in her chest when she felt his pinky exploratorily dip underneath the waistband of her pyjamas, touching the supple skin of her bare ass. He was making the first move. She didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful or that she wanted him to stop so she unabashedly spread her legs a bit more so they came to rest on either side of his hipbones and so that she could press her throbbing sex fully on top of his. The movement made Mulder’s hand slip into her pants fully as he palmed her ass in one hand, pressing her even harder against him. God, she’d never felt so good in her entire life.


His hand shot out of her pants as she sat upright, inadvertently rocking her weight right on top of him. With hooded eyes she tried to make sense of the sound before realizing they’d ordered Chinese an hour ago. She also realized her lip hurt from biting it and her shirt was bunched up under her breasts.

She quickly pulled it down and moved her weight to her knees. “It’s the delivery m-” the husky sentence died on her lips when she looked down to see Mulder staring at her with a look of pure, animalistic lust. His eyes were raking over her body with a black intensity and he looked like he wanted to ravish her. She was sure she looked about the same if the trail of arousal coating her inner thighs was any indicator.

She was getting frisky with Mulder on her sofa like a horny teenager.

The shock made her bolt off of him and she tried her hardest not to focus on the way his cock strained prominently against the front of his pants, which just so happened to have a wet spot on them. From him or her, she didn’t know. What would have happened if the door bell hadn’t rang?

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologized, though she wasn’t sure what for. 


I have to get that,” she whispered while backing up.

When she came back, Mulder had rushed to the bathroom. The couch still indented from their heavy petting.

Chapter Text

"Tell me what to do," she rasped in between bruising kisses. The buttons of her blouse bursting open while her skirt inched higher and higher, making her once professional outfit look anything but as she squirmed on his lap.

His brain was already having a hard time keeping up while all his blood rushed to a more pressing part of his body, so he didn't catch onto her implication. Instead, he naively replied, "Keep going," grabbing a handful of her ass to pull her closer to him.

He'd had a swollen lip captured between his teeth before she pulled away to look through the haze of lust into his eyes. "N-no, tell me what you want me to do," she panted.

It was the look of vulnerable trust, the flush of her cheeks and the quiver of her voice, that keyed him in on what she actually doing and he swore his cock couldn't get any harder. Scully wanted him to order her around. He didn't even do that on a normal basis let alone when they were in bed. His head swam with years of fantasies that had the potential to become reality with a simple command. "A-are you sure?" he asked, trying to maintain focus while she idly rocked against his erection.

She bent in for a kiss, but instead of letting her lips press to his, she stopped a millimeter short and whispered, "I'll do anything you want."

A shudder ran through his body as he digested her words. He'd never done this before and he didn't know how to start, so he went with something simple. Clearing his throat in an attempt to pull off the domineering voice he assumed she wanted, he stated, "Strip."

He expected some sort of natural rejection to him making her do anything. A roll of her eyes, a laugh at his stupid waste of a command, a 'that's not what I meant Mulder', - but instead she immediately got off his lap and did just as he told her. Maintaining eye contact with him the entire time, she fearlessly removed the rest of her crumpled shirt before sliding her skirt down her toned legs. He barely had any time to process what was happening with all the new flesh being revealed to him, and then he remembered what she'd said, so he decided to test it out. As her hands reached behind her, he commanded, "Slowly."

Then just like that, her movements slowed so that he got to enjoy every second of her revealing her breasts like a frame-by-frame playback. The straps sliding off her creamy shoulders, the way her breasts fell lightly once released from the confines of the cups, how her nipples puckered when exposed to the cool night air of his apartment. She tangled the bra tauntingly between her fingers until it fell to the floor with a muffled thud.

This was like a choose your own adventure porn game with the woman of his fantasies and he couldn't help but stroke himself through his jeans while he watched her. Noticing his appreciation, a coy smile broke out on her face and she languidly hooked her thumbs under the elastic of her black panties. "Turn around," he stated without even thinking.

Another smirk tugged on her lips but she complied without a word. Turning around, she made a show of his request. Rocking her hips teasingly as she bent herself over and dragged her panties down her legs inch by inch, raising one foot at a time slowly to step out of the quickly forgotten garment. From this angle, he could see her arousal coating her swollen pink labia lips, so much so that it was running onto the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. She must have heard his appreciation because, instead of standing back upright, she reached her hands around behind her and spread herself open, revealing absolutely everything to him. His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head at the erotic overload and he deftly stood up and pulled his erection out of his pants. He could see she was just as ready as he was and he was about to take a step forward to plunge himself into her when a better idea rose to mind.

"I want you to back up onto me," he commanded, whipping his shirt off so he was naked with her. She looked over her shoulder at him with a look of pure animalistic lust as she stepped back. Always one to follow the rules, she did verbatim what he asked. She didn't let her hands wander to help guide him to her entrance, instead she let her hips undulate inch by inch as the tip of his cock rubbed all over her folds and ultimately lined them up.

As soon as they were ready, she eased herself back onto him, letting him sheath himself in her warmth.

"Ride me like this."

A moan left Scully's lips as she started using her momentum to rock against him, fucking him while he watched the flesh of her ass shake with each powerful impact. God, never in his wildest dreams would he have imaged Scully letting him do this, let alone that she got off on it. And that was one thing he was sure of: this was inexplicably turning Scully on. He could tell from the way she was dripping with arousal and from the frantic, near desperate nature of her movements only minutes after he entered her. Scully liked being told what to do. Did she like being submissive? Did she like him being dominant? He wasn't quite sure, but he sure as hell wanted to figure it out. Figuring he knew damn well Scully'd tell him if he did something she didn't like - he decided to explore her boundaries by stroking her scalp from the nape of her neck to the back of her head with his fingers before grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back.

Oh, she liked it.

An uncharacteristically husky moan ripped loudly from her throat as her hips started squirming against his with every downward thrust. Mulder thought it was impossible to become anymore enamoured with this woman than he already was, but of course Scully would always manage to find a way to prove him wrong. "You like that?" he asked, using his other hand to grab at her hip, bucking into her like a madman.

"Mhm," she whimpered in pleasure.

"Tell me."

"I love it," she groaned, looking over her shoulder to look at him, her eyes glazed over from the anticipation of her oncoming orgasm.

He let his hand slide out of her hair to grab her jawbone, tugging her face backwards as he leaned forward to press a rough kiss to her lips, a kiss she met back with equal passion and vigor. He broke the kiss early and was rewarded with a strand of their mixed saliva snapping back onto his chin. He released her jaw, but kept his hands on her, moving to grab the bend of her elbows with both of his hands bringing her arms behind her slightly.

"Ohmygod," she mewled, grounding down on her heels so she didn't slide on the floor from the impact of his thrusts.

Then in a moment of bold arrogance, he requested one last demand. "Come."

And in Scully's endless loyalty, she did. Hard. "Fuck!" she cried as her walls clamped down around him, blinding him with his own orgasm. He pulled her closer to him so that her ass was flush with his pubic mound as he came in her as deeply as he could, enjoying the sensation of filling her up as she rode out her orgasm.

When they were both done and his breathing returned to normal, he started to fear that he'd gone a little too far. It was his first time doing something like this and he was worried he'd been blinded by excitement. He slid out of her, erotically enjoying the way some of his come dripped out of her as he did so, before letting go of her arms and bringing her up to a standing position, running his hands over her hair soothingly.

"Scully, I-" he started. Before the apology could fully form on his lips, she whirled around and looked at him with adoration before kissing him lovingly.

She broke away and beamed, "Mulder, that was… wow."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked.

Now she rolled her eyes at him and laughed lightly. "I said 'anything' didn't I?"

Scully liked being dominated. Duly noted.

Chapter Text

As he brushed his teeth in the morning, he couldn’t help but notice a sharp pain on his back when he bent over to spit. Sharp little stings that had him standing up straight and turning around.

Seve-no, nin-no, ten maybe twelve marks adorned his back. They all started from the top of his shoulders down to the middle of his back. Lines? Stripes? They looked like tally marks and he reached a hand behind him to try and touch one.

Fuck, Mulder. Oh my god. Harder, harder, that’s i-oh. ohmygodohmygodohmygodfuckmefuckme. 

The sounds played in his head as if his finger was a needle and the marks were grooves of a vinyl and he was a record of Scully’s pleasure. Each set of four representing a different push over the edge.

I’ve never- not from that alone.

Please. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Jesus, you feel so good.

“I’m sorry about that,” a new song played. 

Raising her hands, Scully rubbed his back gently, intermittently placing kisses across his marred skin. He could see her from the reflection in the mirror, her ruffled hair, her sated smile, her apologetic eyes.

He turned around and wrapped his arms around her, noting that he’d left some marks of his own on the side of her neck. Bending down, he placed a light kiss to her lips and reveled in the fact he could do this now, that morning-Scully was now a frequent visitor in his life. “Don’t be, I love them.”

Chapter Text

For three years it had been a joke, something that -if mentioned- was done with so much disregard that she was sure he didn’t give it a passing thought.

Spooky Mulder.

Basement Dweller.




Terms she wouldn’t apply to him herself, but she was quickly realizing today that he did.

They were in a packed elevator when the six letter word usually only reserved for cheap, orange and black Halloween decorations was mumbled, laced with careless malice and aimed at the back of her unsuspecting partner’s head. She smirked up at him, expecting some casual banter about his ridiculous nickname when, instead of a smile, she saw him chewing on his cheek and looking at the ground like a dejected child.

I heard he’s a genius.”

“Yeah, aren’t most psychopaths?”

She whipped around to glare at whoever thought this was an appropriate conversation for a cramped elevator. What she saw was several pair of eyes looking back at her and just as many vicious sniggers. She didn’t know who said it, but she knew it was a sentiment that was shared among the group.

I heard they sent her down to keep him in check.”

“No fair. Do you think if I pretend to be on the verge of a mental breakdown the government will assign me a personal hot piece of ass?”

She was just about to whip around again when Mulder’s hand on the small of her back led her out of the opening elevator doors and into the hallway, a burst of laughter acting as a departing gift.

They’d reached their office door when she realized he wasn’t going to talk about what just happened. She was contemplating letting it go herself, not wanting to act as if it was anything that warranted attention, but he’d been so happy when she ran into him in the lobby. Jovial, talkative, flirty even. Now his shoulders where slumped and he was uncharacteristically quiet. He cared. She hadn’t thought he did, but the evidence was glaring in her face. Mulder’s feelings were hurt and she’d never felt such a sense of fierce protectiveness.

“They’re wrong you know,” she stammered, awkwardly breaking the silence with little regard for tact.

“Who’s wrong, Scully?” he deadpanned, giving her a subtle signal that he wanted to drop it. A signal she wasn’t going to take.

“Those people in the elevator. They-”

“Call me Spooky Mulder. They think I’m insane. A loser, someone who, at the prospect of getting respect, is a laughable joke,” he repeated as if reading off a slip of paper. She couldn’t help but think of his eidetic memory - every word probably burned into his brain like a brand and he could remember each syllable so vividly he knew the intonations by heart.

He looked like he was about to say more, but stopped when he looked at her for the first time since leaving the elevator. She was sure the hurt he was trying to repress was manifesting on her face instead. Mulder sighed in resignation and shrugged, “If I need to be the black sheep in order to make them comfortable in their complacency- I don’t really care. I’ll just resign to my fate of being the spooky guy in the basement.”

Scully stood in shock for a moment as she watched him sit down and boot up his computer. She honestly didn’t understand him sometimes. Last month she made a disparaging comment about her weight and he practically all but wrote her an ode in the middle of a gas station. “ How could you even say something like that Scully? I thought you were the voice of reason in our partnership. Not even I could believe in something as ridiculous as that.” Yet here he was tearing himself down in front of her with little regard.

She walked over to him and when he looked up and saw her approaching he was already on the defensive. “Scully, listen. It-”

She interrupted him by grabbing one of his hands in hers and placing her other hand on the side of his cheek, drawing his attention to her and halting his words in his throat. “Mulder, you’re more than that. So much more.”

Mulder let out a breathy, nervous laugh and she knew him well enough by now to know he was going to laugh it off. She wasn’t done. “You’re brilliant, on a level your peers couldn’t even begin to understand. Hell, your case findings are studied at Quantico as part of the curriculum for Criminal Profiling,” she praised.

Mulder’s cheeks started to flush under the attention and, as much as she wanted to rejoice in this momentous occasion, she didn’t want to embarrass him. She stroked his cheek with her thumb one final time before letting it fall away. “You are the sweetest man I have ever met, and the depths of your loyalty astound me.”

A small smile quirked on his lips and she knew she’d reached him, at least a little. “I want you to remember all that the next time someone calls you that ridiculous nickname,” she demanded, squeezing his hand for emphasis before making her way over to her chair to set up her stuff.

“The same goes for you, you know?” he stated quietly.

“I’m the sweetest man you’ve ever met?” she teased to break the seriousness of the room.

He laughed lightly before rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “N-no, um, you’re more than what they said you were too.”

“Wha-oh, I’m more than just your personal hot piece of ass?” she replied with a cocked eyebrow and an amused smirk.

“Yeah. Well, I mean-I don’t- I’d never say that’s what you are. I mean, I’d never talk about you like that-not that I don’t think you’re attractive, um,” he stammered, clearly to overwhelmed by the sentiments she’d thrown at him to find his usual eloquence.

“You’re my partner, not some spy sent to personally ruin me. You’re as much a part of the X-Files as I am,” he said honestly. She stared at him with stunned surprise. That was a heavy claim and she could tell he meant it.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she smiled, touched.

“No. Thank you , Scully.”

Chapter Text

The harsh burn of the vodka sliding down his throat reminded him why he didn't like to drink. As he slammed the shot glass down on the table and was met with the sight of Scully dancing in the arms of some lab geek, he was reminded of why he was right now.

He didn't mean to seem possessive, she just looked so beautiful and she was so radiant when they drove here that he started to hope maybe he'd get to experience all 100 watts of Scully brilliance directed at him.

But no. James, or whatever the hell his name is, decided that tonight was the night he was going to make his move on Scully. He'd chuckled until she smiled and accepted his offer to dance, leaving Mulder to watch sullenly at the table. That was twenty five minutes ago.

At first he was sure she'd find a way to escape, but as soon as the fear crept into his chest that maybe she didn't want to, he claimed a table in the corner and took a shot every time the waiter came by with a tray. Not only did he have to sit there and watch the one reason he came to this office event have a great time in front of him, the entire can secretary staff wouldn't leave him alone.

"I'm a little busy, Jan."

"No, Sarah, I haven't ever seen a Chupacabra with my own eyes."

"No, Agent Scully and I are not divorced because we've never been married because we've never dated because we aren't together."

"No, Mark, I don't bat for that team. Yes, you'll be the first to know when I change my mind."

He barely paid attention to half the conversations because his attention was too focused on the silky expanse of Scully's back, revealed by the low cutline of her halter dress, and the tan hand resting in the center of it - dangerously close to his spot.

Mulder shook the thoughts out as soon as they came. She was having fun. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Scully wouldn't do something she didn't want to do, which is probably why he'd been so ecstatic when she said yes after he asked her to come to this thing with him. Well, he'd asked her to carpool, but he felt like his intention was clear.

God, he's an idiot.

He played with the rim of his beer as he thought of all the other ways he could have finally asked Scully out on a date that better encompassed his feelings instead of "I can give you a ride to the Veteran's Banquet."

Fuck. He didn't even actually ask her. All he'd managed to do was give her a ride to canoodle with this geek who looks like he'd barely hit puberty.

"Hey, sorry about that," he heard a familiar breathless voice apologize.

He glanced up from his bottle and was met with Scully pulling up a chair right next to him, taking the beer from in front of him and taking a drink herself. He was temporarily mesmerized by the way her throat moved as she drank before realizing he was supposed to respond. "Shouldn't you be with him?" he teased, pointing to the man she'd just gotten done dancing with.

Her eyebrows raised lightly at him, chastising him ever so slightly as she grabbed his wrist with her small hand and pulled it back down onto the table. "Mulder," she admonished with a laugh. "Don't point at him, I just escaped."

"Escaped?" he repeated.

She grabbed his beer again and threw it back, finishing it off like it was water. "He wouldn't stop talking to me. I felt bad," she explained, looking down and adjusting the bust line of her dress, making sure she was covered, er, maybe? When she was done they looked pushed up a little more and the amount of effort it took him to remove his stare reminded him that he'd had a few more than a few while she was gone.

When he did look up, he saw she was staring at him with a look of surprise, shock, and -maybe it was the alcohol thinking this but- pride? He was sober enough to know he didn't want to be caught in a leer, so he asked, "Felt bad for what?"

"Mulder, he asked if I wanted to dance with him and you actually laughed in his face."

"I did not," he exaggerated, his mouth gaping a little in mock-surprise.

"Okay," she chuckled, "Laughing may have been too strong of a word, but you definitely made an incredulous sound and I didn't want to dash the kid's hopes. I have to be on good terms with the lab geeks, why else do you think we get our results back so fast?"

Through his buzz, he felt a little ridiculous for reacting irrationally. "I missed you," he told her, looking at the table cloth instead of at her.

"Mulder, you've been drinking tonight, haven't you?" she asked with amusement lacing her voice.

He pointed at the drink she'd stolen from him and she added, "More than just this."

"I in-dulged a little," he stammered.

"Why?" She asked. "You don't drink." He shrugged and felt her lean closer to him, "Mulder, were you jealous?"

He was curious if being drunk made him an open book or if Scully just knew him that well. He'd like to think the former, he knew it was the latter. Looking up at her, he was taken aback at how beautiful she looked and how close she was. Her skin was flawless and her eyes were accentuated by makeup and he swore her talents were limitless. He focused on a curled tendril before returning his attention back to her cerulean eyes. Trying to match her intensity, but knowing he was just doing a poor, drunken imitation. "Yes."

She looked down as a smile broke out on her face and he felt like the luckiest man in the entire world for putting it there. James may have gotten a dance, but he got this and he didn't know if anything could be better.

"Mulder, I only came because I wanted to be with you," she whispered, reaching out to hold his hand.

Okay, maybe it could get better.

Chapter Text

She didn't have a chance. He knew exactly what she wanted when he realized he couldn't feel any panties underneath her skirt as he touched her hip.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled as he placed sloppy wet kisses to her cheek. She was sitting on the dinner table, the meal he'd prepared long abandoned as he worked his thumb against her clit. Her skirt was bunched up on her waist to reveal she had indeed foregone wearing underwear. A fact that turned her sweet boyfriend into a wild animal.

"Y-yes," she whispered, all but rocking back and forth on her ass to build as much friction as possible.

"Yeah, that's right," he chuckled into the shell of her ear. "Fuck my hand like you wanted to when you decided to come over here commando."

His breath was hot against her neck and it made her whole body pulsate with need. She reached up and gripped his shoulders like a lifeline while she squirmed more.

His thumb circled her relentlessly and she could feel his own arousal pressing into her inner thigh, occasionally bucking against her to find relief. "Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are? Sometimes I think about how wet you get and how fucking tight you are and I have to resist the urge to come."

"Oh my god," she mumbled almost incoherently. She didn't exactly know why hearing Mulder talk like this got her off, but fuck was he good at it.

He moved away from her ear and pressed a sensuous kiss against her cheek. "Come for me baby. Let me make you feel good."

Distantly she heard the sound of a dish shattering, but all she could focus on was riding out her orgasm, squeezing Mulder's forearm between her thighs and trapping him there as if it could keep them in this moment forever.

Her breathing was heavy as she tried to regain her senses, the only thing anchoring her being the gentle kisses Mulder was littering over her face. "Did I tell you I really like your outfit?" he laughed against her.

Chapter Text

It was the first time they’d been alone. Alone alone, not the awkward car ride of silence through the busy streets on the way here. Mulder could tell when she slammed the car door and stormed up to her apartment that she was angry. The way she nearly took his hand off trying to slam the door to her apartment told him he was the target of her fury.

Good. He wanted her to be mad, maybe she could reach his level.

He’d always hated cases that put Scully in any sort of danger, but he hated it more when she didn’t seem to care about her own safety. Tonight being the worst case of that he’d ever seen.

The VCU needed help catching a serial rapist and strangler, and apparently out of the whole damn bureau, Scully was the only one who fit his M.O. Short, thin, redhead, blue eyes, even down to the damn length of her hair. She was perfect.

Much to his own agitation.

He could tell she felt insulted when he insisted he be put on the case too, taking it as a sign he didn’t think she could handle herself. That wasn’t the case at all, he was just worried. Which she proved herself - he had a right to be.

The VCU wanted her to dress promiscuously and told her that none of the previous victims had a bag with them. Which effectively meant there was no room for her to carry a weapon.

Long story short, Scully - with no real means of protecting herself - followed him outside the back of the building by herself. The VCU caught him before anything happened, something Scully insisted she was certain would happen, but for that ninety seconds of not having her in anyone’s eyeline or earshot, he was certain he was going to go outside and find her dead body, or worse.

The VCU applauded her and thanked her while he brooded. He was furious, she knew that, and when he snapped that she was lucky she didn’t get herself killed, he got a short, clipped “I knew what I was doing.”

The rest of the car ride was tense with the bomb they both knew was about to go off.

Slamming the door behind him, he stalked after her into her apartment. “That was the most reckless thing you have ever done, Scully. Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, you run off on your own all the time,” she seethed immediately, without a doubt replaying every time he’d put himself in danger while she planned her responses to this argument during the car ride.

“Not when I’m being used as a decoy without any weapons on me.”

“I could have handled myself just fine Mulder. I’m a trained FBI Agent, or are you forgetting that?” she spat, kicking her shoes off and taking out the hanging earring she had to wear, slamming them down on her table.

“Of course I’m not Scully, but training doesn’t matter if he takes you off guard,” he lamented.

“I know how-”

“You know how to get out. I know you know how, but in case you haven’t noticed, you’re short, thin, and small. The suspect was bigger than you, he gets ahold of you and you’re out until he lets you out - which most likely would have been after he’d assaulted and killed you.”

“Is that what this is about? It doesn’t matter when you endanger yourself because you’re a big macho man,” she explained with exaggerated gestures. “I’m a woman, so I’m just a weakling. Is that how you see me? Am I just a liability to you?”

The fact she could ever think he considered her a liability in anyway pissed him off. “Of course I don’t Scully, but-”

“But nothing. I knew the VCU was on my ass. I knew if I went out, he would follow and they’d catch him,” she repeated, voice rising with each step she took towards him.

“And what if the club was too busy? What if they lost sight of you and only heard your distress? What-”

“I’d say you have a pretty low opinion of the capabilities of a team you used to work on,” she snapped.

“If there had been even one problem, something easily could have happened.”

“I would have been fine,” she repeated again, the rolling of her eyes that usually endeared him just acting as a slap in the face.

“You can’t be certain-”

“Shut up, Mulder. You can’t be certain-”

They say people’s worry and fear often manifests as anger. That’s the only excuse he had for what he did next. He just wanted her to be more careful and she wasn’t getting it.

She was standing in front of him, so engrossed in their fight that he knew she would be too stunned to initially react. Using one of his feet, he quickly hooked it behind her achilles heel and yanked it from out under her, sending her falling to the floor. However, instead of letting her fall completely, he grabbed her arms and twirled her around so that she fell onto his back, giving him the position to wrap his arms around her like a straight jacket. “Mulder, what the fuck do you mphf,” she was cut off as he raised a hand to cover her mouth.

“You were distracted,” he said without any joy at being proven right.

He used one of his legs to prevent her from getting proper footing as he dropped to the ground gently with her, placing his knees so that he was straddling her legs to prevent her from kicking him as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head.

As he looked down, he saw her eyes shining bright with fury as he was sure she saw sadness reflected in his. “Get up,” he prompted.

He saw her upper body move up with the force of her attempt to life her hands while his remained in place without any effect. He felt her squirming her legs underneath him, violently trying to buck him off with the only accomplishment being that the bottom of her dress was rising up, her chest straining against her low cut shirt with each twist. If he was the predator that’d been after her tonight, he had no doubts this would’ve turned him on and the thought made Mulder want to throw up.

“If he’d grabbed you like that - you’d be dead,” he growled, trying to choke back his tears.

“Fuck you, Mulder,” she seethed, gripping his hands so hard that her nails were digging into his skin.

The venom in her words stung and guilt washed over him. He released her hands and she immediately used her new mobility to scoot out from underneath his legs and raise herself into a sitting position. She was disheveled and he felt like an utter ass. “Scully, I’m-”

He was cut off by her hand slapping him hard across the face. He turned back to her and saw her eyes were wet with fury. “If you ever use your size against me like that, even if it’s just to prove a point, you will never see me again. That’s a promise,” her voice was shaking from her emotions and he fell to the side so he was sitting on his butt.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologized, no words he could think of coming close to capturing his regret.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” He was glad she wasn’t leaving, but part of him just wanted to run away so he wouldn’t have to look at the hurt on her face.

“I’m so sorr-”

“And don’t take that as a victory, Mulder. Your little demonstration didn’t prove anything. I was on high alert with the suspect and was in defense mode. You took me off guard because I didn’t think I would ever have to be with you,” she reprimanded.

“You don-”

“Even if the VCU fucked up, I knew you wouldn’t. I knew you would be watching me. You’re my partner and I trust that you have my back.” She stood up as she explained this, and she continued while adjusting her outfit.

Then, fixing him with the most intent gaze he’d ever seen, she stated, “Never make me question that again.”

He watched as she walked away, locking herself in the bathroom, as he picked himself up and took her hint to leave her alone. Something he should have done much sooner.

Chapter Text

They were at a pivotal point in their partnership where he felt like they considered each other friends. As juvenile as it sounded, he could confidently say she was the best friend he’d ever had, but being he was a grown man, the impulse to wonder if the intense sentiment was reciprocated felt innapropriate.

Regardless, he was still aware that even though they had saved each others lives more times than he could count, they were still slowly getting to know each other. He knew what time of the day she normally got hungry, he knew her favorite radio station, he knew she preferred Jeopardy to Wheel of Fortune, and he knew if he asked her what was wrong right now that he’d just recieve “I’m fine” as an answer. He guessed they weren’t there yet, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying. 

Scully came in to the office sad today. He wasn’t sure why, but he could see it in her demeanor. He caught her staring in the corner of the rooms a few times, but everytime he was about to say something, she’d return her gaze to her desk and resume writing a report that she’d been working on for hours. The same type of report she usually knocked out in thirty minutes. Not only was she distant, but she even looked different- her hair was haphazardly put in a bun and she was barely wearing any makeup. She looked beautiful, but he knew how much care she put into looking professional.

He was concerned to say the least.

It wasn’t until he returned from the bathroom and caught her with her head in her hands that he decided to speak up.

“You look like you could use a hug,” he laughed without humor - a genuine offer disguised as a joke.

She bolted upright and he saw her wipe away tears with the back of her hand and it broke his heart. “Scully, what’s w-”

“I’m fine,” she choked, but the quivering of her lip made the truth so obvious she couldn’t even fight it. Instead, she looked down again and offered a strained, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he soothed as he sat on the desk in front of her. “Don’t be sorry. What’s wrong?”

“I’m being ridiculous,” she sniffed, wiping her tears away with intense finality. Finality Mulder wasn’t ready to give her.

“You’ve been upset all day. I don’t know about you, but I most certainly don’t consider that to be ridiculous.”

She looked at him for a moment, pondering his words as he sat fixed under the intensity of her eyes. He knew she was contemplating if she wanted to expose her vulnerable side to him, something he knew she liked keeping under her aromor of self protection. He knew she valued her privacy so much that he felt his whole body jolt in relief when she started speaking. “I-um,” she started, looking down and picking at her nails to avoid his gaze. “Today’s the anniversary of my father’s death,” she finished, with her classic clinical detatchment to keep from crying.

“I just-,” she stammered. He could tell she was uncomfortable, it was the only time she ever lost her usual eloquience. “When I got in the car this morning, one of his favorite songs was playing and it just-” her face crumpled a little and he reached out to grab her hand in his own. 

“It felt like he was checking on you? Or that it was his way of saying hello?” he offered.

She nodded and sniffled at the same time. “I know it sounds stupid,” she rushed, punishing herself for what she deemed a childish indulgence. Part of him was worried that she was quick to judge because she was concerned he was judging her for finding comfort in her faith. That her finding solace in the idea her dad was still with her would make him think less of her. 

“Scully, it’s not stupid at all. We all look for signs. Who’s to say it wasn’t him saying hi? He probably knew you’d be upset today and wanted to give you a sign not to be,” he shrugged.

A tear ran down her cheek, but she was smiling. “You don’t even beleive in that type of stuff.”

“Not in the religious sense, but in the metaphysical sense, have you met me?” he joked.

She laughed in response and wiped the final tear away. “Thank you, Mulder.”

“You can always talk to me,” he smiled as he stood up.

Then, much to his surprise, she stood up with him and took him up on his initial offer, wrapping her arms around his torso tightly and burying her face in his chest. At first he was too surprised to react, then as a smile spread across his face, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the crown of her head.

As happy as he was to have given her any sense of comfort, he was even more happy that she’d given him the opportunity to. Just another moment he could feel their friendship growing. All he had to do was ignore the little voice in his head repeating I love you as he held her.

Chapter Text

He was nervous, that much was obvious. She found the whole idea a little ridiculous being he was just inside her no more than five minutes ago, but it was endearing nonetheless. 

He was laying next to her, their limbs just barely flush as they caught their breaths. She could tell from the longing looks Mulder was giving her exposed skin and the way his fingers where moving softly, but restlessly moving, that he wanted to reach out and get closer.

She wasn’t sure why he wasn’t.

Did he think she wasn’t satisfied? She knew he had a tendency to be self-deprecating, but she didn’t know how he could possibly fit that into this circumstance. She cried his name like he was a god every time he made her come. Every. Time. Plural. Her body was still getting used to that.

She couldn’t even entertain the idea that he didn’t enjoy himself because he practically wrote an Ode to Scully with his tongue on her body. 

Then it hit her, much in the same way it had when she took the initiative to shed her clothes and crawl into his bed. Mulder made sure everything they did was on her terms - he wanted this so much he wouldn’t push in fear she would run away. She was tired of running.

“Mulh-der,” she rapsed, her voice drunk from sex.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

She opened her arms to him, beckoning him to fall into her embrace, “Come cuddle.”

A bashful smile broke out on his face as he comically scooted closer, sliding his hand over her waist and curling into her. He rest her head on her naked breast and she could feel him relaxing against her as his thumbs idly felt her skin, as if making sure she was real.

She was tired of pretending that this wasn’t what she’d always wanted.

Chapter Text

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

They were on his couch after a night watching a sci-fi movie marathon. It’s your birthday, she’d cooed before crawling onto his lap and teasing him like it was her favorite past time.

Which, honestly, he was starting to think that it was.

She was riding him with so much intensity, he was sure her knees were going to be bruised in the morning, that when they got up from the couch, the leather would be cracked with a big wet spot on it. She was so close to him, so warm, so flushed, so Dana fucking Scully moaning with his dick shoved inside her that all he could do was try to meet her thrust for thrust and put off the inevitable orgasm that had been building since she touched him for the first time this evening.

God, everytime she was on a downstroke and she ended up fully on his lap, every part of his groin intimately coming in contact with hers, he felt like he was about to explode. Her thighs on either side of his hips, the tendons where their legs met her pubis straining with the effort of her movements, her pubic hair coming down to brush against his own, her wetness absolutely coating his lap. Not only that, but the only visual stimulation he had in this current moment was her pert breasts bouncing lewdly on her chest, which was flushed with arousal and littered with freckles, each one having been accounted for with a lick of his tongue since this thing they were doing all started.

“S-scully,” he whimpered, his head rolling back on the couch, a simple utterance that signaled he was close. So fucking close. If she just kept-

Then, without another word, she thrusted up so high that he slid out of her, his dick falling back to hit his stomach as she sat back on his mid-thigh and stayed there. He whimpered pathetically and he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so goddamned aroused. His body involuntarily bucked forward, phantomly trying to seek out the sensations he needed more than his next breath. “Not yet,” she said as if she wasn’t even affected by this - something which the dilations of her eyes and the arousal coating her thighs signalled to the contrary.

He pouted, but he couldn’t complain when she captured his lips with her own and sucked his soul out with a kiss. God he loves her, god he loves her, god he loves her. Everything about sexual Scully felt foreshadowed by the years he lived with Scully at work. The desire for control, her need to be right, her joy taken in being right - it was all reflected in moments like this.

She’d just started kissing his neck and his dick has just twitched from under her when he couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “P-please,” he whispered.

“Please what?” she asked, a smile so evident in her tone that she neednt take her mouth off his neck for him to be certain it was there.

“I need to-” he gasped as she undulated her hips on top of his, his cock brushing intimately against her folds.

“You need to what, Mulder?” she teased.

Fucking little minx.

I need to be inside you, Scully,” he whimpered. Then as she started arching away, he added, “Please.”

She was silent and he felt his whole body near-shaking as she rocked against him. Then, without warning, she plunged herself down on him and resumed her prior actions as if there had never been a break. A sheen of sweat had started to break out over her body, making her glow against the golden bulb of his lamp. He couldn’t help himself, he drew his arms around her back and brought her closer to him, then, opening his mouth, he placed his tongue in the middle of breasts and licked a trail all the way up to her neck.

“F-fuck, Mul-der,” she whispered, her moan broken up by the power of her own thrusts.

God, it was amazing the power she had over him. Just from that he could feel the tingling in his abdomen getting stronger, the need for release in his cock getting so intense he felt like every stroke was getting him closer and closer to-

Then she halted her movements entirely, clamping herself down on his lap so intently that she made it clear she wasn’t going to move. “Sc-sculeee,” he whined, not caring how pathetic he sounded. Ever cell in his body was screaming that he needed to come.

She didn’t seem to take any mercy on him. She just laughed and he desperately tried to get something out of the way her body shook with each chuckle. His lip was throbbing from biting it so hard and he was sure in a few years he’d have a wrinkle in the middle of his forehead from furrowing his brow so much at her sexual torture.

“Yes? Mulder?” she asked innocently, giving him a little relief by rocking her body once in his lap. He could feel every inch of his cock buried inside of her and it made him want to grab her hips, lift her up, and fuck her until they both screamed.

But he couldn’t. The orgams he had after enduring Scully’s cruel withholding always were the most powerful. She had full control of him, and, from the coy smile threatening to rip her face open, she knew that too.

“I want to come,” he begged, shutting his eyes as she rocked on his lap again.His hands had taken up residence on her ass and he was finding idle pleasure in kneading the meat there, pressing so he could feel her ass come in contact with his aching balls.

“Do you?” she teased, raising her hands to play with her own breasts.

“Yes, please, Scully,” he nodded, watching with rapt attention as her fingers pinched and pulled at her pebbled nipples.

“Hmmm,” she presented to muse, moving her hands to his shoulders and smiling wider at the way he perked up. “I suppose you have made me come three times already,” she added.

Then, again, without warning, she squeezed her thighs around him and started riding him again, her breasts in his face, and her little moans and pants of pleasure loud in his ear.

He grabbed her hips and started thrusting without abandon. He was pumping so hard he could feel her ass shaking with each impact. “Oh my god, Mulder,” she gasped, grabbing onto him.

She then maneuvered in his lap so, his hands were still on her hips, but they were facing each other and he could see himself slide in and out of her rapidly as she reclined back. “I want to feel you come inside me Mulder. Let go,” she demanded.

Her wish was his command and, at her words, he felt himself go over the edge, his cock expanding and releasing hot inside of her. His eyes clamped shut as he desperately went as deep in her as he could but, from the way her walls were spasming around him and milking him, he knew she was coming too.

His balls felt tight for a minute straight as he gave her everything he had to give. After the power of the orgasm, he felt like his whole body was vibrating and that his hearing was deafened by the beating of his own heart.

Mulder felt Scully’s own shaking start to calm down as she leaned forward and started littering his face with sweet little kisses and words of affirmation.

God, he loved this woman.

Chapter Text

“Did you do something?” she asked nervously, smoothing her skirt for the seventh time in the last three minutes.

“No,” he defended incrusuously before self-conciously adding, “I don’t think so.”




Both of you, my office. 9:30am.

That’s what they’d come into work to see. Scully immediately sent him a questioning look and he immediately tried to catalogue his actions this week.

“Well then what do you think this is about?” she whispered, glancing anxiously between Arelene and the closed doors with A.D. SKINNER printed on them.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, placing his hand on top of Scully’s to stop her from wearing a hole in her skirt.

“Good Morning, Agents. Thank you for coming,” Skinner’s booming voice greeted from the now open door. Mulder’s hand retracted like it was on fire and they both stood up anxious.

“Good morning-”

“Hey Skin man-” they spoke in unison.

Skinner just looked between them and sighed, gesturing for them to take their usual seats.

The anxiety didn’t diminish being in here. Skinner’s face looked flustered and his whatever they did was getting him that riled up, he knew they were in for a verbal lashing. “Sir, um. May I ask why you’ve called us in today? We’ve been performing quite well in the field this past month,” Scully started professionally.

Skinner raised his hand to stop her and spoke up, “This isn’t about your performance. The X-Files solve rate has been even better than before.” Before that bogus reassignment ordeal were the words unsaid.

“Oh, um,” Scully replied, at a loss. “Then why...” she trailed off, hoping he’d take over with an explanation.

He didn’t. Instead he took his glasses off and rubbed his hand over his face. “Sir, is everything okay?” Mulder asked, sending Scully a worried glance. “Are we getting shut down again?”

Skinner shook her head again, this time sitting up straighter in his seat. “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s uh-I’ve been put in an uncomfortable position.” He paused and neither of them made a move to speak, just waiting to be put out of their misery. “There’s been a complaint of unprofessionalism,” he sighed.

“Sir, Agent Mulder’s strategies may be unusual, but-” Scully started, immediately coming to his defense.

“It wasn’t just Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. The complaint was filed against you both,” he mumbled.

Scully’s face dropped in shock, and while he was glad he wasn’t the only one to inspire that expression, he probably looked the same. “Skinner, that’s ridiculous. Agent Scully is the textbook definition of professional.”

“Who filed this complaint?” Scully asked, clearly intending to give that poor fool a piece of their mind.

“We barely even interact with other agents for them to-”

“It wasn’t a fellow agent,” Skinner corrected. His face seemed to flush even more, much to Mulder’s confusion. They’d been reamed out so many times over the years, he honestly started to think the man enjoyed tormenting them.

“Sir, please. Just tell us what’s going on,” Scully demanded.

“Does last Friday ring a bell for either of you?” Skinner asked.

“It preceeded Saturday and suceeded Thursday,” Mulder joked, his laughter halting when he saw Scully’s face pale.

“Hilarious,” Skinner deadpanned. “Well, apparently a janitor went down to clean the office only to find the door locked.”

Mulder felt his own face pale as he remembered last Friday in vivid detail. He’d finally convinced Scully to reenact his office fantasy, and she’d gotten really into it. They’d been doing it more and more as of late since no one usually came down to the office. Or so they thought.

“Oh, um. The lock sticks sometimes,” Scully offered honestly.

“Yeah,” Skinner nodded. “The janitor thought about that too, so he used his key to get in.”

If there was such a thing as a pregnant pause, this was it. This pause was in it’s fifth trimester with ocuplets pregnant. They all just stared at each other in embarassed mortification.

“So you realize what it was he saw?” Skinner asked, clearing his throat.

“He saw,” Scully began carefully. “Something that was definitely an error of judgement and will most certainly never happen again on FBI property.”

Skinner nodded slowly and looked like his heart rate had started to return to normal. “Fantasic. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“We apologize for the discomfort we caused to everyone involved,” Mulder offered.

“I’ll make sure to let the janitor know the issue has been addressed, and I’ll make sure the complaint dissapears. You both are dismissed,” he proclaimed, shuffling some papers on his desk idly.

“Thank you, sir,” they said in unison, standing up and all but running to the door.

“Oh, and agents?” he called out. Waiting for them to face him until he spoke again. “Congratulations. I mean it.”

Chapter Text


They had to interview a little girl, probably around five or six, who had a very prominent lisp. While he wanted to reassure the girl that she'd grow out of it with a little help, that it's nothing to be upset about, he didn't want to make her think that it was a flaw that needed to be corrected. For a while he considered ignoring it, but the way the girl was obviously trying to avoid any words with the letter 's' and the way she'd look at the ground when she accidentally made a 'th' sound instead broke his heart. After hearing her mumble an apology for the umpteenth time this conversation, he had to say something.

"You don't have to apologize for the way you speak honey," he reassured in a gentle voice, leaning his head down in hopes of catching her eyes.

"It'th embaraththing," she frowned, brows furrowing.

"It's more common than you'd think," he promised. "Lisps sound different from person to person and they change as you get older."

"Really?" she asked, looking hopeful for the first time since they sat down.

"Yeah, lots of people have a lisp," he nodded, sitting up a bit. "My partner has a small lisp. Sometimes it's not there, but other times you can notice it just a tiny bit" he told her.

"The does?" The girl smiled, beside herself. She'd stared at Scully everytime they came to interview the family, smiling so wide her eyes squinted and making sure to wave from out the window as they left. She adored Scully, and this was the best news she could have heard.

"Mhm," he hummed with a smile. "Scully, can you say garage?"

There was a slight pause and he looked over to see Scully looking at him with an unreadable expression. "Garage," she repeated flatly.

"Did you hear that?" He asked the little girl. "Her lisp comes out through either an exaggerated 'sh' or 'zh' sound. Instead of hitting the second 'g' in that word she says 'gara-shh'. Sometimes it comes out when she says 'science' and a few other words," he explained.

"It'th very thoft," the girl nodded, agreeing with him.

"It's not like Holly Hunter or Barbara Walter where it comes out every time, but since I'm with her so much I notice it," he added.

"Do you teathe her?" the girl asked, playing with the hem of her sundress in her little fists.

"Never," he replied seriously. "And she's the smartest person I know, and everyone likes her. She never lets her lisp get in the way of anything." And she'd shoot him if he ever tried. From the forced smile that was on her face right now, he wasn't so sure he completely avoided getting in trouble anyway.

The conversation moved forward with ease since the girl took so much pride in having something in common with Scully. After an hour, they'd finished talking to the girl and her parents about the fires that'd been happening in their neighborhood. The girl gave them both big hugs before they left to get into their rental. "I think we should ask the fire department if they found anything strange in the ashes after the fires were put out," he said as he opened the car doors.

She hadn't answered him and he looked over to see she was waving sweetly back at the girl who had her face pressed against the glass. When her hand dropped she turned and saw Mulder staring at her, realizing he'd asked her a question. "Mhm," she hummed as an answer.

Little did he know these type of answers to his questions were going to be a recurring theme throughout the ride.

"Do you think the neighbors have anything to do with it?"


"Maybe it was a ritual gone wrong?"


"The sheriff said this happened back in 1987, ten years ago. Maybe there's a connection?"


He looked over at her and noticed she was looking at her feet and playing with her nails, a posture that was strikingly familiar. She almost looked like the little girl did when-

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Scully are you upset that I pointed out your lisp?" he asked, shock evident in his tone.

She was silent for a moment and he thought she might be giving him the silent treatment until she softly mumbled, "I didn't know I had a lisp."

He felt guilty and tried to do some damage control. "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure if it's necessarily categorized as a lisp. I just didn't want to say speech impediment and have her not understand."

"Oh, it's a speech impediment now?" she chuckled sardonically.


"You knew exactly what word to ask me. Is this something everyone knows about but me?" she asked. He was shocked at how upset she seemed to be and he didn't know what to say. Had seriously no one ever mentioned it to her? Her voice was one of his favorite things about her and her little affects were a huge component to that.

"Scully, all we do is talk to each other every day for hours for the past five years. I know your voice better than I probably know my own," he defended.

She didn't say anything in response and he decided to try his luck by saying, "Did I hurt your feelings? I didn't mean anything bad by it."

"Whatever. It's fine," she replied shortly.

"Why are you acting like me saying you have a lisp was me saying something's wrong with you when the exact opposite just so happens to be true!" he proclaimed, getting agitated from accidentally offending her.

"What?" she asked, not sounding as cold this time.

"I meant what I said to the girl. It's not very noticeable, I notice because I pay attention to you," he explained, trying to backtrack a little but still reassure her.

"No, what did you mean by 'the opposite just so happens to be true'?" she asked.


"No, what did you mean, come on," she persisted, nudging his elbow with her own.

He didn't want her to take his refusal to answer as evidence that he was 'hiding' something else he knew about her from herself, so with a deep breath, he simply stated, "It's um, it sounds good."

"My lisp sounds good?" she repeated and he realized how lame that sounded. He looked over and saw that same sentiment reflected on her face.

He went through his mental rolodex of words he could use to describe what he thought of her lisp while trying to decide which one wouldn't result in him getting punched or offending her further.

"It's…" Cute. Tantalizing. Hot. Invigorating.

She interrupted his search for a good word with an impatient "It's?"

It wasn't something he usually would have admitted to her, but he was backed into a corner.

"It's sexy."

There was a beat of awkward silence as he waited for her response. He waited for her to tell him that was unprofessional or tell him to pull over the car. However, when he glanced over to see if she was giving him a death glare, he instead saw she was failing at holding back a smile as she looked at her hands. He felt his entire body relax as he realized he'd finally done something right.

"Um, thank you, Mulder," she mumbled, obviously trying not to allow her smile to be audible through the words.

"Just telling the truth."

Chapter Text


Mulder wouldn't say no. She knew that for a fact. She was positive as soon as the request left her lips, he'd reply "I'll be there soon," undoubtedly arriving promptly with a smile and a desire to do whatever she needed of him.

Fuck, did she need him.

And that's precisely what was causing her hesitation. He'd always come. She'd never stay. She'd always end up with a body sated with residual pleasure she'd never quite experienced before in her life. He'd end up with a reverse strip-tease and a cold bed.

He never verbally told her how much he wanted her to stay, but she'd hear it in his sad utterance of "you're leaving?" or "you can stay, you know?" The words always twisted something in her chest, but she always had an excuse. As much as it hurt to hear him ask and have to reject him, it hurt more when she waited until he was nestled sound asleep against her breast and she had to extract herself to leave. The sad looks he'd give her the next day nearly killed her, so did his acceptance of it though because he feared calling her out would lead to this arrangement ending.

He was baring everything to her and she couldn't even spend the night. She'd slept next to him in countless rental cars in every state, in planes, and even on his couch, yet for some reason his bed was somehow too vulnerable. They'd now had sex maybe eight times, been as intimate as two humans possibly could be, and yet this little thing was causing a riff.

But that was just it. They'd shared so much of themselves with each other and the thought of giving herself wholly and entirely scared her. Even though it's what she wanted too.

She sighed and leaned her head back against her couch, idly running her thumb over the plastic buttons of her phone - always lingering for a moment on speed dial number one. She wanted this. She needed to stop fighting herself. It's not like they hadn't already reached the point of no return. She knew that damn much when she kissed him while he was trying to tuck her into bed that night. She was unabashedly and completely in love with her best friend.

If the fact he was always in the corner of her mind wasn't enough proof, the man currently was ruining masturbation for her. Ruining and masturbation, two words that should never be in the same sentence.

But tonight she layed down in her bed, horny from too much reminiscing about their last tryst, and her relief was like a cruel, unreachable toy dangling in front of her. Her fingers worked deftly in between her legs, but she kept thinking about how fantastic a much larger hand had felt there the other day, how he was able to cup her sex and play with her clit with the heel of his hand while his fingers plunged into her.

Even when she pulled out her dildo, she immediately thought about how it didn't have that little upward curve that Mulder had, the curve that made her toes curl. She thought about how it didn't pulse inside her like Mulder, or how it didn't have a beautiful, sexy male body attatched to it. God she wanted him.

And that was it. She wanted him and she knew she could have him, but after being with Mulder, the fantasies felt insultingly lack luster. She came once, sure, but it wasn't the same without the appraisal of "fuck, Scully," following it.

And she was still horny.

She'd masturbated to the thought of him more times than she's proud of in the past seven years and the fantasies had always left her breathless and spent, but now she had something better. Mulder made her orgasms better, he made her work life better, he made her happier than she'd been in a long time.

Who was she to worry about whether or not he'd make her life better when he'd given her seven years' worth of evidence and proof?

With a big intake of breath, she pressed one and then dial, listening to the ringing as she let the breath out. "Hey Scully, what's up?" his eager voice called out from the reciever pressed to her ear.

"Hey, um. What are you doing tonight?" she asked, playing with the frayed ends of her sofa simultaneously glad he couldn't see her nervous habits.

"Why? Miss me?" he teased.

"Yes," she answered honestly, hoping that her heart wasn't going to beat out of her chest. This must've been how he felt everytime he tried to get her to stay and it made her regret every time she didn't crawl back under the covers and nestle into his arms.

He seemed surprised, but not unpleasantly, at her reply. "I miss you too," he replied, accepting her honesty and matching it with his own.

"If you're up to it, I was hoping we could have a repeat Sunday night?" she asked. It still felt foreign, being able to refer to them having sex. Their sex life.

"Oh I see, you just want me for my body," he joked, much like he joked Monday morning while his eyes were screaming I thought you were going to stay that time. Why do you always leave?

"I won't deny that's a component of it, but, actually," she took a breath to gather her courage and asked, "I was hoping-thinking that um, if you weren't busy or anything maybe you'd want to have a sleepover? I mean, if you'd like to spend the night? We don't have work tomorrow so maybe we could even do something...together, maybe?" That wasn't nearly as eloquent as she'd been hoping for and she hoped she didn't ruin her change with her rambling.

She listened to silence on the other end and every second felt like hours. She was just about to apologize if that was too much when she heard his smile-tight voice say, "I'd love that, Scully. I'll grab my overnight back and I'll be there soon."

Chapter Text


Someone to count on in a world ever changing

Here I am, stop where you're standin'

Mulder had forgotten to pack toiletries, so they decided to quickly run to CVS before heading to their motel for the night. Simple in and out, that's all this was supposed to be.

He was somewhere behind her trying to find his brand of deodorant as she idly looked at chapsticks when she heard the familiar tune come over the twingy speakers overhead.

What you need is a lover, a man to take over

Oh girl, don't look any further

Her whole body tensed up and suddenly she felt like she was on the hardwood of her bedroom floor again, trying as hard as she could to be silent in fear that any sound she made would be her last. Her ears roared with the melody of that damn song mixed with the pounding of water running in the other room. Her nose burned with the smell of her bath oil that she'd used to relax so many times before and now sent her into a panic attack every time she caught a whiff of it.

Much like the panic attack she could feel burgeoning right now. It felt like she was leaving her own body and was watching herself from a distance. Objectively she knew she was fine and she was safe. She was just having a panic response triggered by lingering unresolved trauma. If only the objective part was in control right now. Instead, she felt the cold hands of her own anxiety clamp around her throat.

Strange when you think of the chances

That we've both been in a state of mind

She hadn't heard that song in years before he came back. The objective part of her mind, which seemed to be moving farther and farther away from her, was screaming that he was dead. It was like a constant mantra in her head that she was trying to comfort herself with, but it wasn't working. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. You killed him. You murdered him. It took three weeks for you to stop thinking that you could still see the stain of his brain matter on your ceiling. It took months to stop looking yourself staring at the new plaster that Mulder slapped over the bullet hole in the wall. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

The feeling of his arms grabbing her burned her skin and the irrational part knew there was no way to kill the devil.

"You're all I think about."

She gasped violently and fought against the hands grabbing her, sending her lunging into the shelves against the wall and resulting in tubes of Blistex scattering onto the floor. "No, no, no," she cried out, her voice quivering weakly.

"Scully, you're fine. Hey, hey, hey," she heard Mulder's comforting voice from somewhere behind her.

She whipped around and, instead of seeing the face of Donnie Pfaster, she saw the face of one very concerned Fox Mulder. "Scully, you're having a panic attack. You need to breathe," he rushed, fear lacing his voice despite his attempt to be strong.

Her gaze desperately flitted around trying to make sense of what was going on around her. The fluorescent lights were still humming above them, the aisles were empty aside from their bodies and the spilled basket Mulder must've dropped, that song was still lightly playing above them.

And we'll go on and on and on and on

"Scully," Mulder demanded, using one hand to grab her shoulder while the other cupped her face and made her look at him. She locked eyes with him and she felt anchored by them, a lifeline in a sea of worry. "Don't pay attention to the song. Pay attention to me."

Her mouth opened to say 'okay', but nothing came out. She took in a sharp breath, but her lungs still felt empty. "I-I-" she stammered.

"You're safe, nothing's going to hurt you," he reassured.

"I feel like I can't breathe," she admitted. She knew why, but knowing it and fixing it felt like mutually exclusive concepts.

"You're working yourself up," he told her. He grabbed her hands and put one on his chest and one on hers. "Breathe with me, Scully. Feel my breath," he commanded, pausing to demonstrate a deep breath that she shakily tried to copy.

"Good, good, keep doing that," he praised, continuing to breathe exaggeratedly for her.

She looked at her hand on her chest and she noticed her bare fingernails and how the white crescent tips were sticking out starkly against his black coat. All her hair was cut off. He took her fingernails. But this time, he took some fingers, too. She gasped a heaving sob and Mulder quickly started stammering, "N-no, no, no, Scully, please. Please stay with me."

She could hear the fear lacing his voice and she looked around to find him again, her eyes watering up when she saw how scared he was. Usually this type of comforting was the other way around, and usually these panic attacks were reserved for late nights when the memories became overwhelming.

Scully decided not to avert her gaze again and stayed focused solely on him, her heartbeat slowing down when she saw a smile quirk his lips slightly. "That's great, Scully. Keep breathing."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, oblivious to the patrons who turned into the aisle before quickly turning away, and only speaking again after the song had ended and a new one began.

"It was the song. Wasn't it?" Mulder asked softly, brushing her hair back so she could look at her face.

This raw vulnerability made her uncomfortable and she found it hard to meet his gaze. "Yeah," she whispered.

"Does this happen often?" The question made her really reflect. How every day when she laid in bed, she remembered herself being under it; how her bookshelf still had dents in it even after Mulder tried to rebuild it; that she couldn't even get her clothes out of the closet without thinking she could still smell him.

"He told me that I was all he thought about," she admitted. She'd never fully confessed everything that had happened that night, for fear that this exact reaction would happen.

Mulder grimaced at the thought, but was quick to comfort her. "He can't hurt you anymore, Scully."

"He does though," she whispered. "He's all I think about," her face crumbled while those words left her mouth and Mulder was quick to envelop her in his arms.

Chapter Text


He couldn't believe it when she'd agreed. Sure, they drank Shiners during their movie nights, sometimes enough so that her cheeks would be stained pink and she'd find him insurmountably funnier than normal. But drinking at his place on a Friday evening and sitting at a bar gulping down double wells and shots were drastically different.

He'd just offered going out in celebration of a case well done, maybe one drink before heading home, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. Truly and actually enjoying herself. Now they were several drinks down and she was flushed and giggly, but to a much starker extent than usual.

"Look, look," she laughed, moving her whole head to nod towards the opposite corner of the bar. He turned his head and saw what she was referring to - a couple who'd come into the bar after them were currently engaged in a massive game of tonsil hockey. The woman was sitting on the guys lap and it was quite evident that he was more than enjoying himself. There was no possible way they had as much to drink as he and Scully had. He didn't realize how drunk he was until this moment. "I can't beleive they're basically having sex in public," she slurred, whispering at full volume.

"What is your definition of having sex?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes and clusmily grabbed at the straw of her cranberry vodka, taking a sip before answering, "Fine, I was exaggerating, but barely. They clearly are about to leave and fool around at the very least. I mean look, if his hand was any higher under her skirt, he'd be inside her. He pro-probably is," she giggled.

If he were sober, he was positive he'd be flushed from hearing her so openly talk about sex. But he was drunk, so her words just emboldened him. "Well, I think it's impossible not to touch when kissing," he stated, playing devils advocate and hoping to elicit a reaction from her.

"No i's not!" she responded immediately.

"Oh really?" he teased.

"Yeah," hiccup, "I mean, it's not as fun but you don' have to touch."

"How long can you kiss before your hands start to wander?" he asked in a low voice, leaning in closer to her. Her eyes lingered for a moment on his lips and he licked them in subtle recognition of that fact.

"I…" she paused, her lips puckering and twisting to the side in contemplation. "I dunno. I've never tried," she responded a bit breathily, a hint of coquettish teasing coming through. "How long can you?"

"I don't know, I've never tried either," he laughed, feeling a tense is this going where I think it's going feeling charging the air.

"I bet I could last longer than you," she challanged.

"Oh really?" he smirked, looking at her lips hoping that she noticed. From the way her breath caught - she did. "Why's that?"

"Because I have more willpower," she teased.

"I don't know about that," he sighed, egging her on while his heart pounded in his chest and he took another gulp of courage from his gin and tonic.

He thought she was getting up to leave until he realized she was sitting on her hands. Was she-

"I'm a scientist. I have a," hiccup, "hypothesis. So we simply gotta do an experiment," she boasted with a cocky smile.

"You can't sit on your hands though," he laughed sitting up in the stool. "That's ch-cheating."

She slid her hands from out under her thighs and placed them on her lap. "Fine," she replied huskily while leaning forward, emphasizing her cleavage that was beeking out through the undone buttons of her shirt.

"That's better," he whispered while leaning forwards quickly and capturing her lips in his own before either of them had time to second guess their decision.

She let out a hum of approval as she puckered her lips against his own. He could taste cranberries on her lips as he sucked on her bottom lip. This was a new intoxication. The gin and the vodka in his system were nothing compared to the fire Dana Scully's mouth elicited.

She opened her mouth and he felt her tongue prodding his lips, as soon as he parted them she was inside exploring. She was tilting forward so she could lean into the kiss, her breath coming out hot against his cheek. He wasn't sure if it was an openess caused by the alcohol or if it was her natural reaction, but she was making these little whimpering sounds that went straight to his cock.

She broke away just enough so she could catch her breath with her lips still being attatched to his. Mulder. The word was like a whisper that he swallowed whole, but he needed more. He leaned in to close the gap and placed his hand on the back of her neck to keep her closer.

But instead of leaning in, she leaned away with a wide smirk. He kept his eyes trained on her as her chest heaved while trying to catch her breath. "I won," she smirked.


"That's not fair," he replied in a husky voice laden with arousal. "I was just trying to stabilize you," he lied.

"Uh huh, sure," she laughed, her lipstick blurred from their meeting. "You just can't keep your hands off me."

"I think there's truth in both statements," he replied as he watched her look around the bar to see if they'd gathered any unwanted attention."I think we need more trial runs," he flirted. "You know, for the sake of evidence before we draw a conclusion."

She finished off her drink and he watched it slide down the pale expanse of her throat. She let the glass hit the counter with a click and she looked at him with a playful smirk. "I suppose we need to in order to conduct an efficient experiment," she whispered, leaning so close that the last few words were just breath on his lips as she closed the gap.

Chapter Text

"You-, um, I don't mind if you want to talk dirty."

She'd rushed the last few words so that they were almost just an incoherent mumble. The whole sentence was said with a level of timidity and shyness that endeared him. Ever since they started having sex, she wasn't as forthcoming with her preferences as he would have anticipated, so he hung on every hint he got.

A lot of her preferences came out through her projecting her desires as his own and then validating them.

If you want to be harder you can.

If you want to pin me to the bed, I wouldn't mind.

I'm flexible, so if you bend me like that it's fine.

He never questioned it because it was always in the heat of the moment and anything he could do to get her off went without saying. But he'd been starting to realize that it may seem like everything in the bedroom was done for just his pleasure, which is the opposite of what he wanted.

Now, they were both flushed and sweaty with their clothes strewn around them as he fucked her on the dining table, their meals getting cold on either side of her. As soon as that little sentence left her mouth, he wasn't going to let it go this time.

He leaned his weight forward so that their pubic bones ground together as he plunged deeper, leaning over her lust adorned face. "Do you want me to talk dirty?," he asked huskily.

She looked startled at his question while her legs wrapped around his lower back. "I, I think it's nice. If you wan-"

"No," he whispered, grabbing her wrists and pinning them down on the table with the pressure he knew drove her crazy. "Do you like dirty talk?"

She moaned as he rolled his hips against hers, causing the tip of his cock to brush against her g-spot. "Yeah," she inhaled, letting her head fall back.

"What words do you like to hear during sex?" he asked, pumping into her lethargically so he could focus on this.

"Mulder," she whined. If it wasn't for the fact she instigated sex nintey percent of the time and instigated at least three or four days every week, he'd be afraid she didn't really want it just based on how hard it was for her to reveal these details to him. She was painfully private and while he didn't want to push her, he wanted her to know there was nothing she could tell him that would make him think less of her. It was just impossible.

"Please, Scully. I just want to know what you like," he reassured, leaning down and kissing the hollow of her throat and licking the little pool of sweat that had gathered there.

"There's no sp-specific words," she breathed, writhing beneath him.

"Sentiments?" he asked, interlocking his fingers with hers while still keeping them down.

"I-," she began, gasping a little at a new angle as she gathered her courage. "I just like hearing that you like it," she whispered, surprising him by making eye contact with him.

She looked so nervous and vulnerable despite her obvious pleasure and it made his heart clench in his chest. Is that why she framed everything in regards to his pleasure? Is that what turned her on or was she worried he wasn't enjoying himself. Admittedly, she was more vocal during sex than he was. It was almost as if she couldn't contain her little whimpers or gasps or moans. It turned him on insurmountably, but he hadn't realized she might have wanted the same audible reassurance.

Picking up the pace and leaning down closer to the side of her head, he growled, "I don't just like it. I love being inside you."

He felt her breath hitch as her hip's undulations sped up to match his tempo. "You're so tight, I can barely stand it. You feel so good wrapped around my cock."

"Oh my god," she whispered, tightening her grip on his hands.

Being selfish for just one moment, he sternly asked, "Do you like that Scully? Does it feel good when I fuck you?"

"God, yes," she cried throatily, arching her back to give him a deeper angle.

The reassurance made his balls tighten and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as she moved one of her legs to drape over his shoulder. "Yeah, put your leg there. You're so fucking sexy, Scully."

She looked at him while her body shook from the impacts of his thrusts. Her brows were starting to furrow and he could sense her orgasm coming on, which he was thankful for since he didn't know how much longer he could hold out with that look on her face. "You have no idea how much you turn me on," he praised in a throaty baritone.

"Oh FUCK, Mulder!" She screamed as her body quaked with the power of her orgasm overtook her. He felt her walls spasm and clamp down on him and it made his eyes roll as he released deep inside her. He thrust a few times, drawing out their orgasms while he chanted her name.

"Yeah…that was perfect," she admitted with a laugh.

Chapter Text


Juicy Personality Quiz with UNEXPECTED Results! Ran in bold lettering across the top of the glossy page of Cosmo his sharpie was hovering over. Scully said he had a concussion from the perp they nabbed earlier in the day so he couldn't drive them back and he couldn't take a nap - two things that cured his jitteryness during long car rides. He'd been whining while perusing the magazine, and to get him to stop, Scully agreed to placate him by answering a quiz.

He was surprised and tried to choose a quiz that was as minimally graphic as possible. So far, it'd been going pretty well.

Have you ever cheated?


Have you ever been cheated on?


He'd grilled her about that one, indignant and angry that someone could be such an idiot to cheat on someone liker her. Apparently her high school boyfriend realized he was gay and it hadn't really been as much cheating as it was realizing they weren't meant for each other.

Do you hold grudges?


She hadn't been giving much commentary until this one.

"Is there anyone you've given up on?"

"Isn't Cosmo supposed to be all sex or something?" she asked, hands ten and two even though no one else was on the long stretch of highway.

"Do you want to take What your favorite sex position says about you?" he teased.

"No," she deadpanned, and even though he wasn't looking at her, he knew she was rolling her eyes with a smirk by her tone alone.

"Who's to say this isn't a sex question?" he replied.

"What? Like people I've given up on because they don't know how to please a woman?" she laughed.

"Maybe," he lilted.

"Then I've given up on quite a few people," she mused begrudgingly.

"Aww," he pouted sympathetically, his sharpie squeaking as he circled answer C for lovers.

Clearing his throat, he asked the next one. "Why did your last relationship fail?"

"Romantic?" she clarified.


"What are the options?" she asked, indulging him but not wanting to divulge too much of her personal info.

"A) Infidelity, B) Incompatibility, C) Lack of Passion, D) Other"

"Other," she replied.

He circled it, acutley aware that 'other' meant 'I started working with the X-Files and it consumed my life' but it wasn't an option.

"What do you value most? Respect, Money, Trust, or Power," he asked, hand already poised to answer.

"Power," she replied absently, switching lanes to pass a John Deer Tractor sticking too far out.

He stilted and looked at her, seeing no sign of dishonesty on her face. "Really?" he asked.

"No!" she replied, a wide smile cracking her face as she laughed. "Got you," she cooed.

"Yeah, yeah," he chuckled, circling 'Trust'.


"Wait you didn't get my answer," she corrected.

"Oh, sorry. It's money right?" he joked.

"How did you know?" she smirked before lightly adding, "Trust."

He pretended to circle the answer like he hadn't already and it gave him time to really process the question he was about to ask and he felt a blanket of unease drape on his shoulders.

"Okay, last one. Are you ready?" he breathed, sitting up to prepare for the blow he was about to get.

"Hit me."

"Did you fuck Ed Jerse?"

That's not what the question really said, but it might as well have been and they both knew it. How many times did you have sex last year? He knew for a damn fact she was too busy for a boyfriend. The cancer scare a few months ago took most of her energy away. It only made sense. She didn't belong to him. Her body her choice. But he knew his answer to that question and he knew it was inexplicably connected to his unbridled affection for her.

"Yes," she answered, all traces of humor absent from her voice.

That's not what her answer was either. She'd just quietly replied once. If it had been a few, he would have assumed maybe she went out from time to time to releive stress. Part of him was hoping that she said none, so that maybe she was in the same boat as him. If he was really hopeful, maybe even for similar reasons. But instead she said once. Once when she was so mad at him and he'd been such a fucking asshole to her that she'd ran into the arms of someone who tried to kill her.

"So what are my results?" she asked as he slowly circled 0-1 on the sheet, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the car.

He tallied her answers and turned the magazine upside down to read the results.

"You are loyal above all else."

Chapter Text


"That's not a suspicious rash, Mulder. That's irritation most likely caused by the girl not treating her piercings right," Scully told him, looking at the projector slide of a teenage girl's red and swollen ear, pierced in ways he didn't even know were possible.

"But do you see the raised bumps along-" he began, only to be interrupted.

"Are keloids. She probably touched her piercings too much or didn't properly take care of them with saline treatments while they were healing. If she applied a little tea tree oil at night it would likely draw out the infection and help them go down. They aren't big enough to warrant surgery, she just needs to stop getting pierced until she learns proper treatment," Scully expertly explained. "I can't even believe the piercing shop would pierce her when she obviously has an infection. I also can't beleive she messed up her aftercare so badly. They always give you an instructional sheet when you're done."

Mulder stared at Scully in surprise during her speech. He wasn't necessarily surprised at her diagnosis, but he was surprised at how personal her answer seemed to be. Like she'd had first hand experience.

"Scully, do you have any piercings?" he asked slowly, not sure if she'd take it as an innapropriate question.

"Yes," she replied, meeting his gaze. He could sense slight mischief behind her eyes and it made his curiosity burn. He knew she had her lobes pierced, but her answer led him to beleive that wasn't all.

"Where?" he questioned boldly.

"I have my ears double pierced, used to be triple, but the third holes 'weren't professional' so I closed them, and I have my navel pierced."

His eyebrows raised in shock. Did Scully, professional, no nonsense, Scully say that she has her belly button pierced? The same Scully who wore pansuits and professional attire like she was born in it? That mischevious glint was still in her eyes as if she knew he wouldn't believe her. "You're lying," he accused with a smirk.

"No, I'm not," she stated confidently, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair while he leaned forward in his.

"Yes, you are," he replied confidently.

"Why don't you believe me?" she prodded.

He didn't want to say anything that would accidentally make it sound like he thought she was uptight - that wasn't the case - he just couldn't imagine her walking into a piercing shop let alone getting pierced. Was it for a boyfriend? Was it for herself? "I don't know. You're just such a navy brat, I didn't think you'd ever do anything so…so-"

"Rebellious?" she offered.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Don't you think that might have been exactly why I did it? I was a teenager once too in case you didn't realize," she teased.

A young teenaged Scully got pierced? He felt a smile break out at the thought. How thrilling it must have been for her to do something so rebellious behind her parents back. He suddenly felt a little closer to her, knowing she too indulged urges to fight against authority. It was probably this kinship of rebellion that led him to ask "Can I see it?" before even thinking.

Then, for the second time today, Dana Scully shocked him.

Looking towards the door to make sure it was closed, she stood up and walked towards him while untucking the front of her blouse from her skirt. A mental image he'd most definitely reflect back on.

When she was standing in front of him, she was using one hand to hold her blouse up while the other pulled her skirt down, revealing her pretty little Scully-navel adorned with a gold hoop. She angled her hips forward so she could angle it towards his face as she proudly smirked, "See?"

"No way," he beamed, raising his index finger to flick the hoop back and forth quickly.

She laughed and concaved her body away from him. "Hey, that tickles!" she giggled, tucking her shirt back in as she made her way back to her chair. Even after the little, elegant gold hoop and porecelain skin were tucked away, they were permanently imprinted in his mind. Just as his smile seemed to be permanently imprinted on his face.

She was just full of surprises and he wanted to know them all.

Chapter Text

When you spent your entire life looking for answers, when fate let them fall in your lap you learned to be grateful.

"Goooooood Morning! This is Q92.3 in D.C coming to you with today's hottest hits!"

She hadn't really been paying attention to the station, only letting it run as idle background noise as she drove to work. She heard something about a contest for basketball tickes, something about calling in, something about having to answer a question, blah, blah, blah.

"AAAAAAAnnnd congratulations, caller number thirteen! What's your name?"

"Uh, Bob," answered that familiar baritone she'd spent the last six years listening to. She felt herself sitting up straight in her chair as she listened to Bob come through her speakers.

"Well hello uh-Bob. Are you ready to answer an embarassing question to earn two tickets to the Knicks?" the announcer boasted.

"Hit me," Mulder replied. She could imagine him now, reclined in his office chair, feet propped up on the desk, absently playing with a pencil with his phone pressed to his ear.

"Alright. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do for/to you?"" the announcer asked.

Scully jumped when a car behind her honked. She'd zoned out at the red light and had several empty spaces in front of her and many angry cars behind her. She drove while her heart raced in anticipation for Mulder's answer.

"Sexiest? In terms of day to day or in bed?" he mused. If she had any doubts if this was Mulder or not, which she didn't, this would have solidified it. If was so Mulder to have be specific.

"Hmm, let's go with the sexiest thing your woman does for you day to day," the announcer clarified.

Scully felt her face blaze up as she took the widest turn of her life without even recognizing it. If she got to the office without a ticket it'd be a miracle. Hell, a cop could be behind her right now and follow her for miles and she wouldn't notice. All she could pay attention to was how Mulder was going to answer.

"She listens to me," he replied sweetly, and she felt the corners of her mouth tick upwards.

The radio station played a dramatic "awwwwh" sound effect and the announcer quickly started talking on the heels of it. "No, no, no. That's not sexy, that's just nice. Come on. What's the sexiest thing your woman could do?"

"Flirt back. Ask me out," he stated confidently.

She felt her pulse quicken as she flashed her ID to get into the parking garage. "Ohhh, so she's not 'your' woman yet?"

"No, no. Not yet," she heard Mulder chuckled shyly.

"What's her name? How do you know her?"

"She's my partner, uh, co-worker. Her name's S-Dana."

She actually gasped, the sound piercing in the compact area of her car. He said her name. He actually said her name.

"Is she in to you, dude?" the DJ asked.

She pulled into a parking spot and didn't give a second thought to if she was crooked or not. She just sat back in her seat and looked at the radio in stunned silence. Yes. Yes she is, is the only true answer he could give.

"Um," then she heard him to that fucking little nervous laugh she did when he was putting himself down. Of course I do you idiot.

"I'm not sure. Probably not," he laughed.

"Mulder!" she groaned outloud in the car, letting her head fall back against the head rest. Did he think she just let anyone take her to the batting cages for hours? Did he think she just went over to anyones house for movie marathons? God for a genius he was really an idiot.

"Well, maybe you can take her to the Knicks game on Friday because cooooonnngratulations Bob! You've won two tickets with your embarassing honesty."

"Thanks," Mulder replied appreciatively.

There was a brief intermission before a Nick Cave song came on and she just sat there in stunned silence. She knew they were bad at communicating, but surely he knew she liked him? God, she felt like a kid.

"Flirt back. Ask me out."

She unbuckled her seatbelt with renewed enthusiasm and built up her courage the entire walk to the basement. Oh, prepare yourself, Bob.

When she got there, he was exactly how she'd pictured him. Reclined and lethargic, but with a smile on his face - presumably from being the proud owner of two tickets to a game. "Good morning, Scully," he greeted.

"Hi, Mulder," she beamed, sending him her warmest smile. The cheeriness of her greeting must've thrown him off because he spent a moment just watching her, observing a foreign species in an unknown habitat.

She'd really given herself a pep talk during her walk over here and she decided she wanted to lay it on right away and, if it went poorly, she could recover throughout today instead of mulling over her impulsive decision over the weekend.

She walked slowly over towards his desk, looking around with feigned intrest as she noticed his curiosity heighten. By the time she was close to his propped up legs, she raised herself up a bit so she could sit on the desk next to his legs. "Can I ask you something?" she asked softly, pretending that it was her who was self concious rather than admitting she knew he was.

He lowered his feet and rolled closer to her, looking up at her with intense concentration. "O-of course you can, Scully."

"Did you have a good time at the batting cages?" she questioned, playing with the corner of the desk, avoiding his gaze in fear she'd lose confidence. Okay, maybe she was a little self concious too.

"Why-," he began before instead saying, "Yeah, of course. I had a great time."

She nodded, taking this in. "Me too."

She chanced a glance at him and saw he was smiling softly at her admission. "Why do you bring it up? Are you coming onto me?" he joked, trying to ease the heavy tension blanketing them.

"Yeah, is it working?" she teased while gauging his face for a reaction. The tips of his ears turned red and it was painfully cute.

"Maybe," he shrugged with faux disintrest, reclining back in his chair.

"I want to do it again," she replied.

"Go to the batting cages?" he asked.

She shook her head and cotquettishly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "No, um. If you'd be interested, I'd like to hang out with you again. In public."

"Like a..." he trailed off.

"Like a date," she confirmed, her stomach doing sommersaults as his eyes brightened.

"Really?" he asked.

"Only if you'd want to-"

"Yes. Yes I would," he nodded vigorously.

"Good," she beamed at him. They maintained eye contact for a minute before she cleared her throat and eased herself off the desk, walking around to sit at her chair.

"I, um. I promise everytime we go out I won't try to drag you to sport stuff, but I actually just got a pair of Knicks tickets? If you're free Friday?" he rambled, not wanting to say the wrong thing and have her recind the offer.

"It's a date," she smiled.

"It's a date," he repeated in near-disbelief.

Chapter Text


He'd noticed in the past few years of being partners with her, that loitering in airport terminals waiting for their red eye flight to start boarding was when Scully was the most candid and unfiltered. He figured it had something to do with the sleeping pills she'd taken in preparation for the night flight, but she had a tendancy to be a little more blunt than he was used to.

"Have you ever had sex with a man?" she asked beside him in line at the register.

The directness of the question surprised him and he felt his eyebrows shoot to his face. "No, why do you ask?"

She raised her hand and lazily pointed to a copy of the National Enquirer with a tagline that read: "Is Bisexuality the New Black? New Study says Yes!"

He chuckled at the magazine's sensationalistic headline and looked down at his drowsy partner, eyes half-lidded as she played with the cap of the water she was going to buy. "What about you?" he asked.

"Have I ever had sex with a man?" she asked before answering with a gentle nod, "Yeah"

He grabbed a pack of David Sunflower seeds from the register before putting his Iced Tea on the counter. Of all the places he'd expected to finally broach the topic of sex with Scully, this was not it.

He waited for them both to check out, lest their conversation fall privy to the cashier's nosiness. When they both had a plastic bag in hand as they started walking to gate C2, he clarified, "No, I mean have you ever had sex with a woman?"

"Not sex," she answered, yawning behind her palm.

He'd been expected a 'no' so much that it took his mind a moment to catch up and fully register her answer. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to hide his surprise.

"Youthful kissing and groping doesn't count," she shrugged, throwing herself into a seat before rummaging around her bag for the bagel and cream cheese she'd gotten.

Part of him wanted to press her and ask for more, but the other part recognized that it'd be rude to take advantage of her loose-lipped state by getting her to reveal more than he knew she would normally.

But he couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched her fix her food. She was just full of surprises.

Chapter Text


"How is she?" Doggett whispered when his partner opened the door. If he had to take one guess based off her red, puffy eyes and the apparent absence of the red headed agent in question, he'd say about just as good as he'd expected.

Monica just shook her head before her face crumpled. "Hey, hey, shhh," he comforted, pulling her into his arms.

"I knew it would be hard, but I didn't realize just how much it would hurt," she admitted, speaking quietly into his shirt to make sure the words were only heard by him.

"I know, Mon," he whispered, rubbing her back while she sniffed.

They all loved that little boy.

"Why don't you take a break, go get some air. Let me talk with her for a while, okay?" he stated softly, pulling back at the same time she did.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice cracking from strain.

"Yeah, go ahead," he confirmed and stepped aside so she could leave.

He stepped into the apartment he'd visited so many times in the past few months and shut the door behind him. But unlike the many other visits, there were no sounds of a baby cooing from the other room and he came bearing only the weight of his empathy instead of extra formula or diapers. "Just want to help. I know this shit's expensive."

Now, the only sound he could hear was that of grief in its rawest form, the sound he heard his ex-wife making all those years ago. The sounds only a mother without a child can make.

Swallowing down his own feelings, he walked the stretch of the hallway to the room he knew she'd be in. Despite his many offers to remove the furniture for her so she wouldn't have the constant reminder, she'd chosen to keep the room exactly as it was. Not that he'd expected any different.

The animals on the yellow and blue banner were still smiling, the sun still reflected warmly through the curtains, the mobile still spun over the crib, the amount of normalcy was almost suffocating when contrasted so heavily with the sight of Scully sitting on the floor next to the crib while staring blankly at a blue pacifier held in her fingers. From his vantage point he could see the indentations on the blanket from when William was lifted out one last time and he had a feeling that might have been what led to Scully sitting on the floor.

Her face didn't seem to register he'd even entered the room.

"You can't just sit there all day, Scully," he told her softly, taking a few steps towards her.

From her profile, he saw her try to form words, but ended up closing her eyes instead, resulting in big fat tears rolling down her cheeks in the path already laid by many predecessors.

He let out a sympathetic sigh before walking closer and sitting down next to her on the floor, ignoring the way his knees cracked on the way down. Doggett didn't know if she'd want to be touched, so he didn't make a move to wrap an arm around her. Instead, he put his hands in his lap and followed her gaze to a tag on the bottom of the crib.


He knew she was reading that like it was some manifestation of fate mocking her and he wished more in this moment than ever before that Mulder would somehow come out of the woodworks and comfort her in the way only he seemed to know how. Because Doggett knew no matter how many times they tried to tell her he'd understand, it wouldn't matter until the words came out of his mouth.

She'd been told that she was doing what she had to do, that there was no other choice, by every person they knew. He didn't know how to comfort a wound he'd never fully learned to heal himself. He didn't know what to say. "When Luke disappeared, my wife did exactly what you're doing right now," he admitted.

He didn't know where he was going with this, but she'd given him her attention and he wanted to say something worthwhile. "I know the circumstances are different and all, but," he swallowed and took a moment before continuing. "I regret not being there for her because she stayed in that dark place for months. I-I know moving on seems like an insult to the life you'd wanted, the life you'd been dreaming of," he swallowed thickly as her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears. "But you can't lose yourself in this grief."

"I'm sorry, John," she croaked, clearly speaking for the first time in what had to have been hours.

He shook his head dismissing her sympathy, "I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to know that the pain will stay with you, but you can't let it destroy you. William wouldn't want that." Then after a pause, he added, "Mulder wouldn't want that."

She sobbed at the mentioning of Mulder, her imagined betrayal of him undoubtably the biggest source of her grief, and he didn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to him, relieved when she seemed to take comfort rather than offense in the gesture. "How will he ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Scully. He himself went into hiding to protect you and William, he'll understand you needed to put your son in a similar position for the same reason," he explained, rubbing up and down her arm soothingly.

"I just wish I could tell him," she cried.

"You will," he replied confidently.

His attention was drawn to her as she lifted her head up to look at the mobiles of stars, the sunlight hitting them in such a way that the pain reflected the light. Her brows crinkled as she fought back a sob and, still looking intently at the mobile, whispered, "I hope you're right."

Chapter Text

“Do you know who I am?” she slurred, twirling around as if the horns, pitchfork, and red latex didn’t give it away upon first glance.

“You’re Satan,” he replied, laughing when she made a dinging sound to signal he’d answered correctly. Of all the costumes in the world, he couldn’t understand why this is what she decided to go with. Not that she didn’t look good, oh no, the red latex made her cleavage look fantastic and made her ass look just as tempting – but it seemed like a far cry from last year’s modest ‘I’m an FBI Agent’ costume she’d worn. In other words, she’d actually made an effort this time around.

“I only decided to go out earlier, an’ this was all they had left,” she explained as she took Mulder’s hand and walked alongside him on the sidewalk. Well that explained that, but it didn’t explain-

“What made you go out? I didn’t take you as the type to party,” he asked. To say he’d been shocked when he got a drunken call from Dana Scully, asking him to pick her up from a bar, would be an understatement.

She hummed in acknowledgement and continued to do so as she twirled her plastic pitchfork around. “I haven’t really done anythin’ for Halloween in a long time,” she explained. “Did you know it’s my second favorite holiday?”

“I didn’t,” he responded, letting go of her hand and, instead, interlocking his elbow with hers to help her from stumbling. “Christmas is your first, right?”

She smiled, seemingly pleased that he was right, and nodded. “Mhm! An old friend reached out and invited me to her Halloween bar crawl and I figured why not? Last year I was so sick, I didn’t even put out candy for Trick or Treaters,” she admitted with so much intensity he felt like he was on the other side of a confessional booth.

He felt her head nuzzle into his shoulder, her left horn prodding him gently. “I didn’t know apartments did Trick or Treating,” he admitted, looking down at her only for a moment before averting his gaze. Too much Scully-cleavage on display for him to trust his ability to resist looking.

“They don’t usually, but I know there are a few kids in my building and I wanna give them somethin’,” she explained. It was in times like these he realized it was impossible to ever really know the extent of Scully’s selflessness.

Not noticing his smile, she continued, “I just didn’t really realize how much I love Halloween ‘till last year. Now I wanna try and celebrate more, but I don’t think drinking with strangers is really my thing,” She started fighting a out of hiccups after this as he digested her words.

She didn’t realize how much she loved Halloween until she thought she’d never see another one. She loved holidays and she loved tradition; it was one of the first things he’d learned about her. The thought of her laying in bed, tending to a bloody nose while the rest of the world was in the midst of festivities, made him wish he could go back in time and bring over some cheesy horror movies and just do something to help her rather than watch her suffer from afar.

He couldn’t go back, but he could help her from here on out.

“There’s still time to celebrate, Scully. What do you say we pick up some discount horror movies from Blockbuster and pig out on candy?” he asked, opening the car door for her.

“Really?” she asked, turning towards him with a beaming smile, the type of smile that he’d go from hell and back to see.

“Of course,” he smiled.

She seemed pleased with this and accepted his hand as he helped ease her into the car. “Oh, and Scully?” he prompted as she turned to buckle her seat belt. She turned to look at him and he felt his breath catch in his throat at how beautiful she looked in the light of the streetlamp beaming in through the window of the car – the reflection on her hair giving the appearance of a halo on her head. “If you want to dress up next year, I have plenty of suggestions for you. Requests if you will,” he joked, reveling in the way the simple sentence deepened the blush on her cheeks.

Chapter Text

"Do you know what song that kid was playing?" Scully asked while buckling her seatbelt.

Mulder had been fiddling with the keys, trying to get the old rental to start, and hadn't followed her train of thought. "Huh?"

"The Brown's teenage son. He was in the garage playing with his band. Did you hear?" she explained, turning to him with a furrowed brow as she concentrated.

"Oh, yeah. I think so," he nodded, letting out a sigh of relief when he turned the key and the engine finally started.

She was silent for a while and he thought the topic had blown over. But then the silence dragged on for too long and he realized something was off. At a red light, he glanced over at her and saw she had a look of intense concentration on her face and was practically glaring a hole through the dash.

"You okay there, Scully?" he teased.

"The song's stuck in my head, but I can't remember the name of it and it's bothering me," she admitted monotonously, trying to figure it out even as she spoke. "Do you really not remember?"

He laughed at her seriousness and apologized, "No, sorry. I didn't catch it." She just let out a little hum sound of acknowledgement before the silence resumed.

They were just now leaving and they had a forty minute drive to the motel and a broken radio. If there was one thing he knew about Scully, it was that she wasn't going to let this go and he missed having someone to talk to while driving. "Did it sound familiar?" he asked.

"Yes! I remember around when I was teaching at the academy it would play on the radio all the time. It's grungy, it's catchy," she rambled, her face a mask of intense contemplation.

Already with the description of early nineties, overplayed, and grungy, he was pretty certain he knew what song she was thinking of. But he wasn't about to suggest it and let this opportunity slide by. "You should sing what you know, then I might be able to recognize it."

"Mulder, you know I don't sing," she deadpanned, memories of a monotone Joy to the World visiting them both.

"Come on, Scully," he prodded. "It might help you remember."

She was silent for a moment and he thought she might've been blocking him out, but then he heard a sound he'd never expected to hear: Dana Scully imitating a guitar riff.

"Bum ba dum, dum da da dum, bum ba dum, dum da da dum." It wasn't like her singing in the words, she was actually inflecting, albeit only slightly, and it was the cutest sound he'd ever heard.

It was also distinguishable enough that his prior guess was confirmed, but he was having too much fun to let her know. "Do you know any of the lyrics?"

"I think I know a little of the beginning," she confirmed.

"Sing it," he prompted, trying to hide his smile when he looked over and saw the tips of her ears were already red from embarrassment.

"Load up on guns, bring your friends. It's fun to lose, and to pretend," she sang softly, but in the silence of the car it was clearly audible.

"She's du dun dun and blah blah blah, oh no, I know, a dirty word," she continued, mumbling through the lyrics she didn't know.

Not only was she singing, but she was emoting too and he was glad he didn't have to pay too much attention on this country road, because it was hard to keep his eyes off her.

Suddenly she gasped and said "Nirvana! It's by that band Nirvana!"

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, pretending like this was news to him and the words Smells Like Teen Spirit hadn't been dancing in his head since the conversation started.

"What's it called?" she asked him, getting excited at the affirmation.

"I can't remember, sing more," he replied.

"Then he just goes 'hello, hello, hello, how low,' over and over again for a bit before the chorus. Damn it, how does the chorus go?" she mumbled, singing the hello's quickly.

"With the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us," he sang, smiling when he heard her gasp in approval.

"I feel stupid, and contagious. Here we are now, entertain us," they sang in unison. To be honest, the kid's playing had annoyed them while they were trying to conduct the interview, but if it had led to this moment happening, he'd gladly request an encore ten times over.

"A mul-nah na, an albino, a mosquito, my libido, yeah!" they sang, taking turns fumbling on different words.

She started giggling at their duet and the decidedly made this song an honorary favorite of his. "What is it?!" she yelled, laughing.

He pretended to think a moment before declaring, "Smells Like Teen Spirit!"

"Yes!" she exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing his arm in celebration. "Oh I could kiss you, that was bothering me so much," she exhaled, as if a weight had physically been taken off her shoulders.

If this is the type of reaction he got, he'd sing her the whole damn Nevermind album right here and now. "They never actually say those words so I bet that's why you couldn't think of it," he offered, not wanting to embarrass her by telling her she could feel free to show her appreciation anytime.

"Ugh!" she sighed, leaning back in her seat as if she'd run a marathon. "I feel so relieved."

"You lied by the way," he teased.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You can sing."

"Did you just hear me, Mulder?" she laughed. "No, I can't."

"I think you have a pretty singing voice," he replied honestly.

He looked over just in time to see the corners of her lips twitch up at his compliment. "So do you," she murmured softly.

Chapter Text

He'd read enough erotic poetry and tired romantic prose to know everything running through his mind in this moment was cliche.

The first time they'd made love, the moonlight streaming through his blinds was the only thing illuminating her body. It'd felt unreal at the time - and the blue haze they'd been cast in made her seem ethereal. A fantasy come to him in the night under the visage of a bare Dana Scully.

But it had been real. And it was happening again.

It was still nighttime, like the last time, but the glow of her bedside lamp filled the room far more effectively than the moonlight and left no room in his mind for doubt that she was here in front of him, baring herself to him in the most intimate way possible.

With the light, he felt like his world had exploded in Technicolor. Now visible to him was the pink flush across her chest, then her stomach as he kissed his way down it, the blue of her eyes as she watched him with a hooded gaze, and the red of her lips as she bit them while giving him permission to part her thighs.

What he hadn't been able to see last time was this.

And he currently wasn't able to ignore those cliches that were making the truths of themselves known before his very eyes.

The once forbidden fruit lay ripe before him, glistening so brightly he couldn't help but lick his lips and her juices ran onto her thighs. At times the metaphor of a peach had seemed lasvicious, as if women were meant to be consumed, devoured. But the way her blood rushed to her labia and made it swell with a pink hue, he realized the comparison was fitting as something so succulent deserved to be savoured.

He could smell her arousal from his proximity and it was what stirred him to action. Sweet as a peach.

He raised his hands to rub up and down her illiac crest before sliding towards her red curls. Her breasts hitched with her breath as he started touching the areas where elastic had been a mere ten minutes ago. Keeping his fingers on the tendons of her thighs, he moved his fingers to part her lips and look at her more.

It was like he was looking at a Georgia O'Keefe painting. Velvet petals for lips, her bud resting swollen and red at the crest. She parted her legs furthur and it was like a flower blooming before his very eyes.

"Mulder," he heard her call breathily.

He tore his eyes away from her sex and locked eyes with her. "What are you doing?" she panted, easing herself up on her elbows to look at him. Her arousal was evident in every way possible, but it didn't hide the gleam in her eye that he hadn't truly seen since he was with his first love in her parent's basement. The look that seeked reassurance and validation. The look that feared not getting it.

The look that reminded him this was their second time making love and he'd spent the last five minutes staring at her crotch while mentally comparing it to romantic poetry.

He wasn't about to recite the Ode to Scully's Vagina he'd just written in his mind. So instead, he settled on, "You have a beautiful vagina."

She cocked an eyebrow at him before letting her face fall into her shoulder as she giggled. "What? You do," he laughed, placing a kiss on the inside of her bent knee.

"I'm sorry. Just 'you have a beautiful vagina' seem so strange and formal for the man with so many tapes and 1-900 subscriptions," she teased playfully, seemingly completely at ease from his compliment.

He looked back down at one of his new favorite body parts of Scully's and thought about all the tapes, the calls, the words he'd heard used in locker rooms by other men who weren't bestowed with the absolute gift of Dana Scully parting her thighs. Words so crass and ill-fitting of the pure trust she was giving him that the thought of using them made his tongue burn.

But if she wanted him to get a less technical, he'd get less technical.

"Dana. Katherine. Scully," he started, punctuating each name with a kiss that led his mouth closer and closer to where they both wanted him.

"Y-yes?" she replied, her voice strained as he blew a stream of cold air straight onto her.

"You have a beautiful pussy," he told her before tasting her.

Any reviews she had about that term came in the form of screams and whimpers. A rose by any other name...

Chapter Text





"Why are you wearing your coat?" he asked, finally broaching the question that'd been on his mind for the last two hours. He'd initially not taken much notice, but then he started picking up on the way she kept trying to roll up her sleeves and failing miserably because of the bulk. He'd thought she'd just forgotten until it became overwhelmingly obvious this was a purposeful suffering she was putting herself through. he knew his new partner had some quirks, hell so did he, but this just seemed uncomfortable.

"Um, I'm just a little cold," she shrugged. That might have passed if it weren't for the extreme binaries working in the basement in winter came with. In this realm of the building, the heat was always either broken, leaving them to freeze, or it was overcompensating, leading them to boil. This was a boiling day and he was uncomfortable even looking at her.

"Scully," he repeated accusatorily, not letting the lie slide.

"I'm dressed innapropriately for work," she replied, letting her eyes fall back down to the paperwork on her desk as if to signal her indifference on the subject.

Every fibre in his body wanted to make a suggestive joke, but he was too worried about her overheating in the name of modesty. "It's just a paperwork day," he offered. She didn't say anything and he followed with a sympathetic, "It can't be that bad."

"I'm not wearing an undershirt," she blurted as if it was a big reveal.

It wasn't.

"So?" he prompted, uncertain of what was causing the issue.

"I'm wearing a thin white blouse and a black bra," she elaborated, still not making eye contact, but not making much progress on the paper she'd been staring at.


He laughed sympathetically and did his very best not to imagine what that looked like. "No one ever comes down here but us," he offered.

She finally looked up at him and she looked like she was carefully trying to choose her words.

Double oh.

"I hope I've never made you feel uncomfortable-" he started apologetically. Was she really suffering because she thought he'd just leer at her?

She cut him off immediately as if already knowing what he was thinking. "No, it's not you, Mulder."

They stared at each other for a moment before awkwardly laughing off the uncomfortable situation. "I just didn't want you to think this is how I normally dress. I didn't even realize how noticeable it was until I took off my coat at security."

"You can dress however you want," he offered. At her raised eyebrow he quickly added, "I mean, what's important is your work. I'd never judge you for whatever you choose to, or not to, wear." He was digging himself in a hole, but based off her smile, she wasn't mad.

She stood up and started unbuttoning her coat. "Good, because then I'd have to start being vocal about my opinions on your ties."

He let out a little laugh before looking down at his current tie with pigs on it. "Hey, what's wrong with my ties?" he asked before lifting his eyes back up to her.

No wonder she'd been shy. The silk blouse was nearly see through and her black bra was undoubtably visible through it. He'd taken a big glimpse of her back as she hung up her coat, but only saw the two front cups for all of one millisecond before giving her privacy and darting his eyes down to his work.

"Aside from the fact they're tacky?" she teased goodnaturedly. He could hear the smile in her voice, but didn't want to look at her and accidentally look down and make her regret her decision.

He was able to keep his eyes away for the whole rest of the day and for that, when the coat was back on her shoulders in preparation for the walk out, she gave him a grateful smile and an appreciative "Thank you, Mulder."

He was proud of himself for proving that he was a good partner and would never oogle her, but later that night his thoughts kept flashing to that hint of black lace and he remembered a millesecond's glance can go a long way with a photographic memory.


"Mulder! I need your help!"

The bright flash of the crime scene techs make him blink his eyes and wipe a hand over his face. He'd been here once before, when he quite literally kicked her door down to rush to the bathroom and find her fighting with Tooms.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it'd be like for them to be the average, everyday partners. Would she have ever invited him over for a cup of coffee? Or would he have never seen the inside of Scully's domain if it wasn't the scene of a crime?

Wordlessly, passively listening to the ongoing conversations around him that were saying nothing more than abduction, blood, missing, is that her partner? He had to see everything - he had to make sure no stone was left unturned.

He entered forbidden domain without hesitation. Of all the times he imagined being in Scully's bedroom-

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced analytically around the room. It was as he'd imagined: clean, orderly, feminine, so very Scully. A closet in the corner was cracked open and he mindlessly went over to it. Realistically, he knew it was his memory of her telling him about Donnie Pfaster keeping her in the closet mixed with his desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Duane Barry was stupid and this was all a misunderstanding and he'd find her there. But, as his heart knew, as soon as he opened the door there was nothing.

Well, nothing wasn't accurate. This was the closet that she kept her clothes and hamper in, and upon opening it he was met with a strong waft of her scent and all the clothes he'd do anything to see filled again.

His eye was caught by a cup of a white bra dangling off the laundry basket, caught on the rim by the bridge in the middle and a matching pair of white panties sitting on top of the other dirty clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt a crashing wave of guilt for feeling like he was invading her privacy.

He needed to find her.


Either she didn't hear him knock on the adjoining door or he didn't hear her tell him to wait. His brain was too overwhelmed in this moment to actually know which it was.

All he knew was that he just walked into see Scully on all fours with her ass in the air towards him as she looked under her bed for something. That in and of itself would have been enough to kill him, but she was currently in the middle of getting dressed and all she was wearing was her underwear. Which, he was eternally greatful for because he may have just died on the spot if not.

Her back was pale and milky with an intermitten smattering of freckles that reminded him of starlight, but what stood out most in this moment was how round and perfect her-

"Mulder!" she screamed as she completely fell to the floor, as if trying to dissolve into it. Her hands quickly came to her front to cup her breasts as she whipped her head over her shoulder.

He only met her eyes for a moment before snapping them shut and running back to his room, slamming the door behind him. "Scully, I'm so sorry!"


It would be a miracle if he didn't crash, plain and simple. It was just impossible not to look.

Scully'd fallen asleep in the passenger seat, a gift he'd forever be envious of, but as she slept she inadvertenly unbuttoned the top button she'd previously had buttoned which opened her blouse down to the front middle clasp of her bra. She was dead to the world, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose with each deep breath. It was just him alone in the car now with the sounds of the seventies and Scully's sleeping body turned towards him.

Because of course she was.

What really didn't help was the intermitten groans she'd release as she'd squirm in her seat in an attempt, he presumed, to get more comfortable. Oh, and to add to it all, her skirt was riding up as her hand just innocently rested at the hem. It was a sight that was as endearing as it was arousing.

She made a gasping sound and his eyes left the road to look at her face, which was now accented with a furrowed brow of sleepy concentration. Was she having a nightmare?

His own brows furrowed in concern as he glanced between the stretch of desolate highway and the passanger seat to make sure she was okay. From mile marker 66 to 78, she gasped three times, moaned twice, and readjusted one time that resulted in her brushing her breasts against his arm that was resting on the middle console, and now Mulder was cursing himself for not wearing better pants.

"-der," she whispered. He'd heard those three letters together enough to know it was the ending half of him name, but he'd never heard them in quite that inflection. Curiosity started to turn into hopeful understanding as he realized that Dana Scully, his beautiful partner, sounded like she was having a sex dream.

But there was no way-

He glanced at her colored cheeks as she sleepily nuzzled herself against the headrest. Against his better judgement, his eyes darted down to the valley of her breasts and stared appreciatively before she breathily whispered, "Fuck."

Then, with the timing and grace of a bull in a china shop, he drove over a rumble strip and she woke up with a start. "Wha's wrong?" she slurred sleepily but alarmed.

"Sorry," he coughed, readjusting himself in his seat while praying she didn't see his hard on. "I was looking at a billboard and drove over a rumble strip," he explained, hoping she didn't turn around and notice the large expanse of nothingness behind them.

Luckily she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. She started pulling down her skirt and rebuttoning her shirt before squirming in her seat uncomfortably. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, uh-" she started, but stopped herself.


"Did I talk in my sleep at all?" she asked nervously.

With her behaviour confirming his hopeful suspicions, he bit back a smile. "No, not at all."

Extra Bonus

She wasn't sure if there was a sight more jarring but welcome to her than that of a sleeping Mulder in nothing but his boxers in her bed. It was a sight she'd imagined countless times over, though she'd never admit it, but she didn't think it would take these circumstances for it to have to happen.

She'd seen his body in an assortment of ways and segments throughout their partnership, but she'd never gotten a chance to really appreciate it up close. It truly wasn't fair that he lived on a diet of fast food and Kraft Mac and Cheese yet could simply run on occasion and have a body like this, but she was too stunned by it to be resentful.

This is what he was hiding beneath his clothes every day. Mulder was always kind, gentle, and sweet towards her, but this was a body of elegant strength and power. He wore his masculinity well and she wasn't saying that jsut because, in her efforts to document his recovery, she'd observed his nocturnal tumesence come and go in flares.

It just amused her to no end he was sleeping like an angel on the very same spot she'd been in while imagining him with her hand between her legs.

Though he'd been wearing a little less in her imagination.

Chapter Text

She'd been trying so hard to feign indifference while they waited for Skinner, but it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. "Agent Mulder, what's an eight letter word for 'desperate'?"

Danielle. Scully answered begrudginly to herself.

"Hopeless," Mulder replied to the young blonde.

Wow their answers were the same, great minds think alike.

Scully shook the petty thought from her mind as she focused her attention back on the same paragraph of the journal article she'd been staring at since they sat down.

Skinner's usual secretary, Arelene, was out of the office for a week long holiday, leaving the generic brand Pamela Anderson in her place. Be nice, Dana.

Scully'd initially had no problem with the woman, but every time they came in, she obvertly flirted with Mulder right in front of her. Scully had no claim to him, she knew that, but part of her recognized that according to office rumors she in fact did have claim to him and that claim was not being respected. Before encountering this woman she'd been offended by everyone's presumption that Mulder was hers and she was Mulder's, but having this outsider question that made her realize how much comfort she actually took in that unstated assumption. It made her realize that in her deeply surpressed subconcious, she had a crush on Mulder and this woman was a threat.

And she fucking hated it.

"Ugh, you're so smart! Thank you!" the woman beamed, scratching his answer down on the crossword while having the audacity to pretend it was a new component in her puzzle when it was really the first time ink had touched that newspaper all day. Be. Nice. Dana.

Last time they'd come in, Mulder had made a comment about her being unnesecarily harsh with the secretary and she was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she'd been unecessarily rude to this girl simply because she had a good taste in men, and for Mulder seeing her act like that.

"Oh, uh, thanks," Mulder replied as he averted his gaze shyly.

If it were Scully she'd have called him brilliant, but then again if it were her he probably would't look as damn bashful as he does right now.

"Hey Agent Mulder?" the woman called out again. If Mulder felt Scully's entire body tense up in irritation, he didn't acknowledge it.


"I was curious if you wanted to get drinks tonight after work?"

"Oh," he chuckled breathlessly, "um-."

She peeked an eye up and glared at the woman angrily. Not that she noticed, she was too busy leering at the clearly surprised Mulder.

They had plans tonight. Like they'd had every Friday night for the past two months.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she waited what felt like hours, but was probably only seconds, for his response. "I'm flattered, but I actually already have plans tonight," he explained appreciatevly.

While she was relieved he didn't turn her down, her stomach twisted at the idea that he only did so because she was right there.

"Are they so important you can't get out of them? I'd make it worth your while," she cooed.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone's attention to Scully who, at the same time, realized she was white knuckle gripping and denting her journal article and released her grip with startled embarassment, all while refusing to make eye contact with the other two.

"Sorry, no can do," Mulder replied, turning his attention back to Danielle, offering her a shrug of apology.


"Agents, thanks for coming," Skinner greeted, opening his door and effectivley cutting off his secretary, who said no more as they passed by nor when they left the meeting half an hour later.

To be honest, she couldn't remember in full what the meeting had been about, she was too busy thinking about the way Mulder shyly chuckled when he was asked out. Did he get asked out a lot? Surely so with how he looks? And his charm, and his brains?

"Scully?" she heard Mulder call out distantly, followed by a slight tug on the elbow of her jacket.

"Huh?" she started, realizing she'd been spacing out in the elevator.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded, shaking a hand in front of her face to dismiss his worry.

He nodded with her in silent understanding and they stood side by side as the awkward tension permeated the space between them. Feeling her guilt gnaw at her, she spoke up suddenly, "If you had wanted to go out with Skinner's secretary, I hope you didn't turn her down just because I was there."

"What?" he replied, uncertain of her meaning.

"I don't want to stop you from pursuing something you might want," she replied cryptically, for some reason she was unable to say her true feelings without masking them with indifference.

"You're not. I'm pursuing what I want," he replied.

She felt her gut bottom out as he said his, the thumbnail she was using to pick at the dead skin around her fingers picking up the pace in a panic. "But I thought you turned her-"

"It's just as I told her, I have plans tonight," he reassured, his face coloring a bit under her attention. A slow smile of understanding stretched her lips at the same time as his hand slid against hers, intertwining thier fingers gently.

"Oh," she replied softly, her smile evident in her tone as she looked ahead at the door. "Good."

Chapter Text

Looking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d even asked. If she remembered correctly, it was around Valentine’s Day. Part of her remembers the person they were interviewing gloating about their spouse doing this and that for them to celebrate the holiday. It was years ago, very early in their partnership, so she can’t remember why she decided to ask. All she remembered how awkward she felt because she’d never really asked him such a personal, non X-Files, related question before, and how sweet and innocent his response had been.

“What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?”

It was like everything preceding the question was a blur up until the moment the words left her mouth, then she remembered with crystal clear accuracy. The way her face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment at her question, the way he turned to her with a look of surprised puzzlement, and especially the way he seemed to give it genuine thought, as if he was honored by her asking something like that and wanted to give her a quality answer in the hopes she might do it again.

Show me they know me.” Was his response.

There must have been something in her facial expression that made him feel like he needed to elaborate. “Like, um, I don’t know. It’s nice seeing that someone pays attention to you, ya know? Someone just doing something as simple as knowing my favorite song because they heard me humming it or bringing me something to drink because they thought I might want one. I-I don’t know, that’s stupid,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“No, it’s sweet.”

To be honest, she thought it was weird at the time. She didn’t get why something so oddly mundane would be his answer. Now, with multiple years of Mulder-knowledge under her belt, she understood and it broke her heart. Mulder just wanted to know someone cared about him. That any one of the billions of people on this planet cared to know anything about him.

She was certain that little conversation they had in the middle of nowhere all those years ago hadn’t meant anything to him. But it always stuck with her. When they went to a gas station and he inevitably grabbed David’s brand sunflower seeds and an iced tea, when he dramatically reenacted all seven and a half minutes of Stairway to Heaven every time it came on, even when he wore that fading purple shirt signaling he was low on clean clothes – she never said anything, but always thought to herself “I know you, Mulder.”

She was pretty confident at this point in their partnership that she knew him about as well as she knew herself. Recently, as she was contemplating what to get him for his upcoming birthday, those words rang around in her head. “Show me they know me.”

She was really sewing her heart onto her sleeve with this, but she just wanted to do something sweet for him.

While she waited for him to come down to the office the morning of, she felt her stomach twisting into knots. This was stupid. I should have just gotten him the ties I’d been teasing him about.

She was just about to grab the box from his desk when he barged in. “Hey, you’re here early,” he greeted.

No point in hiding now. “Happy Birthday, Mulder,” she smiled before taking a step forward and hugging him.

“You remembered,” he beamed as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her against him.

She rolled her eyes before stepping back and sitting at her desk. “Unlike you, I celebrate birthdays in human years,” she teased.

He chuckled at her joke before his attention was captivated by the big box on his desk. “And you got me a present?” he asked, all but running to his seat.

She smiled at his enthusiasm but felt another surge of embarrassment come up as he started to unwrap it. What if he just thought it was weird?

“My favorite color too, Scully,” he replied, pointing to the wrapping paper. He opened the box and didn’t say anything, and she turned to her computer to give herself something to do so that it didn’t seem like she was analyzing his reaction. Unfortunately, her computer was turned off, so she had to sit and wait as the god-awful AOL Dial Up sound screeched through the office. She stared at the outline of a man on the screen with feigned interest until she heard Mulder murmur something.

“Hm?” she prompted, looking back at him.

She felt relief flow through her body when she saw his face almost being ripped open by the intensity of his smile. “Scully!” he stated, rummaging through the box.

“It’s silly,” she laughed breathily.

“It’s all my favorites,” he beamed, pulling out the random assortment of objects.

Sunflower seeds, iced tea, the ‘crispy’ M&Ms he could only find at one gas station in the area that he’d become obsessed with, a baseball card of the player he had a jersey of from that team he said he liked at the baseball diamond that one night, a copy of “Planet of the Apes” because a year ago he said his wore out, a Suede CD because he turned their music up and always murmured  ‘hell yeah’ when they came on the radio, and a handwritten card that would mortify her if he read it in front of her right now.

Then, at the very bottom of the box, was the item she was most shy about. One of the times he’d visited her after her abduction, he’d casually mentioned to her that he used to have a Bones action figure from Star Trek that he’d destroyed after Samantha was taken. She thinks he was trying to make some point about being happy that she was back, but eloquence had never been their strong suit.

She went to every nerdy store in the D.C. area, but she found the one Bones figure that was released around that time and she got it for him. Did he need it? No. But if the stuff in the box right now didn’t prove that she listened to him, this would.

For a moment she feared she misremembered. She saw the moment his eyes locked on the doll, because his eyebrows cocked up as he picked it up. She looked up for a moment and stared at the pencils on the ceiling as he examined it. When she started to accept she must’ve gotten the wrong doll, she heard him murmur, “You remembered.”

Her eyes shot back to him and caught his eyes, which were focused intently on hers – their brightness matching the radiance of his smile. “Of course I did.”

He looked down at the collection of stuff with unabashed happiness and any nervousness she’d had dissipated. He opened his mouth a few times, but seemed to be at a loss of words. He ran his thumb lovingly over the blue felt of McCoy’s shirt, and told her, “Did you know Bones is my second favorite doctor of all time?”

Her computer flashed to her home screen and she turned to type in her password – her anxiety lowering now that he was shifting the topic into something less intimate or personal as her gift had been. “Oh really? Who’s your first?” she asked.

“This beautiful redheaded doctor I know. She’s thoughtful and considerate, and the best partner anyone could ever ask for,” he praised.

She tried to suppress the smile that broke out on her face as she turned to Mulder, who had taken a seat as was opening a bag of seeds as he continued to smile at her. “I’ll keep that in mind for birthday present next year,” she teased.