Chapter Text
October 30, 1998 - Washington, D.C.
Skinner closed the conference room door behind him. The bang was louder than intended but not entirely unwarranted. It was too early for this. Mulder and Scully’s antics had interrupted his day before he’d even finished his morning coffee.
He brushed past Arlene with a simple nod. His meeting with the FBI’s head suits zapped any energy for pleasantries. He’d done enough talking already, but, of course, there was more to come.
You’ll need to handle this directly, Skinner.
And he would. He’d handle the fuck out of it as soon as he had more coffee. It was already cold by the time he plopped behind his desk. The cool sip angered him just enough to reach for the misconduct report filed against his agents.
The complaint came from an officer employed by Haddonfield PD. Scully and Mulder were supposed to investigate the supposed return of the infamous Babysitter Killer. Instead, they had allegedly been caught in a compromising situation. According to the report, they appeared to be kissing in an interrogation room, with the male agent “disrobing” before being interrupted.
Skinner brought a hand to his temple. Slow circles did little to relieve the telltale throb of a headache. That was the big accusation. The whammy. The doozy that got him called into a meeting with orders and threats to follow. It wasn’t the only one, though. The officer spelled out other “areas of concern.”
Standing too close together.
Whispering in each other’s ears.
Unnecessary touching.
It wasn’t often the FBI received misconduct reports of this nature from local PD. So, of course, it would involve Mulder and Scully, the two people who probably had more strikes against them than the entirety of the Washington headquarters.
Skinner hadn’t wanted children. Yet, here he sat, a father in some twisted sense. Disciplinary meetings and official reprimands felt a lot like lectures and detentions these days. What was next? PTA meetings? Help with homework?
If he was a surrogate father, he could at least be proud of one of them. Scully was the do-gooder. The pretty doctor with a head on shoulders. The type that blushed when she lied. Mulder was… well… Mulder. The rebel. The truth seeker. The loaded gun. He was a damn good agent, but he also came with heaping piles of trouble. The kind of trouble that wasted his time. That got him called into endless meetings and turned his coffee cold and his blood hot.
Mulder had rubbed off on Scully, and she on him. Their field reports were still messy, but she brought science and softness. She smoothed Mulder’s edges and held him to the ground when he threatened to float away. Skinner saw the way he looked at her. If Mulder had to blow up the world to save Scully, it would be lost to flames in seconds. It’s probably what got them into this fucking mess in the first place.
Kissing in the interrogation room. You’ve got to be kidding me?
Skinner sipped his coffee. The bitterness lingered on his tongue as he reached for the phone. Mulder answered on the second ring.
“It’s Skinner,” he said. “I’m flying out to Haddonfield tomorrow morning, and if you two want to keep your jobs, you better be at the gate holding flowers.”
The drive from the airport had been uncomfortably silent, but it beat the current tension. Skinner had created it. He explained the accusations while parroting the rules and regulations he hoped to God they hadn’t broken.
Agents are forbidden from consorting while on assignment. Any romantic or sexual relationships must be reported. Partnerships that break these rules are subject to reassignment.
Now, the motel room felt stifling. Skinner was sweating. Scully looked miserable, and Mulder was in the first tantrum of what Skinner expected would be many.
“This is ridiculous, sir,” Mulder protested. “Scully and I… we weren’t… we’ve never even kissed.”
Even kissed?
What the hell did that mean? That they wanted to? That they’d done other things but never allowed their lips to meet? He was sweating again. Big, dewy drops he was sure they both could see rolling down his stupid bald head.
Skinner wanted to believe them. But even now, they were sitting on the edge of the bed close enough that their shoulders touched. It didn’t help the cause, and he was thankful when Mulder jumped up to pace the room. He fantasized about clapping him on the back with an Attaboy. Stay the hell away from her so we can all keep our jobs.
“I can corroborate Agent Mulder’s story, sir,” Scully offered. “The officer who filed the report is mistaken.”
“Then explain it,” Skinner demanded.
“My hair got tangled in Agent Mulder’s pin.”
“Pin?”
“My pumpkin pin,” Mulder added. “Well, it’s a lapel, actually.”
Skinner felt another headache coming on. “I don’t care what type of pin it is. Why were you wearing it?”
“Tis the season, sir,” Mulder said as if the answer was so painfully obvious it made him foolish for even wondering.
Scully jumped in before Skinner could put his hands around Mulder’s throat. “In an effort to free my hair, it required Agent Mulder and I to get close. Eventually, he had to remove his suit jacket. I could see how that could be interrupted as kissing and disrobing from the wrong angle.”
“Well,” Skinner started while rubbing his temples. “That may all check out, but there are other complaints.”
Mulder huffed. “Name them.”
Skinner glanced at the report, not that he really needed to. He’d read it so many times it was etched in the grooves of his brain and tattooed on his eyelids. “Standing too close together. Whispering in each other’s ears. Unnecessary touching.”
“Those complaints are unfounded,” Mulder shot back.
“Oh, really? Well, why don’t you walk me through it again, Agent Mulder.”
“As Scully already explained, we were in the interrogation room—”
“Whispering in each other’s ears?” Skinner interjected.
Mulder narrowed his eyes. “Discussing the case. Then, Agent Scully’s hair became entangled with my lapel—”
“Because you were standing too close together?” Skinner tapped the misconduct report for emphasis.
Mulder’s mouth dropped before slamming back shut. Scully’s cheeks turned pink.
“I’m not sure about the unnecessary touching,” Skinner continued, but your stories support the other items on this list.”
“So this is why you came all the way here?” Mulder asked. “To lecture us?”
Skinner suppressed the hysterical laughter threatening to break free. At least he wasn’t the only one to view this relationship as some sort of messy paternal dynamic. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “I’m not just here to lecture you. I’m here to shadow you. Where you go, I go. What you do, I write down.”
“You can’t be serious,” Mulder moaned.
“If you two want to keep your jobs, to keep the X-Files, it’s what has to be done. I have people to answer to, too.” Skinner moved for the door, shutting down the conversation—or so he hoped.
“The Babysitter Killer may have returned. We have surveillance to do. Work to accomplish.”
It was Mulder—it was always Mulder. Skinner spun around. His eyes passed over an anxious-looking Scully to bore into her rebellious partner. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Agent Mulder. While you’re hunting down the Babysitter Killer, I’m quite literally stuck on babysitting duty.”
With that, he pushed into the parking lot.