This is The X-Files fanfiction. Read it on AO3
She has no doubts that Mulder knows how to touch her mind.
She suspects that he keeps under wraps a few tricks on how to touch her soul.
But how is it possible that he’s never touched her body before, yet he can play it like a fine musical instrument? With unerring precision, he recognizes all the right keys to touch and strings to pull. Her body, mind, and soul sing the most sonorous chords all at once. Only in his arms.
If he can make her vibrate all the way down to her toes with just one kiss, what's going to happen when they take it to the bedroom? Oh, boy.
Scully straddles his lap and in a matter of seconds, their clothes end up in heaps on the floor of her living room.
Fingertips, calloused and tender, map the soft curves and hard muscles; eyes, hazel, and baby-blue, trail over the cream and bronze canvases of skin; lips deliciously full, devour hungrily over each other.
In his hands, he holds a microcosm of the ocean of pleasure that comes to wash her in tides.
With tender fingers, he caresses the undersides of her breasts - thumbs sliding over the hard nipples - then moves them down to rest on that sweet spot where her waist goes to her hips, and eventually encircles her back. Their bodies touch head-to-toe and the sweet fragrance of her skin fills him to the brim with each inhale.
“God, you are so beautiful,” Mulder whispers, tightening his arms around her and kissing her soft, fruit-scented hair.
“Should we take it to the bedroom? You know, there’s a bed in this apartment.”
In reply, he dips his nose into her neck and nips gently on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, hands still roaming along the pale expanse of her back. As they settle on the luscious cheeks of her lace-covered bottom, he gives them a firm squeeze and lifts his head off her shoulder to look into her eyes.
“I want to take you to the ocean, Scully.”
Scully smiles, her eyes crinkling with amusement. That’s clearly not what she expected to hear.
“Ocean?”
“Yes. To spend a day on the beach. To see the milky skin of your arms and shoulders become crowded with peach-colored freckles, and your russet hair lighten in the sun.”
“You are such a romantic, Mulder.” She chuckles, rubbing his nose affectionately in an Eskimo kiss.
“Should we call Skinner and tell him we are going on holiday together?”
“Mulder, at this point you can ask me to call Skinner and tell him I believe in aliens, and I’ll blithely agree. You have me that high on dopamine.”
One of her hands drifts down his sternum and brushes an impressive bulge through the rough denim of his pants. Mulder whimpers.
“Can we please not bring Skinner into our bed?” Scully murmurs into his ear, and the tone of her voice alone makes him squeal.
“Deal. And we are on the sofa, not in bed.”
“Oh, I stand corrected. Can we please go to bed and not talk about Skinner?”
Mulder slides his hands up her back, over her shoulder blades and neck, until they reach her face and cup her cheeks. His stare suddenly turns serious.
“I know I’m at the risk of sounding a wee bit cynical here, but I don’t wanna be just your easy lay, Scully. This celebration of ours… is it just a one-time thing, or do you think you can… we can… feelings might be involved here?”
There’s a pause of a length of a heartbeat that feels like it lasts hours. Time stretches. That's Mulder’s cue to lay out his cards and just go along with what’s coming next.
“Because I love you, Scully.”
He would expect her to frown. To jump off his lap and put on her clothes back. To ask him to leave and forget everything that’s happened tonight.
He hopes for a kiss instead.
He’s too afraid to believe she could say it back. Yet, she wouldn’t be his Scully if she didn’t keep him guessing.
“Mulder, I think, we both can agree, by and large, that feelings have been involved here from the very beginning.” At that, she frames his face in return, their foreheads touching.
“There’s some pretty hard evidence here.” She looks down briefly to illustrate the point, and Mulder lets out a nervous chuckle as he follows her gaze.
“That’s quite an astute observation.” He manages to say before her lips land on his in the most sensual kiss he’s ever experienced.
“I see you, Mulder. Always.” She says tethering him with her touch and her words.
“You won’t run for the hills in the morning?”
“I won’t run for the hills in the morning.”
“OK. That quelled my fears a little bit.”
“I don’t want to wait anymore.”
“I’m totally on board with this course of action, Scully, but maybe we should dial it down a bit.” She knits her brows, clearly confused.
“I mean, you are still recovering and…” The rest of the sentence dies, as she chooses that moment to grind against him, and Mulder loses any coherent train of thought.
“You know that you can’t really leave me hanging here, Mulder. Bear in mind the potential repercussions.”
“Oh, Scully, you know how to tug at my heartstrings.”
“I’m kind of hoping to tug at something else here.”
There's some more kissing and smiling. The night is young and promising.
Much much later, in the darkness of her bedroom, they lie under the covers, their bodies satiated and limbs intertwined, and Mulder, still slightly lightheaded, asks:
“Scully, how much would you give me on a scale of ten?”
Somewhere around his armpit, she sighs tiredly, mumbling half-sleepily: “You serious?”
Her eyes are still closed and he nods quite vigorously just to let her know how damn serious he is.
“Well, I think it’s fair to say… In aggregate, I’d score you six points, Mulder.”
“Six? You kidding?”
“You can’t deny a woman four years of sex and emerge unscathed. You’ll have to make it up to me.”
“Oh, I will, Scully. Believe me, I will. Do you think we can start right now?
“Right after I get my beauty sleep. Good night, Mulder.”
“G’night, Scully. Love you.”
She doesn’t say anything in turn, and Mulder thinks that she has fallen asleep and tightens his arms around her. It's more than enough for now, he's happy as he is. The night is silent around them and he closes his eyes, ready for the sleep to claim him.
“I love you too,” breaks through the haze of his dream right before he falls asleep with a content smile on his lips.
This is The X-Files fanfiction. Read it on AO3
A light tap on the door pulls her out of her slumber. The TV is still on and Mulder is sleeping peacefully across from her on her little striped couch. Her bare feet are juxtaposed with Mulder's head, and his sock ones are dangling over the arm of the couch near her face. A silly thought - they look way too cozy with one another as if they are spouses, siblings, anyone but merely work partners – comes and goes. It reminds her of her childhood and how she used to make a beeline in the middle of the night to her parents’ bed only to find Melissa and Charlie had already been there. There wasn’t enough room for all the Scully kids, and mornings would often find Dana with her face somewhere around her sister’s feet, with her mother’s hand in her hair. Ironically enough, Bill would never join them.
When Scully frees herself off the pile of limbs and cushions to open the door, Maggie Scully greets her with a smile so bright that Dana squints at her, like the sun is shining straight at her face.
“I brought you something,” Maggie says, letting herself in and heading to the kitchen. “We need to stock up your fridge properly. Can’t let you live on anything but nice home meals.” While you are still recovering from cancer, the end of the sentence implies, but neither of them brings that up. Dana’s remission is nothing short of a miracle - still so new and fragile, and both fear to dig too deep into it, lest any careless stir can reverse it.
She joins her mother at the counter, her eyes flicking back and forth following Maggie’s hand diving into what looks like a dimensionless shopping bag, as she pulls out one Tupperware container after another.
“That’s a lot of food, Mom. Are we throwing a party to feed an entire floor?”
“Oh, dear, wasn’t it Fox I’ve just seen dozing off in the living room?”
Maggie asks in that deep mellifluous voice Dana always finds solace in, and immediately her face goes scarlet matching her flaming hair that, if one looks any closer, is quite mussed, creating the perfect ensemble with her smudged mascara and wrinkled blouse. Scully doesn’t lift her eyes off the counter to meet her mother’s half-joking but penetrating gaze. Instead, she occupies her hands with cups and tea bags.
“Well, I can’t imagine him not hanging around here with you all weekend. He’ll help you empty the fridge.” Her mother continues nonchalantly. “You hungry?”
“Not really. Mulder ordered a pizza earlier and made sure I ate at least half of it. I thought I was going to burst. Just some tea for me.”
As they finally settle at the table, Maggie reaches out to her daughter’s hand and gives her a gentle squeeze.
“How are you, Dana?”
"As strange as it sounds, I feel alive.” With delicate fingers, she grazes the golden rim of her snow-white porcelain cup.
“I feel good, Mom. To be honest, right now I have more time than I know what to do with, but as soon as Mulder lets me come back to work, I’ll make good use of that.” To a stranger, her words may sound a bit harsh as if she’s displeased with her partner’s over-protective behavior, but her mother knows better. Behind the façade of the feigned sternness, Maggie recognizes the notes of playfulness.
She can’t seem to avert her eyes from her daughter’s elegant hands, still deadly pale, with thin bluish veins running across her soft skin. For a long time, they just sit there, across from one another, sipping their tea and soaking up the comfort they find in each other. Mulder is still sleeping peacefully just across the wall, covered up with a blanket lovingly.
“You know, Dana, I didn’t believe we’d have you back.”
“Mom…”
“No, I need to let it out. After you told me that your cancer metastasized and spread to your blood flow… I didn’t see how we could have you back.”
“Neither did I, Mom.”
“You are a scientist in our family, Dana. I could see it in your eyes – the moment you gave up. That was how I knew - there wasn’t anything left to be done for you.” Maggie draws in a breath and braces herself to continue.
“Fox wouldn’t give up, though.” Her voice is quiet, careful and measured, mindful of the aforementioned partner sleeping just a few feet away.
Subconsciously, Scully turns to the living room, the corners of her lips tug up slightly.
“He wouldn’t let you go. I believed then he was ready to follow you. It was like the first time.”
“The first time?”
“When you were abducted.”
“Mom, it’s over.”
“My faith left me, Dana.” There are tears in her mother’s eyes, and Dana reaches out to pull her in a tight hug. Her strong brave mother, who, by some absurd coincidence, is doomed to outlive her beloved husband and a few of her own children. Her beautiful mother, whose faith and courage have been tested repeatedly. There’s only so much one can take.
“I don’t know how, Dana, but somewhere along the way, I lost my faith. When you were abducted, I didn’t believe you would be returned to us. And then you had, and I didn't believe you would make it. We went as far as to turn you off the life support because that was what you had stated in your will. We stayed with you to say goodbye. Fox was there too, Missy wouldn’t let him off the hook.”
“Missy?”
Maggie smiles sadly at her daughter.
“Yes. Fox wouldn’t come to join us. He thought it was wrong, that we had to fight for you. Unlike us, he still believed you could make it. I think Missy found the right words for him because, in the end, Fox was there for you. He didn’t come to say goodbye though. He came because he still had hope. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“Mulder is a dark wizard.”
“You didn’t see him then, Dana. It was like all of a sudden, his whole world fell apart. Then one day you turned up in a hospital and nobody knew anything, nobody was able to say what was wrong with you, and Fox just,” Maggie’s voice hitches and she takes another sip before she continues. “He just ran amok. Fox was devastated and dying along with you, but I didn’t think he’d have followed you. Not back then. He would have set on a journey to find everyone responsible for what had been done to you.”
Dana chooses not to interrupt, sensing her mother’s need to vent it all out.
“This time though, he would absolutely have. I’m terrified at the thought of having been so dangerously close to burying not just one, but the two of you. He was aching for you. He still does. Maybe you should let him in.”
Maggy departs, somehow leaving Scully both totally in disarray and maddeningly calm. She hadn’t the faintest what Mulder went through during her abduction. She could get some bits and pieces - from her family, case reports (her own file stored right there in one of the drawers), and occasional worried glances from Skinner. Allusions galore, but never anything specific.
While she tried to find a workaround for her trauma, Mulder was learning (by trial and error, no less!) to deal with his guilt complex – about being the reason for her abduction, about not getting to her on time, about failing time and again. Those were feeble attempts on both their sides and eventually, by unspoken agreement, they decided to ignore the matter entirely. As if it had never existed. It was easier that way. It was safer.
Even in his sleep, Mulder looks tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping for days on end, that is likely to be true - he probably hasn’t been sleeping since she was diagnosed and the tumor started growing, spreading its treacherous cells and filling her mind with uneasy thoughts. She cannot bring herself to stop contemplating whether his thick brown hair turned silver on the temples because of her. She doesn’t remember him having any gray hairs before. And that signature frown line between his brows seems to have deepened and now is defined sharply. She wants to reach out and smooth that wrinkle away from his beautiful face.
Of its own volition, her hand cups his stubbly cheek, and her thumb traces the plump bottom lip. She can’t remember when they stopped being just partners and became friends. Probably somewhere around day one. She can’t remember when she stopped wanting him to be just her friend and become her lover. Probably somewhere around year one.
Lifting his head gently off the pillow, she squeezes herself in between it and the armrest, so now his upper body rests on her lap. His long legs are bent at his knees and tucked into the cushions and Scully’s bare feet are perched on the coffee table next to the empty box of pizza and she’s stroking his hair languidly. She pulls on an invisible thread and then tucks her cool hand under the neck of his t-shirt. Mulder’s skin is soft and hot under her touch, and as she caresses the expanse of his upper back, Mulder turns his head and sighs contentedly into her stomach.
“Hey,” he mumbles. His eyes are still closed and he shifts even closer and presses Scully deeper into the cushions all the while lifting her shirt with his nose and burrowing it deep in her belly button. She makes a sound, something between a moan and a chuckle.
“It tickles.”
She doesn’t attempt to stop him, though. Puffs of warm air breeze across her skin and trails of chaste, almost imponderable kisses send tingles down her spine.
Lay the blame on her being drunk with his closeness. Lay the blame on him being under the spell of sleep.
The last remnant of doubt vanishes when Mulder’s weightless dry touches turn into bold open-mouthed kisses. She wants to be closer to him. So close that she doesn’t know where she ends, and he starts. Mulder is the only man she can ever imagine herself with, and tonight he has her undivided attention.
There’s no way to resist an uncontrollable impulse to kiss her partner. They are magnetically drawn to one another. Having Mulder by her side has become second nature to her. He’s the oxygen she can’t live without. He seeps into her skin and permeates her thoughts.
She doesn't have delusions of ever having a normal family with him, where they both do their fair share of prosaic daily routines. There’s no house with a white picket fence in that equation - Mulder offers her the basement with overfilled file cabinets and dusty shelves. Over the years she has come to appreciate everything he gives her - Fox Mulder is the constant exercise to her brain, her guide and mentor, her best friend and platonic lover. He's the butterflies in her stomach and goosebumps over her skin.
Sometimes it feels like too much, and she wants to rip him off like the band-aid and expose herself to the world outside Mulder’s suffocating presence. That she did a couple of times before, only to realize that she had lost sight of herself not because of him, but without him. The air Mulder doesn’t breathe with her chokes her, and when the need to fill her lungs with Eau de Fox Mulder becomes unbearable, she calls his number. “Mulder, it’s me.”
“What are we doing, Scully.” He stops and lifts on one elbow, his face is level with her chest.
“We are… celebrating?” She asks unsure, one hand still tangled in his silky waves.
“Celebrating what?”
Everything and nothing in particular, she wants to say. Every day is a holiday now since we are alive. And so she says it.
“That I want to celebrate.” Mulder agrees.
“I think we deserve it."
Her eyes roam his handsome face, delicate fingers stroke the rough shadow of his jaw.
“I want it.”