He shuffles about in her foyer feeling a bit useless, hands deep in his jacket pockets. Scully's luggage is already packed and loaded into his car to be taken to the airport, and she'd already been wearing her coat when she'd hurriedly let him in, so there's nothing much he can assist with at this point. She had said five minutes, and as a woman of her word she will likely be done in four minutes and thirty-five seconds, so he kills time by wandering around glancing at her immaculately decorated apartment.

He's seen most of it through its developing stages of yuletide cheer, having happily played a part in contributing to most of it. However Scully possesses that magic skill of effortlessly adding some tasteful extra flourish. She's added a few plastic bulbed candles in the windows, strung a length of faux evergreen garland atop her kitchen cabinets. She's even laid out some holly-bedecked placemats beneath all her houseplants. He spots a tiny little menorah on her hearth, and whether it's there by Scully's doing or possibly her mother's, he can't help but be quietly touched by her acknowledgement of his often familial ignored faith.

He hears the soft thud of her heeled footfalls coming from her bedroom and turns to see her stuffing a couple of items into her travel handbag. He feels a little stab of guilt knowing that once again she's going alone to the Scully clan for Christmas. He knows she's disappointed that he's decided not to come after all, especially when it was established that the family destination is San Diego this year. He can't bring himself to face her family, can't bring himself to watch Bill remind Scully of all the ways he has wronged her and wronged the people she loves. Perhaps it's selfish, but he doesn't have the strength to let his presence bring her that kind of pain.

That's why he says no every year.

"All set?" he asks, reaching out to move a lock of hair trapped beneath the collar of her unzipped coat. She nods, a crease of concentration between her brows which he knows is a sign of her obsessively going over everything in her mind to verify she hasn't forgotten anything.

"Please don't—"

"Forget to call you, I know, Mulder," she squeezes his bicep, "I will be fine. Let's head out, we have just enough time for me to be there two hours early."

He obliges by opening the door for her, when something incidentally catches his eye and he pauses, feeling a rush of blood surge to his chest.

"Scully, is that—" he peers up at it, recognizes the unmistakable flora of a classic Christmas plant, "Do my eyes deceive me, or is that mistletoe above your doorway?"

"Oh, I—" Her eyes widen in something akin to mortification and he has to work very hard not to laugh. God, she's blushing. She looks so sweet and holdable in that plush cream sweater that he's never seen her wear before and he dearly hopes he'll see it again. She keeps trying to meet his eyes and then shyly looks away while doing that irresistible Scully thing where she fails to suppress a smile. He's so utterly smitten right now and if he doesn't kiss her he thinks he might actually die.

"You weren't—" she haltingly stammers and it makes her even more impossibly adorable, "—supposed to see that."

"Weren't supposed to see that?" he parrots, and he feels his confidence rise with each moment she tries to act nonchalant about this. He's known her long enough to be well aware that when it comes to her heart, his partner is a terrible, terrible liar.

"You have something with the pizza guy I don't know about?" he continues to tease, enjoying her squirming and now starting to slowly advance toward her.

"Well not...you weren't supposed to see it, not now," she whispers, "I was hoping after you picked me up at the airport when I came back you'd maybe missed me enough that—Oh hell, I don't know what I was thinking, it was dumb and I don't even think I was serious about it."

Oh bless her. Bless her beautiful practical little heart for thinking he'd have to miss her to want to press his lips against that delectably intelligent mouth. He smiles, pressing his palm against her satin cheek, and they're back in his hallway those two years ago. Except this time while she intends to leave he also knows she intends to return, there aren't tears of grief in her eyes, and he's pretty damn sure there isn't a cursed bee hidden away in her collar to rob them of this moment.

And with everything to gain with quite a lot to lose, Fox Mulder kisses his partner.

He feels her melt a little in his arms, her body swaying foward into his and he has just enough wherewithal to wrap his arms around her middle to keep her close. He draws back a touch, giving her a chance to depart from his kiss but all she does is tilt her head back a bit and breathes out a soft little sigh. He dips in for another and this time she responds as well as receives, pressing her mouth to his with a tantalizing sound deep in her throat.

"I'd love to stay," he whispers against her upper lip, "But I have to drop my partner off at the airport." She lets out a precious grumble of disdain.

"Let her wait," she quips, and he's enchanted by her nip of humor while their relationship is in the midst of a tectonic shift forward. Alas, as much as he would love to stay in her entryway and kiss the afternoon away, he would hate to keep her from her family. Let Bill try to manipulate that into a selfish move.

"Let's go," he pecks her one last time, moving regretfully away, "I'd hate for you to miss your plane. I promise I'll call you after you land."

"Promise?" her lower lip perks forward in a small pout. His face hurts from smiling.

"I promise."

"AAA says they should be here in two hours, minimum," Mulder shivers, tucking his cell phone back into the pocket of his coat as he clambers his long form back into their rental car. He brushes as much snow and ice as he can off his sleeves and slacks before he tucks himself into the driver's seat, but it's a bit of a hopeless case—the wind has already blown in a few gusts of powdery white stuff everywhere.

They'd been driving for just over three hours, heading back to the airport following the conclusion of their last case before the start of holiday leave. The snow, which had just been a slight flurry with slush on the roads and sidewalks in the beginning, had culminated into an outright blizzard just as they were about to reach metropolis. Between the questionable steering and their less than adequate weather tires in such conditions, they'd gotten stuck turning at a four-way intersection and the car had gotten lodged in a snow bank all together. They were still an hour out from the airport with no other means of transportation in the current climate, and it was getting late.

"They said they'll do their best to get here sooner, but with the storm they're obviously getting a lot of calls," he blew on his chapped hands, trying to get feeling back in his fingers.

"I'm glad we stopped at that last Arco," Scully says, glancing briefly at the needle of their nearly full fuel gauge, "At least we can be warm while we wait."

"Scully—"

"Gosh Mulder it could be so much worse," she interjects before he can even begin to apologize, unzipping her little purse to fish out a tube of chapstick, "I'm not thrilled about missing our flight but we'll find another one. We have plenty of gas in the tank to keep us warm until the tow truck can get to us."

She sounds so genuine, so unaffected by their current fairly negative situation that against character he believes her and lets go of his impending self-castigation. He watches her silently as she pulls the sun shade down to access the mirror and hydrate that lovely, well-spoken mouth in the hazy glow of the cabin light. While she is occupied he unabashedly stares at her, noting with charm her slightly frizzy hair, those endearing freckles she tries oh so hard to conceal.

She's so beautiful, he thinks about her for the 2,482nd time in his life. She glances at him unexpectedly and for one terrifying moment he's worried that he spoke that last thought out loud, but she only looks at him to wordlessly offer her Carmex to him. He shakes his head no appreciatively.

He's grateful Scully makes no verbal objection to him switching to a mellow smooth jazz station and feels his spirits perk up as he recalls they still have a handful of odd gas station-purchased snacks sitting in the back seat if they get particularly hungry. They've been in far worse stranded situations than this, although despite the blasting streak of tropical air coming from the heater he can see Scully shivering in his peripheral. He watches her rub her palms over her thighs vigorously, feeling bad for her even as he begins perspiring beneath his crew neck tee shirt.

She's been a little bit better in the last six months about using the word "fine" around him, and he's been a little bit better about pushing when she does use it, and maybe that's why he feels what he's about to do is okay.

"Here," he says quietly, and before he can even think about it, he takes both her hands between his, blowing on them and rubbing them gently between his own. Her knuckles are a little scratchy but the rest of her skin is soft and smooth and he finds himself thoughtfully passing the pad of his thumb over each of her delicate fingers. He chances a glance at her and his heart aches when he sees the look of pleased surprise on her face from this simple touch.

"Better?" he tosses his best lopsided, boyish grin that he suspects she can't resist. If it weren't for the cold he'd wonder if the pink on her cheeks was a flush.

"Much," she gives him a close lipped smile.

"So hey um..." he puffs out a nervous breath between pursed lips as he concentrates on rubbing her hands (Rubbing isn't stroking, right? This is perfectly platonic.), "The guys invited me next week for a kind of poker night cum holiday party...usually it's just some fruit punch and some snacks. Maybe some holiday-themed Dungeons and Dragons, I don't know. They do it every year and invite all their friend, I was wondering if you'd like to come along."

"All their 'friend'?" she clarifies, an entertained twitch ghosting the corner of her mouth.

"Well, me mostly. I'm the friend," he grins, "Although I'm pretty sure they'd love to have a girl join the party. They all like you, I'm willing to bet you wouldn't even need an invitation."

She seems touched by this information, almost as if she wasn't aware of it until presently and he's suddenly struck by—as a woman with virtually unparalleled intelligence and experience—how artless she can be about herself sometimes.

"I'd love to come," she says finally, "You'll have to tell me what kind of food stuff they'd like. Move your arm."

"Huh?"

"Move your arm," she repeats, "Your hands feel nice but I'm cold. I can practically feel the damn heat radiating off you, lift."

Awkwardly, with some confusion over what she means, he lets go of her hands and slowly raises the arm closest to her as she requests. She unbuckles her seat belt and his heartbeat sky rockets from "resting" to "lactate threshold" level as she carefully situates herself over the center console to nestle up against him. His heart still galloping, he allows his arm to slowly drift back down to rest naturally over her shoulders, satisfied that this is what she wants when she sighs with a little satisfied hum.

"Definitely better," she smiles. He's afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe. Scully never seeks out closeness in this way, in calm or in peace. They've shared the occasional hug for a birthday and of course for comfort or a way to combat trauma or grief. Never...never just because. Even if it is under the guise of being too cold. He hardly knows what to do with himself.

He flashes briefly on the thought of how good it would feel to hold her just because he can, warm and safe in her bed while an uncharacteristic winter storm in D.C. blusters outside her apartment window. Her room would be uncharacteristically cold in this fantasy, obviously forcing her to press as much of her chilled little body against his as possible. Maybe the tip of her nose would be cold and he'd need to kiss it to make sure it didn't get frostbite. Maybe despite his best efforts she'd still wouldn't be warm enough and she'd have to wear a pair of his sweatpants, or maybe one of his sweatshirts. Maybe he'd be able to convince her to let him go just long enough to make her a nice scalding cup of coffee or a hot bowl of that nasty oatmeal she professes to love so much. Or maybe run her a bath...that he could share with her...

He nestles his chin against the top of her head, feeling the lovely heat of her body and the press of her comforting weight against his shoulder. Perhaps he can't hold her the way he wants to, but he certainly can hold her now.

AAA arrives 45 minutes later and he's never been so disappointed that they've come that quickly.

Passing the Time

While waiting for labs at the hospital, Scully helps Mulder pass the time.

Fictober day 6. Prompt: That's All? Easy.

For my dear friend Ingrid. 💓

February 7, 2018 George Washington Memorial Hospital 

“How much longer did they say?” Mulder asked Scully as she closed the door and rejoined him in the hospital’s waiting area. 

“Twenty minutes at least,” she replied and he sighed heavily.

“We’ve already been waiting for two hours.” 

“Lab work takes time. You know that.” 

“I do,” he said with a nod. “I also know that we’ve been out of the game for a while. Maybe there were advancements while we were away.” 

“Excuse me?” she asked, picking up a random magazine as she sat down. “We haven’t been away from anything. You have. I worked in a hospital until very recently, remember? I am aware how long labs can take.” 

Pizza Party

msr | s5 | words: 920

It is not, by any means, a party. At least it wasn’t when Mulder came up with the idea.

He has been wanting to eat healthier, but coaxing Scully to eat—a task that has somehow become as important as solving cattle mutilation—has made him see that he needs better eating habits.

He’s not 24 anymore.

My exchange fic for @ingridgradient ! I hope you like it😅

False Front

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic CW: suggestion of possible rape / sexual assault (from canon) written for the X-Files Flicked Switch Fanfic Exchange

He’s doing everything, every single thing he can think of, but Mulder’s getting nowhere and he knows it. He blusters around Skinner’s office, he fires off orders to the Gunmen, he drives back to her apartment and searches over every square inch. Of course he calls her cell countless times. You never know when she might be able to pick up.

It’s actually the cell phone that finally does it, that makes him give up on her apartment and go home.

He’s on the floor methodically sorting the contents of her wastepaper basket—tissues, an empty tube of makeup, two endearing chocolate wrappers—when Frohike calls and tells him that it appears that the signal never actually left her building.

He finds the phone in her desk drawer. Turned off. Silent. It’s devastating. All day it has been absorbing his diligent calls here in this drawer. Not anywhere near her.

Mulder closes the desk drawer slowly, observing absently that his hands are trembling. He locks up her apartment and walks out to his car. He’s been through this so many times now, a familiar refrain: she’s gone, maybe forever, he has to bring her back, he has no idea how. It only gets harder. Because one of these times they won’t figure it out. One of these times the worst is bound to come true.

XxX

“So should we…”

“No.”

“You really don’t want to talk about it?”

“Mulder…” Her tone held a warning as they stalked down the prison hallway.

“I mean, I feel like it should at least be discussed in a hypothetical sense…” He twitched his mouth, trying to bite back his smile, “Hypothetically, if I hadn’t—”

“Th-there’s nothing to discuss! Hypothetical or not, nothing happened.”

“FBI 101, Scully: Communication is the foundation for a lasting partnership.” He popped the door handle and pushed open the door. Scully rolled her eyes as she walked under his arm.

“Nothing happened.” She reiterated, snatching her gun from the guard and slamming it into her holster.

Mulder savored the moment; her nervous eyes constantly shifting to anything and everything that wasn’t him and her little pink tongue sneaking out every now and again between her red lips. He so had her.

“I mean, you weren’t even slightly suspicious to find me at your door with a cheap bottle of wine wanting to have a heart-to-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed, still refusing to meet his, “Mulder…” Another warning that would go unheeded.

“Come on, Scully, did you really think it was me?”

His cheeky grin faltered when her soul’s windows accidentally stumbled across his; she wasn’t quick enough though and even he couldn’t miss what their oceanic depths revealed.

No, but I wanted it to be.

Mulder cleared his throat as he focused on holstering his Glock, not having expected this turn of events. In an instant his boyish amusement was cut to the quick, leaving him vulnerable and inapt. His expression grew sardonic as Danger, Will Robinson! played over and over in his head.

Scully tried salvaging it with a smile, “We should head out, it’s getting late.”

And, just like that, he had his out.

“Ah, hot date with an autopsy report?” Humor was forever his shield, carefully fashioned around him like armor. It was one of the things that intrigued her most about him; if given the choice, he always went for defense over offense.

A familiar playfulness teased her and she leaned into it, “Yeah, thought I’d live a little. You should try it sometime.”

“Funny, very funny, Scully. Just make sure to use protection. Don’t want you getting any paper cuts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. His comeback was something a twelve-year-old would say, it made no sense really, and yet she laughed just the same to his great delight.

And with that, they pulled through the awkwardness of the moment and returned to their normal stride; the honest exchange long forgotten.

Except, it was far from forgotten.

No, the truth simply lied dormant, tucked safely within the crevices of their separate hearts. Laying just below the calmed surface, it waited to rouse on another day, another case when they both least expected it.

XxX

(more m x s)

by Darwin_xf

A post-Milagro snippet of a much longer work. The episode hinted this was a turning point for them. I made it happen.

Chapter 10 of VMFW

Words: 694, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Please leave the author a comment if you enjoyed their story 😘

by Phillip_Padgett

She wants more, more, more. More of him. More of this. More of feeling good. More of being good.

Words: 1385, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Creature of Habit

msr | s3 | words: 470

She has always thought that he’d flirt with everything that moves and can look good in a skirt. It’s a habit, and Mulder is a creature of habit. He orders the same club sandwich with fries and iced tea from the corner diner for three years and counting.

Creature of habit. She too finds herself to become one as well, one that is trained by a master of flirtation.

His always go-to line for her is what are you wear, Scully?

So it’s only natural for her to get into the habit of saying, where are you, Mulder?

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The Wonder That’s Keeping the Stars Apart, Chapter 2/3

Rated Teen | Read it here on AO3

He doesn’t move in the twenty-plus minutes that Scully is in the bathroom. He stays rooted to the very spot she left him, one hand resting on the countertop for balance as he listens to her muffled sobs through the door.

His mind runs over and over through an endless loop, wondering if he should have told her in another way, should have told her sooner, shouldn’t have told her at all. He considers knocking, considers leaving, considers calling her mother, but he does none of these things. He just stands there, waiting for some indication as to what she needs from him.

Without warning, the door snaps open and she walks out, head bowed. He watches as she returns to the kitchen and picks up her abandoned glass, sucking down the remains in three gulps before she pours another. She isn’t looking at him, but he can see that her eyes are red and swollen, the skin on her cheeks mottled and damp. In solidarity, he picks up his own glass and swallows it down, and she wordlessly refills it.

“I want to know everything,” she says suddenly, her voice hoarse. “Every detail. All of it.”

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The X-Files Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully, Diana Fowley/Fox Mulder Characters: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Diana Fowley Additional Tags: Mulder and scully at odds, the fricken fowl one, Episode: s05e20 The End (X-Files) Summary:

Prompt: “In the The End, Mulder, Scully, and Diana are all in the car together on their way to see Gibson. I’d love to see more detail from this scene. There’s so much tension floating between everyone. Maybe Mulder gets out to get gas in a busy part of town and Diana dives into a deeper conversation with Scully about Mulder. Maybe they get stuck in a traffic jam and Scully prods them with more questions. ”

BRILLIANT 

Field Evaluations

Author: @unremarkablehouse​ For: snow_and_rain Following the journey of Scully’s field evaluations through the eyes of her friend Frank at the Gun range. Ao3 Link

#XF1in5Billion2023 26/33

“Dreams Are Made Of This” by @baronessblixen​

November 15th, 2018

Scully loses herself in daydreams and accidentally kisses Mulder.

890 words

T+, Fluff, UST

IVF Arc

Link

Favorite Part

Mulder worrying about the IVF when Scully calls trying to apologize for kissing him.

Memorable Quote

There’ve Been Good Things, Too

author: storybycorey

rating: mild NC-17

summary:  This was my entry into the @xfpornbattle fic contest POV category, but since that was originally anonymous, now I’m posting it here on my own blog!

It’s witnessed a lot for a couch.  A lot, a lot, a lot.  Depravity, desperation, death. Much more than a typical piece of value-priced furniture would expect from a lifetime.

But there’ve been good things, too.  Tenderness and trust. Passion.

Dark green leather.  Not black, no, though at a glance some may make that mistake. Deep forest green, its tag had read.  Clearance, its tag had also read, $299! The man rented a Uhaul that day and paid a couple teenage guys from the building $10 each to help him navigate the stairwell.

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