Chapter 1: Part I
Mulder was very much awake tonight.
Lying on his back on the couch usually drove him to use his overactive imagination. Tonight was just like any other; it’s just that his mind was hyper-focused on other things.
The case in Oregon went well, in his opinion. Scully was witness to what she claimed to be impossible. A small part of him said it would take a hell of a lot more proof before she’d admit to it, but she was partially on board… in some way, at least. He remembers explicitly the way she stared at Billy Miles during his hypnosis interview, and the blank, stern state of her face. Rationality and Science, it seemed, were her best friends and they left no room for others. Including him. Her husband.
But not for long, huh?
Was it wrong to want the company of a beautiful woman who looked at him as if he wasn't nuts? And it honestly didn’t occur to him that she’d want to break this… contract. It was really just a piece of paper, of which was sitting in his desk drawer and had been since he moved here. It left a strange feeling in his chest. And he, being the “big” profiler he was suppose to be, couldn’t figure it out.
No. Actually he very well could put name to his emotions. He just didn’t want to voice it.
Mulder sighed and scanned his silent apartment. The TV was on and the volume turned off, glowing from some cheesy game show he didn’t know the name of. It was time to get off his ass and work, he decided.
He put on a cup of coffee to brew and took a shower, dressed in his suit and with his drink in hand left for the office. It was late, but there were still a few people milling about in the building. Passing the bullpen on his way to the elevator, some nameless agent called out and said, “Burning the midnight oil, Spooky?”
“Graveyard shift,” he jibed.
Mulder sat at his desk with files around him, scowling. The file on Miles had seemingly vanished. Or, he thought more seriously, taken from him. Keeping his annoyance poorly in check he picked up the phone and called Skinner’s desk. His secretary picked up and took up his question, “Where’s the file on Billy Miles?”
“I’m sorry, Agent Mulder. It’s not here.”
He hung up by smacking the phone down. He took a deep breath, and picked it up once more, this time typing the number to the D. A.’s office in Raymond County. “Do you have the case file on Billy Miles?”
“Sorry, Agent Mulder. No file.”
Fucking hell, he thought. Damn them. Why did he work for the government again?
In a way it made sense. They had no way to proof of what happened, besides Billy or his father, or Theresa or her father. What could stop them from taking all the things they had on this eye-opening case? Nothing. Nada.
Mulder worked on calming down. He tried to take a deep breath, then another, then another, until his heart stopped racing with anger and frustration. They had no right to take this from him, from his work, but he’d expected it. It just furthered the proof to the truth, and what they were trying to hide. What they were keeping from him.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and picked up the phone for a third time.
It rang what felt like ages until she answered.
“Hello?” She responded sleepily, her voice sounding like cool silk against his nerves. He calmed down tremendously.
“Scully? It’s me. I haven’t been able to sleep… I talked to the D.A.’s office in Raymond County, Oregon. There’s no case file on Billy Miles. The paperwork we filed is gone. We need to talk, Scully.”
They had a lot to talk about.
She was silent for a long time. “Y… yes. Tomorrow.”
A tense silence filled the air again. Then she hangs up, and he gently sets the phone down, too.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
Mulder paced his living room. His partner/(soon-to-be-ex?)wife would come in at any second and he needed to get his shit together.
The main focus was on the Oregon case. It wasn’t something that could just be brushed aside—yet, he knew, he was helpless in the situation.
Secondly... He sighed deeply.
The night they met felt like yesterday. Despite being rather baked, he remembers the moment he laid his eyes on this petite woman. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, shining a fiery red in the bar’s low lighting. The red of her lips, the lace of her dress, hugging her curves like a glove. Sexy, for sure, but the shrewd look of intelligence shown in her eyes glowed like sapphire. Before he could ask if he could buy her a drink, she went up to him and said under her breath, “Woo, boy.”
They spoke for what felt like ages. They spoke for what felt like a mere five minutes. When he brought up the notion of marriage, and its often overlooked benefits, she was shockingly acceptant of the idea.
Which was how he found himself rutting into her like some dog fucking a bitch in heat, barely lasting as long as he should have with this new, wee wife of his. The taste of her honey on his tongue, her slick body rubbing against his chest, his pants twisted around his knees, her dress ripped in half.
Mulder reached into his jeans pocket. The tiny, thin band of rosy gold felt warm there. Like she had just taken it off seconds ago.
When he examined it, he found the tell-tale signs of a well-worn object. It didn’t look as new as when he bought it. Small nicks and marks—she had worn this ring for the seven years they were apart. But they were never really together, were they? Divorce. What an odd word for this. They barely spoke to each other during the years, yet—why did he feel as if he was losing something?
When he heard the soft knock on his front door he scrambled to answer it.
And there she stood. Like some little warrior woman standing before a battle moments before the attack. Her bright blue eyes met his in an instant.
Today she was dressed in a professional black pencil skirt and a sharp-shouldered suit jacket. Her plump pouty rich lips looked… well, good enough to kiss. Lipstick smudges be damned.
But as his mother raised him, he was a gentleman and just invited her inside. “Morning, Scully,” he said, clicking the door shut behind her, then locking it. She stared him for a brief moment as if picking him apart with her eyes, but looked away and studied his apartment. Suddenly he felt very conscious. Probably because of the small stack of adult magazines on his coffee table. Let’s hope she doesn’t go into my “bedroom”.
“Some bachelor pad,” she commented as if she could read his mind.
He let out a light laugh. Perhaps they should’ve met at her place, but early this morning she called to ask for his address. “Um—do you want something to drink?”
She took a moment for she answered. “Coffee, if you have any. That would be nice.”
Nodding, he went into his kitchen and put together the things they needed. Scully was still observing her surroundings, making note of this and that. When she was talking about how new his pots looked (they were older than they looked, actually. He just rarely, if he ever did, cook), he let his perverted eyes roam her form. Despite how blocky her suits made her seem, he knew what she was hiding beneath all the professional uniforms. Even now, he could make out the curves of her hips and thighs, and her tits that fix perfectly in his palms. A part of him wanted to make some feigned piggish comment on how she should be the one making the coffee in his kitchen.
His eyes were still ogling her boobs when she let out a sharp throat-clearing. He jolted and met her eyes, which were giving him quite the look.
He made the coffee in silence from then on out.
Yet he swore he could feel eyes on him the whole time. What did she see in me, I
wonder; just another man in a Knicks shirt and jeans that should’ve been washed a week ago? Probably.
Mugs filled, they made there way to the couch. They sat on opposite ends.
“You wanted to speak with me?” She asked out of the blue. Mulder looked up from the spot he’d been staring at in his aquarium.
“Yeah. The report you wrote. It’s gone.”
She gave him a hard look over the rim of her mug. “What do you mean, “gone”?”
“I mean,” he said seriously, “it’s nonexistent. Like it never happened.”
“Well obviously it happened, Mulder. I spoke to Belvins just yesterday and handed him everything. Told him everything.”
“Exactly,” he exclaimed, straightening up. “They know the truth. We both know it. They’re just—“
Her eyes rolled so hard he wondered if they would turn back into her head. “What ‘truth’ Mulder? Aliens? I’m sorry, there’s just no tangible evidence for that.”
He wanted to groan. And so he did. “You were there, Scully! You saw it! The lights and the—”
“What I saw was some fear-induced, trick of the light mishap— There’s no—“
Good gods above, where did this little woman come from? Would the seemingly paranormal diminution she crawled out of just for the sake of giving him hell accept her if he threw her back? Would it let him wrap his arms around her and keep her by his side forever?
Before she could even finish her rant on the “logicalness”, he grabbed the sides of her neck and yanked her in for a kiss.
She pulled away from him with a gasp, staring wide-eyed at him as if he’d done the most scandalous thing imaginable.
And then her lips were right back on his.
Do you guys like my quick small updates? Or do ya'll prefer longer chapters despite a longer wait period?
Chapter 3: Part III
Scully was molten lava, Mulder decided.
“Oh,” she moaned, throwing her head back, her pale throat exposed to the air. Unable to ignore her, he latched onto her neck, sucking and licking and nipping until her skin was marked with him, him, him. Grunting, he pulled away just to return to watching her bounce on his lap.
Her tits, her body, her hair, everything writhing and shaking—he grunted again, unable to watch the phenomenon happening between them. His cock, pumping in and out, in and out, in and out of her tight, juicy pussy. “Oh, oh my god,” she cried out louder, rotating her hips with each rapid rise and fall of her pelvis. “God, I’m coming—“
“Shit, Scully,” he hissed, gripping her hips harder, her nails digging into his shoulders. His release was approaching a hundred miles a second, and Scully was sweating and moaning and happily trying to break her back to bring on her second climax. Intent on making her come again, he took his right thumb and jammed it into her clit. She screamed out and shook herself harder atop him. Flushed all over, it seemed, going as red as her hair, she said his name as her inner walls quivered around him.
Her honey was getting all over him—her stickiness smearing all over his bare thighs and lower belly. Mixed with the sweat dripping from every pore, it was an extremely hot and wet mess. And he fucking loved it. His balls drew up again, and unable to stave it off, he yanked her in for a passionate kiss as he pulsed inside of her.
It took a total of seven minutes before either felt like moving.
Scully began to stir against him, breaking the quiet between them.
He leans back against the couch, thighs spread as she sat awkwardly atop him, her little feet by his knees and her knees splayed out on either side of him. Mulder didn’t want to break this (whatever it was), as he clutched her small bare frame to his chest. Arms locked around her slim waist, he could feel her bones and muscles move beneath her soft skin as she shifted. His limp dick still in her.
“Oh,” she whined, and he could practically feel her joints creak. “I—“
He knew what she needed before she could say it. Sore himself, he moved so he could help move her. Instantly, he slipped out of her and a gush of fluids followed, spilling onto his legs and the couch. If he was ten years younger he knew he’d be hard again from the sight.
Together, they manage to settle her on the couch, head on the armrest. She gazes back at him with an unreadable expression, her cheeks flushed and her wild red hair looking like a halo around her head. Naked, spread out, freshly fucked and still dripping wet. The light from the morning sun shined off her skin. He hadn’t seen her nude in the daytime before. The sight stole his breath.
Her kiss-swollen lips opened to say to him, “Is this that talk you wanted to have?” in the most monotone voice he’d ever heard from her that he had to throw his head back and laugh heartily.
“Ah, no,” he admitted, kissing her raised knee, “but that was pretty damn hot, G-woman.”
“You started it,” she said, almost grouchy. But at this point, he knew a sexually satisfied Scully was a rather pliable yet curious creature.
He studied her again. If he didn’t feel so unsure of himself at the moment it wouldn’t be long until he would be up for round two. It must’ve shown because suddenly her left foot was rubbing against his twitching cock. “You’re a boy in more ways than one, Mulder.”
The sudden insecurity about his skills in the sack were soothed with, “Grown men typically need a little longer before experiencing a second erection after ejaculation so soon. Grown men also don’t go chasing,” he gasped as he toes flexed against the head of his penis, “the products of science fiction.”
Her words were meant to be less than sexy, he knew, but the sound of her voice paired with the sight of her naked body, still leaking his cum, spurred his blood back to his groin. Her toes clutched his head, and twisted, making him groan lowly as what felt like a nail scrapped the slit. He didn’t have a foot fetish but he was pretty sure any part of Dana Katherine Scully’s body was a turn on.
He glanced at her. Something, he felt, was different about her.
“Did you cut your hair?”
Her face went blank. “You’re just now noticing?”
Despite his sudden “typical man” observation, as she put it, it was a phone call that tore them out of their (marital?) world-be-damned bliss. It was, of all people, his mother. He glanced at Scully beside him in a panic. The last thing he needed was to be talking to Teena Mulder while his supposed wife was trying to give him a foot-job. Hastily telling the woman who gave birth to him that he’ll call back later, he hung up and joked that it was some pizza place offering a special deal.
She either didn’t buy it or her better senses caught up to her, for this little incident breaks their intimate bubble. Wordlessly, she collected her clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom. Nope, he said to himself, there would be no round two.
Mulder slumped against the couch with a loud sigh, his erection dying slowly and making no move to get off again. Today had been some fluke, as that night in Bellefleur had been. So he tried not to listen to her after-care ritual in his bathroom, and instead went for some damp paper towels to clean his couch. Not that he really minded. It’s likely he’ll be jacking off to the smell of her on his cushions tonight.
As he was wiping away the evidence, he spotted something white under his coffee table.
Ah, he thought to himself, suddenly and absurdly delighted. She’d forgotten her panties. Oooh. The sight alone was better than his magazines. He wondered if Scully minded his porn stash, but then again, he wasn't really a married man, was he? Unashamed of his sexuality, he brought the chaste garment to his nose and smelled the dampness on the crotch.
Speaking of Scully, he heard her call out, “Mulder, are my un—ugh, hold on.” She came out a few seconds later, fully dressed (without underwear, he thought leeringly). “Have you seen my…” She swallowed.
“These?” He asked with his best lascivious look as he raised her panties in the air, swinging them on his index finger.
“Give me those!” She exclaimed, snatching them from him with a red face. “Why, I—“ Scully shook her head. “I have to go. I have a class to teach in an hour.”
“You’re still teaching?” He asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yes. I need something to do when I’m not following y—“ She sighed. “Belvins wants me to continue to work with you. This,” she motioned between them, “cannot get in the way of work. Do you understand?”
He nodded lamely.
“We can meet up again for you to sign the papers. If our marriage ever comes up at all we’ll have proof that it’s no longer valid. Naturally, we have other forms of proof that might as well annul it. We haven’t been toget—“
“I know,” he said, raising a hand. “I’ll be available, trust me.”
This information seemed to somewhat surprise her. He didn’t ask what she was thinking, but before he knew it he was showing her the door and saying goodbye. He couldn’t help but get satisfaction in watching her stuff her panties in her purse.
He didn’t hear from her for another three days. She called to say she had the papers ready; can he meet her at this place at that time? He can't, he lies. He’s got a doctor's appointment.
When Mrs. Budahas’s kidnapping report came across his desk early that next day, he seizes the opportunity.
The moment he gathers all the information and obvious sighs to extraterrestrial activity, he calls Scully to tell her they had a case. It goes to voicemail, to both his disappointment and relief, so he leaves a message for her to meet him at some bar that’s frequented by other agents.
She wouldn’t pull out divorce papers in the light of day with familiar faces around, right?
Still, he hastily left the office and ran to get a few things, unaware of the man following him.
Chapter 4: Part IV
There is dialogue from the second episode within this chapter.
He saw her sitting inside the bar, perched at the counter with her long, feminine legs crossed at the knee. Her skirt-suit (is that what they were called? He’d no idea) looked good on her.. Mulder smiled as he watched her check her watch, before looking down to read over what he guessed was paperwork.
He slipped inside and waltzed up to her, feeling giddy in the moment. Her, lovely and studious as always, with a juicy case just waiting for the taking. Not as juicy as her honeypot, but still—
Swooping up next to her, she perks up and meets his eyes. “Hi,” she greets, “I got your message.”
“Sorry for the run around. Can I buy you a drink, honeybunch?”
She glared. “It’s two-o-clock in the afternoon, Agent Mulder.”
Ah. Still insisting to be professional despite having let him ravish her on his couch just days ago.
“It’s not stopping the rest of these people,” he joked. “I got something to show you.”
“Something you couldn’t show me at work.”
He smiled. “Let’s get a table.”
It felt nice to be with her outside of a work-related environment. They have, since that fateful day a little more than a week ago, been in places outside of the Hoover building, not to mention the motel, or his apartment; this place was public, though. It felt like a date.
It felt like that night seven years ago.
Too busy to watch his surroundings, he herded his little wife to a table, temporarily not caring who saw them.
He pulled out the files and showed them to her, explained the Budahas’s predicament, the Ellens Air Base in Southwest Idaho. The psychotic episode, the barricading, the military police. Mulder was on the tip of his toes in anticipation for Scully’s response.
When he tells her there has been no investigation, she gives him a blank look and says, “So?”
“So, you and I, are going to the spud state to investigate a little kidnapping.”
“I don’t get it Mulder,” she says. “Does this have something to do with an X-File? I thought you only liked those… paranormal type cases. Am I missing something here?”
He wants to laugh. “Let’s just say, this case has a… distinct smell to it. A paranormal bouquet.” And it did. He smelled it from a mile away. When he felt his bladder begin to bother him, he stands up and excuses himself. Running around getting the materials for the file hadn’t given him a chance to use the restroom. With his words spoken, and to let his wife/partner digest his spiel, he goes to relieve himself.
While Mulder washes his hands, he thinks about the nature of his relationship with Scully.
Granted they were, technically, married. That alone gave room for a closeness Mulder had never really experience. Pathetically enough he wanted that. Wanted it with her.
But he wouldn’t be surprise that in the second they leave this place she’ll thrust the divorce papers into his face. Was there a medical illness he could fake to get out of signing it? Maybe he could collapse when he sees it and blame it on a heart attack. That would certainly change directions.
Yet how much of a looser was he? Already sad to see his wife go, when really he didn’t know her all that well. Were her parents alive? Was she close to them? Did she have siblings? Was she religious? Hell, what was her favorite color? He could bet all his savings to say she didn’t even know he was colorblind. The only way he knew she was a redhead was because of what her personal information said on file. And his co-workers ”Did you see Agent Scully today? Hot!” “You mean the Ice Queen?” “Yeah, the short redhead.”
Mulder shook his head. He was an idiot. Trying to wash his thoughts away he splashed water on his face, hoping it would cool him down. Huffing, he stood up and looked at himself in the mirror.
Another man’s gaze meets his in the glass.
He turns around, laying eyes on this older man, who apparently had something to say to him.
“Leave this case alone, Agent Mulder.”
Well, shit. “What?”
“The military will not tolerate an FBI investigation.”
“Who are you?”
“I…” he paused. “Can be of help to you. I’ve had a certain interest in your work.”
Someone knocks on the door, but it’s locked. Mulder turns back to the older man. “How do you know about my work?”
“Well, let’s just say that I’m in a position to know quite a lot of things about our government.”
Every nerve in his body shoots out warning signals. “Who are you?” He asks again. “Who do you work for?”
“It’s unimportant. I came here to give you some valuable advise. You are exposing yourself and your wife to—“
“W—How do you know about that?”
“—unnecessary risk.” He finishes with firmness. “I strongly advise you to drop the case.”
“I—“ Mulder stutters “I can’t do that.”
“You have much work to do, Agent Mulder…” He unlocks the bathroom door. “You’re jeopardizing the future of your own efforts”
But the man leaves. Scared half-shitless and furious, he attempts to chase the man out of the room. Someone else keeps him from bolting out, though, and when he finally makes it way back into the bar the man is no where in sight.
Scully, still at the table, stands and approaches him like a person might approach a frightened deer. “You ok, Mulder?”
He gulps. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Chapter 5: Part V
Sorry I've been MIA these past weeks. Life got in the way and then I got sick. Got better, wrote this within a night, and boom. Here.
Also, this is a series so more will be added... just... don't kill me...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
They were looking up at the sky, jaws dropped and in aw, confusion, whatever—he couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at but it was pretty damn incredible. He looked to his left. She stood beneath the lights, her hair sparkling as incredible as the phenomenon above them. He had a great urge to kiss her.
“Get out,” the man told him harshly, shoving Mulder out of the jeep with the side of his gun. It was way too bright out today, and the complete shaking, disorienting feeling in him barely let him walk faster than a grandpa on sleeping pills. Ahead of him he saw a gate, and there, in all her small, rich-haired glory was Scully. At least one thing here made sense, as all else seemed to be a blur he couldn’t make out.
Something, though, was hanging in the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t reach, no matter how hard he tried, and as Scully ushered him into the car, gun in hand (why did she have it?), he felt as lost as ever.
Suddenly he was in the car, she was driving. Remember, remember, he repeated in his head, grappling with straws to gain some sliver of memory. But the only thing that came to mind was what it felt like to be with his wife.
His wife. His wee wife. This little slip of a woman. Why on earth were they driving down here? Why had they—he thought of a hotel room. Of lace dresses and pink panties, golden rings and words of everlasting vows. He thought of tongues and flesh, glistening skin, heaving chests. He thought of what it felt like to not have a care in the world beside this—besides his wife. He looked over at her; Scully, glancing at him every five seconds and gripping the steering wheel so hard he wondered if she would snap it in half. “You ok Mulder?” It wasn’t a gentle question.
“I… think so. Scully, I—“
“How did we get here?”
She stares at him for a long time. “Mulder I’m taking you to a hospit—“
“No! Take us back to the room. Please. I just—I just want to have a little quiet right now—they—“ He suddenly thought of people standing over him. “I think they took something from me.”
Scully let out a small tsk, but they sped down the road to the hotel anyway.
When she looked at him his breath was stolen. "What are they?"
"I don't know, just keep watching. It's unbelievable." You're unbelievable.
"That's unreal. I've never seen anything like it."
"They've been going at it like that for almost half an hour," he said truthfully.
"Well, it can't be aircraft. Aircraft can't maneuver like that."
What else could they be? He thought. Aliens. Maybe. He did care, but--he looked at her, and he just. Leans in to kiss her...
When they stepped inside the motel room, having shown there was no need to call for police due to Scully’s earlier “kidnapping scene”, because they’re the feds, goddamnit, all he could think about was how people looked at her versus how he did.
The man at the front office stared at her longer than he liked. She was his. His to keep close because the world could go fuck itself. Honestly. He--actually didn’t know right now because everything was coming to him in pieces. He now could recall why they were here, why it was important, but—nothing else. Nothing else but what came to him naturally.
Like his wife.
Who he wanted to claim right there in front of that stupid motel person.
Did she look that much different with red hair? He hadn’t felt this jealous of someone else’s eyesight before in a long time.
When she closed the door, he knew that she would demand to give him a physical. And by gods would he let her. While he gave her one. So, trying to keep himself upright, he placed his hands on her hips and kissed her shoulder.
Her head shot up so fast it nearly gave him a fright.
“Mulder, what are you—“
He kissed her neck.
Sighing, he grasped her tighter, giving her a tight kneading squeeze before moving to remove her jacket, her top, her bra—
“Mulder, we can’t…” she whispered, but both of them somehow ended up sitting on the bed. He groaned and tried to feel as much of her as he could, because, this, this right here, felt natural. Felt familiar. Felt—nice. He didn’t have a lot of nice things in his life besides this. This was enough.
“Please, I—“ He kissed the space between her clavicles. “I just want you right now.”
“Mulder,” she began, and he feared that she could demand he get off her and to get dressed, or maybe a slap in the face, but inside, she took one hand and cupped him through his trousers. “Mulder, you’re hard as a rock.” She said it as if she pitied him. “What am I going to do with you?” Scully sighed, and suddenly—
He found himself on his back, staring up at her with mild shock. Scully, with a calm, as if this was some operation and he was a patience on her table, unfastened his pants and pulled out his dick, giving him a tsk-tsk before straddling him.
“You’re such a baby,” she complained, rocking into him. “You need—constant supervision. If not, you’ll run away without me. Do I need to stay on top of you all day?”
Well, maybe not all day, he though in the back of his mind, but right now it sounded pretty fucking wonderful. Before he could think anymore, she was bare where it mattered and he was wrapped in—oh, she felt like heaven. Warm, slick, inviting yet gripping him like her body was trying to push him out. They both let out a loud groan as she sunk down atop him, lolling her head around.
She covered his mouth. “Shh,” she hushed, moving her hips right away as if to prevent him from saying anything stupid. More or less compelled to comply, he let her take the reigns and watched this goddess pleasure herself in his lap, writhing and bouncing like her life depended on it.
It was over too quick, too fast, not hard enough—but he was coming the moment she place his clueless hands on her breasts, and she was quaking as he once again came in her. Did she once mention something about taking the pill? Whatever, he thought, let him fill her up with his baby, their baby. A little thing with her face and his eyes. His seed felt like lava combined with her dripping wet cunt, still around him as she sat panting on him still, struggling for breath.
He thought about earlier. “Scully, we need—we need to talk about—“
She opened her dreamy blue eyes a crack to regard him.
Scully let out a huff and pulled off of him, openly not caring if she made a mess on the covers as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “That’s what you’re worried about? Mulder, you really need to work on your pillow talk,” she said, already gropping around for her clothes.
“No, Scully, really. They’ve rewired his brain, and they’ve done it to me too. I can’t— I can’t remember. Not a thing. And I know I saw something in there that I wasn't supposed to see.”
“It was a highly classified area. I’m not surprised they reacted the way they did with us poking around without good reason besides aliens.”
“You and I both know damn well that wasn’t why I brought you down h—“
“If it’s not aliens then it’s conspiracies. Paranormal regardless.” She was putting her bra on and top with haste, and all he could do was sit on the bed naked and watch her get ready like a useless idiot. And he couldn’t argue with this logic. But--
“You came for me,” he said, slowly, as if trending on dessert grounds at night, barefooted and hoping not to step on a venomous snake he couldn’t recover from.
“You’re my partner. We look out for each other.” said Scully, flatly.
“Yes, but, we’re m—“ As expected, she walked away and went into the bathroom before shutting it closed before her.
Waiting on her, he grabbed his own pants after whipping their mess off him with the bedside tissues. With more memories catching up to him, he reached into his pants pocket—
The ring. Where’s the ring!?
Abruptly, Scully came back into the room looking fresh, despite having that musky smell of sex. That wouldn’t go unless they had a shower, but they didn’t have time. Not really worried, though, he looked around frantically for—
“Mulder, what’s this?”
It wasn’t a tender inquiry. She held up the band of gold in the light, giving him an unreadable look. Why couldn’t he read her, damnit?
She let out a loud sigh and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “Mulder, we can’t.”
“Then why are you trying to make this work?”
He wanted to bite back, why did you fuck me?, but to be fair he did start it. Well. No. She did. The night of their first case. He wanted to call her a heartless bitch in a fit of emotions, but couldn’t bring himself to, not even in his own head.
“I’m not… I just…”
She looked at him expectantly.
He didn’t know what to say.
“Mulder… I think you’re lonely.”
His head shot up.
“I’ve heard how long you’ve been cooped up in that basement.”
“Not like it’s 24/7, Scully.”
“Yet this is getting out of hand. I’m fairly sure we agreed that our—time during the first case would be it.”
He pressed his lips together before retorting, “I’m pretty sure I never agreed to those terms. Besides,” he felt cruel, but, “you didn’t seem to be complaining.”
“Fuck you, Mulder,” she hissed, throwing the ring at his chest. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She got up, marched to her suitcase (yes, this was her room), and opened it up to pull out some papers.
No no no.
No, please no.
He wants to swear he’ll play nice but all he can do is be—numb.
“Here,” she tossed them on the bed and gathered her things. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”