They call it The Brutalist.
Béton brut. Raw concrete. Gridlike block walls insisting upon the pleasant streets of downtown Washington D.C.
The building was named for J. Edgar Hoover, and the distaste for both has only grown with age.
Its walls guard the methods and manpower to fight terrorism, violent crime, and cyber crime, among others. Intelligence, Science and Technology, and National Security are housed within as well. Laboratories, classrooms, a morgue, a firing range, and a two-story basketball court are just a few of the spaces it boasts.
But deep in its bowels is a space few of its agents care about, think about, or even know about. Just like the crimes its inhabitants investigate, the space itself may as well be a cypher, an unknown.
Deep in the basement, special agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully occupy their own space. They have busied themselves with the fantastic and unbelievable for years, chasing monsters and discovering what lies just beyond the edge of science.
What is most fantastic and unbelievable, however, is how long it took the Bureau’s vigilant surveillance cameras to catch the two agents engaged in acts not necessarily involving the paranormal.
No one watches the vast majority of this footage. No one will know it occurred, and no one will ever see it. But within the seemingly endless expanse of the FBI digital library, if one searched hard enough, they’d find the truth.
After watching the gritty video playing on the projector for almost an hour, Scully couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Mulder, why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“I wasn’t looking at you. I’m watching the show,” he responded earnestly through a mouthful of popcorn, pointing a buttery finger towards the projector screen for emphasis.
The FBI insisted they got to view the footage captured from their latest case before it was nationally broadcast, routine to make sure nothing incriminating or condemning was depicted. Subliminally, it was just to make sure Spooky Mulder didn’t embarrass them. To be honest, Scully had completely forgotten about it until she came in to see Mulder re-arranging their office like a mini movie theater. Before she had a chance to ask, he held up a VHS in a Cops sleeve, declaring it was movie day with juvenile excitement. Apparently Skinner had sent it down after it was deemed acceptable, and Mulder was more than eager to watch it and she didn’t have the heart to tell him no.
She hated watching herself on tape, always had, but after watching over half the episode, she couldn’t help but notice there was something magnetic about watching the two of them on screen. Like watching the cogs turn in a clock, remarkably different in appearance, but intrinsically effective. The way they seemed to build off each other somehow seemed beautiful depicted on screen while in real life it often felt like a never ending battle of rationality versus extremism.
The other facet keeping her attention glued to the screen was the way the on-screen Mulder just seemed to...openly adore her, for lack of better phrasing. She tried to think of another explanation, but that’s all she could see. Whether it was staring down at her like she was the only person in the world, making sure he found her if there was any sign of danger, or following her like a guard dog without any conscious effort. And the touching. Jesus Christ, the touching. She knew how his hand felt on her back, but she never quite saw the delicacy with which he did it. Not intrusive, not aggressive, but as if he was holding something precious beneath his fingertips. Did he think he was?
It was glaringly obvious, which was why she couldn’t believe his look of confusion as he pointed to the screen. “Exactly, I’m watching too,” she replied. “That’s what I mean. Have you not noticed?”
“Noticed what?” he asked, looking at the screen with a newfound curiosity.
Now she felt a little ridiculous, like she was projecting her own hopes onto the screen. Maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see. She was about to say ‘never mind’ when, even on the grainy screen of their office television, she could clearly see Mulder checking out her ass as she walked away from him. A small smile quirking his lip upward before he moved to talk to other detectives.
“That! Did you see that?” she proclaimed, pointing at the screen.
“See what?” He had the tone of a kid with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. He knew damn well what.
“You leered at me!”
“I would never leer at you, Scully,” he admonished.
“Fine, you ogled my ass,” she exclaimed.
“Appreciated,” he emphasized to correct her, “-and only in the most respectful way possible.”
She rolled her eyes at his desperate attempts to subvert the discussion. “You appreciate a good floral arrangement, or a nice meal, o-or,” she struggled to think of another example.
“Art?” he offered.
“Yes, Art. You ca-”
“That’s what I was doing.” He was using the same tone that he utilized when he was flirting with her.
Should we be picking out china patterns or what?
Dear Diary, today my heart leapt when Agent Scully suggested spontaneous human combustion.
Wanna make that honeymoon video now?
Let’s get it on, honey.
Scully, marry me.
“What?” she rasped, her throat suddenly losing all moisture.
He was still leaning back in his chair, his body totally sprawled out, the pinnacle of ease while she was so tense she could feel it in her toes. He was idly playing with a pencil in his hand as he regarded her, and, now that she was able to recognize the gazing from the video happening in real life, she felt like every cell in her body was on fire. “I was just admiring a masterpiece, Scully,” he shrugged, as if he told her the sky is blue or aliens are grey. Complete conviction and utter belief.
All of the sudden she felt an incredible sense of deja vu. Same office, same man, same sentiment.
How many times had Mulder blatantly hit on her and she simply chose to ignore it as a joke? Right now there was no mistaking his intention. The way his eyes suggestively couldn’t remain on her face was sign enough of what his intentions were. Yet, she never felt uncomfortable. No. It thrilled her.
She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been flustered by something he did or said. Usually it just resulted in her fantasizing in bed, home alone, with her hand shoved in her panties. Usually when the quivering of her body subsided, she just felt foolish. Like she was making something out of nothing because clearly Mulder couldn’t have been thinking the same impure thoughts she was.
I think it’s remotely plausible someone might think you’re hot.
She wasn’t naive, she knew he at least thought she was pretty, she knew she thought he was sex on a stick, but just how deeply did this current of sexual tension dominate their relationship? Based on what the tape was demonstrating and the suggestion in his voice, the answer was tremendously.
She must’ve sat in stunned silence for too long because Mulder rocketed his seat forward and placed his hand on her thigh. “Hey,” he started, getting her attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. That was inappropriate of me.”
As scared as she was of what her new revelation meant for their relationship, she was even more scared at the prospect of going back. “N-no,” she rushed, placing her hand atop his on her leg. “You’re fine, I shouldn’t have embarrassed you by calling you out like that. I really don’t mind.” She was amazed how many words she could say with her foot so far in her mouth.
He cocked his head to the side and she realized just how close they were. She could see the ever-evolving colors in his eyes as he tried to analyze her words. It aggravated her to no end when he used his profiling skills on her. Not necessarily because it was invasive, but because he was usually right. “You don’t mind?” She could have sworn as he said this, his fingers infinitesimally tightened against her thigh.
She just chuckled nervously, shrugged lightly and cleared her throat, moving her attention back to the screen and ignoring the desire to move closer to him when he retracted his hand. The room was charged now and she was doing everything she could to ignore it. Instead, she simply watched as that lab technician started making herself sick from worry. Almost immediately after she fell, it cut to the camera crew and Mulder surrounding her, leaving out the panicked call she’d placed to Mulder in the time in between. Don’t worry, Scully. I’ll be right there. She remembered how the fear she felt had completely disappeared when he’d said those words, and now retrospectively, she was curious if he’d saved her life.
That is - if his theory they scared themselves was true. She’d been scared that whatever came over that woman might happen to her. Would it have had he not calmed her with the mere promise of his presence? She wasn’t sure what she believed happened on that night, but it was a heavy thought.
Scully shook it from her head and instead paid attention to how stark their height difference appeared when they were shown side by side. Sure, she noticed it every time she looked up at him, but she didn’t entirely realize that he practically dwarfed her.
She reached over and grabbed some more popcorn when he caught her off guard. “Have I ever told you how good you look in a lab coat?”
“What?” she mumbled through her mouthful.
“Well, I wasn’t sure if it bothered you that I appreciate your form or that I appreciate it behind your back.”
“T-thank you,” she replied, feeling her face grow hot from the attention she felt and saw on herself. Both from Mulder.
He was silent for a moment and she didn’t dare take her eyes off the screen. For a brief second she was naive enough to think a quiet Mulder was a docile Mulder. Wrong. “Scully, are you blushing?” he asked, his voice as rough as gravel.
Against her better judgement, she turned to look at him and saw the elephant in the room reflected in his eyes. He knew damn well he was affecting her. Raising a timid hand up, he ran the back of his index finger down her cheekbone, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. “You look beautiful like this too,” he murmured, almost to himself. As if he was drunk off this new revelation that she liked his attention.
They were both unconsciously scooting closer to each other, but she didn’t notice until their knees accidentally bumped together. She gasped and jumped a bit before ultimately relaxing back into him, so that they were touching again. The way his leg gently pushed against hers, parting them lightly didn’t go unnoticed. “Do I always affect you like this?” he asked, still playing with the flush of her cheek, going so boldly as to occasionally flit across her lips before darting back to a safer territory.
The rational side of her was telling her to pull back, that it was quickly reaching the point of no return, or at least point of awkward return. After they almost kissed in his hallway two years ago, it took awhile for them to find footing again. To be able to start a conversation without the unspoken weighing down their tongues, or to look in the other’s eyes without the image of what could have been dancing in the reflection. She didn’t know how long it would take them to recover from open flirting and near fondling as she saw his arousal grow in his pants and he could smell hers perfuming the air. Which she knew he could from the way his nostrils flared, his eyes dilated, and he licked the lips threatening to devour her whole with a predatory smile.
But the side of her that was sick and tired of taking a back seat was the one to answer, “Yes.”
Her eyes followed his stare and she saw her nipples standing at attention beneath the thin cotton of her blouse and bra. The finger that had been stroking her face tugged on her lip one last time before it made a trail down her neck, slipping into her cleavage just momentarily before grazing her left nipple so gently that it almost felt like nothing.
Her gasp and his subdued moan were proof that it was anything but nothing. His eyes returned to her face, trying to find a sign of hesitance she knew would no longer appear, and what he saw gave him enough confidence to raise his other hand so he could place feather-light touches on both of her breasts simultaneously. She wanted to close her eyes, but the sight in front of her was too good to cut off. Mulder was completely and utterly entranced by the sight in front of him, a look of mesmerized concentration painting his face. It gave her a small confident twinge of her own.
“You know,” she began, her voice coming out a lot huskier than the shy whispers she’d produced a moment ago. “You haven’t hit all the places you affect me yet.”
His eyes bore into hers dangerously. Then, as if calling her bluff, he placed one palm on the middle of her inner thigh. “Here?” he asked, egging her on.
“A little higher,” she breathed, slouching in the seat a bit as she unconsciously spread her legs.
He moved a few inches up and he groaned lightly in his mouth. “Warmer.” It wasn’t a question. He was warmer. Her arousal radiating like a furnace in between her thighs that she knew he was able to feel.
“Mhm,” she nodded, biting her lip.
He moved what felt like a mere few centimeters and she bit her lip harder to keep herself from whining. “Wetter,” he murmured proudly.
She gasped and arched her back when his full palm cupped her sex unexpectedly, groping her hard through her saturated underwear. “Fuck, Scully,” he praised, jerking in his seat himself as he kneaded her through the fabric.
She grabbed the sides of the chair desperately as she ground into his open hand, her hips barely ever touching the chair. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed breathlessly as her head fell back.
“Does that feel good?” he asked, his thumb rubbing small circles on her clit over the panties.
“Y-yeah,” she affirmed shakily.
She felt him use his other fingers to pull the band to the side as he ran his fingers over her opening and she swore to god she was panting but she didn’t even care. “What about this?” He ended the sentence by thrusting two fingers into her and curling them upwards.
She sucked in a lungful of air and cried out his name as he started rubbing her slowly, keeping the same pace with the thumb of his other hand on her clit. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed. She fixed a hooded gaze on Mulder so she could watch him subtly squeezing his thighs together, grinding his erection into his thighs to give himself some friction. She felt herself gush at the sight.
“F-faster, p-please,” she begged as she raised her legs so that her calves were draped over either of his thighs, like a mock obgyn-chair.
She was completely and utterly exposed to him now and his appreciation was summed up in the long groan of the word “fuck” before he rapidly picked up the pace.
She was all but humping his hand now as her orgasm built up. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-” She repeated the mantra until she was blinded by a bright light bursting before her eyes.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. When they did, she turned and saw Mulder was on the other side of the room and had just flicked on the overhead switch.
And she was still sitting upright, fully clothed, popcorn bowl still in her lap, completely untouched.
“Um-” she started, shifting in her seat and trying to ignore the way the dampness of the fabric hit her inner thighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I enjoyed it.” Luckily he was too busy adding the Cops tape to his VHS collection, apparently the genre of which was expanding, as she sat there in embarrassment.
She had been vividly fantasizing about Mulder finger fucking her in the middle of their office with him sitting no more than a foot away from her. She hoped she hadn’t been squirming or making any sounds that gave away her unpartnerly thoughts. With a sigh of frustration, she stood up and told Mulder she needed to go to the restroom.
So she could take care of her little predicament.