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Five sentence fics

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“Do you think this is a good idea?”

His flashy grin to her low whisper says ‘when have my ideas never been good?’. Her eyebrow arches in a muscle-memory ‘really, a pissing contest, now?’.

A frisson of something like sexual energy zaps up her spine when his breath heats her neck. ‘Ready?’.

Arc of a flashlight, a rustling movement from the oily dark and they’re back on the job. As ever.

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Mulder grabbed Scully’s frantically, seeking reassurance that his rock was still steady in her own right, even as he felt the ground beneath him giving way.

She was leaving. The tremor in his heart triggered his own personal earthquake. Her wet eyes sparked the minutest flint of hope and he lowered his face to hers, slowly, slowly until he practically tasted the gravitational pull between them.

She flinched, ‘Ow!’.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, because he was and always would be.

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She burst through the door, letting it slam behind her, and threw her keys on the table in frustration.

“Poopy day?” Mulder said, in a glib drawl, before turning his chin to really see her and adjusting his tone. “C’mere.”

His shoulder brushed her ear, blocking out one half of the world. “It’s nothing,” she said into a non-judgemental bicep.

“Sure,” he murmured, hand ridged under her hairline, massaging her knotted tendons. “Let me help you with that nothing.”

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“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Her snort of derision is captured in a cloud of condensation on the glass of the cracked window pane. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s…it’s old and tired and so far away from anything and anyone. It needs serious work. It’ll take months to bring it up to scratch after this much neglect.”

She loops her arm through his and smiles gently at him. “I think it’s worth giving it a go. It’s so…us.”

He drives away from the house with its unremarkable façade filling the rearview mirror and begins to see the potential.

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The sound of footsteps in the dark made her open her eyes »

Her mind ran through how long it would take her to sit up, open the bedside drawer, pull out her weapon, train it at her intruder. The footsteps grew louder, like her heartbeat. Behind her, Mulder made a noise, lifted a hand over her hip before running it up her body towards her neck.

“Scully,” the voice came from the door. Mulder’s voice, she realised, too late, as the hand clamped over her mouth and her scream was shoved back down her throat.

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The snow was swirling around and around her head in such a dizzying spell that it took the chill of her scarf flying off for her to realize that she was lost…

Droplets from her nose froze around her nostrils and when the wind howled it sucked the air from her lungs and the hope from her heart. What use was a flashlight when it just reflected the futility of her situation back at her?

“Mulder!” she yelled, and watched as the word hung on the air in front of her, freezing and then falling away. When she looked down, a jagged message formed in the snow - don’t give up. She blinked and they disappeared and as she walked on, a curious warmth spread through her.

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“Did you miss me?”

She snuffled out a giggle as he linked his fingers through hers.

“No,” she lied right into his mouth. He swallowed the word without question and proceeded to use her mendacity against her with the tip of his tongue exploring the slopes and valleys of her body.

“Because I missed you,” he said, eyes shining honest-bright. And she sucked the truth from him with her wet and willing mouth in the way that made him whimper and writhe.