"Rough day, Mulder?" Fox Mulder had quixotic theories, dark eyes, and he was six feet of long warm bones in the bed. She had been making a fool of herself over him for years, staying in a ridiculous job because Mulder was tall and mumbly and had once tried to make her drink sardine juice.
She had walked into the hospital, the flash of her cerebral cortex like aurora in the night of his mind. It was the most revelatory moment of his life. She was more tender and profound than she ever let on, worn raw with feeling. He would never again doubt that she loved him.
She knew that Mulder hadn't considered her size in years. Somehow she had slipped under the yellow 'do not cross' tape and preempted his fixation with coltish brunettes, in-through-the-out-door sort of chicks. On some days, in certain filters of mood, she knew that Mulder was the love of her life. What concerned her most was the unlikelihood that she could herself be the love of someone's life. Dana Scully, cloistered, infecund, cantankerous; you had to wonder. Although there were times when the look in his eyes convinced her momentarily otherwise.
"Scully," he began, "I know I'm a real piece of work - " She cut him off with a sharp look into his eyes. The fever was hot in the back of his throat. The TV flicked blue and her eyes were large and umbrageous, unreadable. Her grasp slid up his wrist, she held his forearm in two briefly possessive hands. "You're also too good to be true," she said.
Scully exhaled in irritation. "Mulder, nothing is going to happen. Even the Russian nuclear power plants are prepared. It's just premillennial tension."
"Please," he said, looking at her directly. "The end of the world wouldn't be the same without you."
She lifted her chin. It was hard to argue with that.
When did Scully get so hip to the babeness factor? All tailored and slouchy, black bras, polished hair, insane shoes, a clattery, unbuttoned, hot-breathed little bundle of ticking clock and rampant hormones. He remembered how he felt in his own sexual prime and calculated that her comportment was nothing short of miraculous.
When he encircled her with his arms she'd had the infinite sense of a mobius strip, as if they were palindromic in their connection.
She wondered how much longer it would be humanly possible to refrain from jumping his bones.
Odd to think that he was nearly a middle-aged man. The term didn't seem to apply to Mulder, impetuous Mulder, to the brazen complication of him. He was thirty when she met him, entirely too rash and enchanting for his own good. There were miles and miles of silence inside him. For the first time since high school, she had started to focus on someone her own age. He was thirty years old when she met him, all scapegrace and mettle, and built like a poem.
"I'm not on the internet, Scully." Mulder removed a folded paper from the inner pocket of his suit.
"You make it sound like I have web shrines to my glory." He tapped her with the paper until she took it.
Their hands were together, brushing and turning like skirmishing birds. They pretended they weren't holding hands, just as they had always pretended they didn't love each other to pieces.
He stood with his arms around her for a long time, there in his bathroom, wondering how he could have ever thought himself lonely in a world she simultaneously inhabited.
Langly, slouching back in in his high tops to retrieve Frohike's hat, happened to glance toward the kitchen, and that was how the Lone Gunmen accrued irrefutable eye-witness substantiation of the long-debated, non-definitive Mulder-Scully Relationship.
"Forever," she puffed, "forever is such an inadequate word." -Parabiosis by Penumbra
"Give me ten minutes and half a chance, Scully. I'll warm you up." - Inversion Layer by Blackwood
I swear to God if I ever hit a woman, it's going to be Scully. She can get me from mellow to psychotic faster than a Porsche on a test track.
Was this one of the images he used to amuse himself those lonely nights of masturbating on his sofa? Really, the sofa should have given birth to an ottoman after all the sperm it had taken into its crevices.
But I spoke fluent Mulder.
Hold on, the Mulder/Scully household. Mulder-Scully? Scully/Mulder? Does anal retentive have a hyphen?
In my life, as in the movies, no one wastes any time with hello or goodbye. You have to save time for plot or people get bored.
"You know what they say - absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"I thought it was absence makes the dick grow harder."
"Talking dirty to me? You're turning me on."
"Mulder, Diet Coke turns you on."
Scully is like a radio that I can only tune in to certain channels, and the sex channel always comes in the clearest.
I watched his mental Yellow Pages flip to 'Getting Some'.
Iolokus I, II, III, IV (by MustangSally and RivkaT)
"Why, Miss Scully", he drawled in a fine imitation of their informant. "A gentleman never answers a lady’s phone, ‘specially not when she keeps it where you’ve got it." -The Current Temperature in Downtown Washington... by Sarah Segretti