Chapter Text
Scully pulled up in front of her apartment just as the last hint of daylight was swallowed by dark clouds in the horizon. The rain was coming down hard and she hadn’t checked the forecast that morning, so she didn’t have an umbrella with her. She didn’t feel like getting her nice suit soaking wet and her new shoes soggy, but she really didn’t have a choice. She opened the driver’s door and slammed it behind her as she jumped out into the downpour, jogging as quickly toward her apartment as her three inch heels would allow her. She fumbled for her front door keys just as a single frigid raindrop fell on her neck and rolled down her spine. She shivered as she opened the door and propelled herself through, grateful to be out of the rain but irritated at the entire situation.
As soon as she entered her apartment, Scully immediately kicked off her damp shoes. She brushed back wet strands of hair sticking to her forehead and sighed the sigh of the annoyed. Walking to the bathroom, she stripped off her damp blazer and threw it on the floor; it was destined for the dry cleaners so she didn’t have to worry about getting it wrinkled. She turned on the water as hot as she thought she could stand and took off the rest of her clothes. Stepping into the shower, she breathed a sigh of relief. This was much better. The caressing hot water and the liberal use of her favorite lavender shower gel provided a mental respite which she desperately needed. Get wet. Lather bath scrubbie. Wash everywhere. Simple steps and occupied hands pulled her away from the turbulent thoughts that had dominated her day.
After drying off with one of her fluffy towels, she walked naked to her bedroom to get dressed. Scully had no plans to go out again tonight in the rain, and no one was due to come over, so she threw on an old Georgetown sweatshirt and leggings, eschewing her bra. Well-worn soft cotton garments on her freshly scrubbed skin was like a hug. A suit and high heels every day was her necessary armor, but often she was glad when she was called to do an autopsy because that meant she could slip into scrubs and out of her business wear. Now that she had washed the day off of her, she turned her mind toward filling her growling stomach. She padded into the kitchen and peered into the fridge to see what her options were. Her mother had sent her home the night before with a considerable slab of lasagna, and Scully was grateful to have something to heat up rather than cook. She wasn’t in a state of mind to follow a recipe, so only needing to pop a nice portion of leftovers into the microwave was definitely her speed tonight.
Scully tried working on that day’s Washington Post crossword puzzle as she ate the lasagna, but her mind was buzzing too much to concentrate very well. She ate her dinner and was on her last bite before she realized she had taken her first. She put her plate and fork in the dishwasher and returned the food to the fridge, noticing an open bottle of red wine. Without thinking, she pulled it out. She could really use a drink tonight to settle herself down. She reached for a wine glass in the upper cabinet and poured herself a generous helping which she carried it to the couch, sitting down and pulling the throw blanket over her lap.
This was it. The moment she had been waiting for, and yet at the same time dreading, all day. The demands of her job had kept her from processing all the thoughts pinging around her brain; she tried desperately to corral them and store them away until she was back in her private sanctuary. Now that she was bathed, fed, and comfortable, she could take a deep breath and let her mind wander over the day and consider all the feelings chaotically floating around in her like free radicals. She took a deep sip of her wine and began to try and slow her brain. She wasn’t going to come to any type of rational conclusion until she returned to her careful, orderly self.
The reason for this necessary thinking session was her dashing yet slightly crazy partner. Scully leaned her head against the back on the couch and sighed. The thoughts swirling around about him were almost overwhelming in their intensity. She didn’t know where to start.
The truth, she told herself. Start with objective, observable facts. That’s the place she felt most comfortable. But none of this made her comfortable. She was pushing the boundaries of what she could process, but she knew it had to be done. Because the truth was there, right in front of her, ready to be explored. It felt huge, it felt necessary, but also inevitable.
Scully closed her eyes in a pathetic attempt to not see what was staring back at her. The honest truth that she could no longer ignore was that she and Mulder had been growing closer lately. Physically. And it was greatly confusing her.
Her mind drifted back to a couple of months ago, when the two of them were lounging on Mulder’s couch on a Saturday night, watching a Twilight Zone marathon. He sat at one end, and she at the other, her legs tucked up beside her. Her bare feet were only a few inches from Mulder’s thigh, which she was more aware of than she should have been. His hand was resting on top of his leg, and during the episode with Talking Tina, her feet drifted closer to Mulder as if summoned by a magnet. Without looking away from the TV, Mulder slowly lifted his hand and rested it on her top foot. Scully was surprised but didn’t react, at least outwardly. She schooled her face into bland interest toward what she was watching, but her pulse picked up and her breathing increased while the volume to the TV became muffled. Mulder moved his hand so his fingers encircled her ankle, and much to her surprise, he slowly pulled her foot into his lap. Scully initially jerked from the shock, and then forced herself to relax as much as she could. She had no idea what he was doing but she was curious to find out. Without looking at her, he wrapped his other hand around her captive foot. And he started massaging.
Scully sat there shocked. Mulder had never done anything so intimate before. There was the occasional shoulder rub when she complained of muscle cramps after an autopsy, but those were over clothes, and they only lasted for a moment or two. Mulder’s warm hands on her bare skin was something new. She looked straight ahead at the Twilight Zone she wasn’t watching and tried not to react, lest Mulder realize the effect he was having on her. He started out gently, just stroking her foot with his thumb, but before long the effort increased until he was giving her a deep foot rub. Scully swallowed all sounds of pleasure that were clamoring to be released. Somehow reacting to what he was doing would make all the more real, and she wasn’t about to do that. The foot rub existed in that liminal space between feeling and words, and she wasn’t going to interrupt the spell that Mulder was weaving. She fought to regulate her breathing as Mulder dug his knuckles into the arch of her foot, but a soft moan accidently escaped when he hit a particular tender spot. Scully turned red and doubled down on holding back any more reactions of pleasure. It wasn’t easy.
After about five minutes, Mulder took her left foot in his hand and moved it so it was back on the couch, but resting gently against his thigh. He took the other foot in his soft hands and gave it similar treatment. They just stared straight ahead at the TV, as if Rod Serling was the most interesting thing going on in the room. Far from it. Eventually Mulder finished and moved her right foot next to her left, both of them pressing lightly into Mulder’s denim-covered leg. She could feel his warmth bleed through his pants into the soles of her feet.
Scully sat on the couch, fighting to regain control of herself, for an hour, until the beer she had drunk with the pizza they had eaten earlier was calling for her to empty her bladder. Reluctantly she pulled her feet back and stood up, walking to Mulder’s bathroom. As she wiped after she peed, she was shocked to discover how wet she was. As much as she fought reacting while on the couch with Mulder, her body went ahead and gave into the sensations of his warm, elegant fingers moving over her tender feet. When she looked at herself in the mirror after washing her hands, she noticed a high blush on her cheeks and enlarged pupils. She splashed cold water on her face and neck in an attempt to calm herself down and return her complexion to its normal ivory. She dried her hands on a towel and returned to the couch, except this time she sat upright so her feet rested on the ground. Mulder never said a word the entire time. When midnight came, she yawned and pled exhaustion and headed back to her place. In the car driving back to Georgetown, she asked herself what the hell had happened. She had no answers.
Mulder had always been physical with her to some degree. He leaned in too close and always invaded her personal space when he stood next to her. He frequently rested his hand on her lower back when they were walking together as if to guide her. When Scully first started on the X-files she found these habits weird and a bit disconcerting, but quickly realized that Mulder wasn’t trying to make her uncomfortable. Touch and proximity were Mulder’s way of connecting and she grew to like the feeling of his hand on her as he steered her out of a room. If any other man tried to do this, they would pay dearly for violating her boundaries. But Mulder wasn’t like other men, so she accepted his little quirks as his odd way of showing affection.
Except the affection seemed to be growing.
A couple of weekends ago they spent most of their Sunday in the office working. They were scheduled to fly out to Ohio the next day, so they were sorting though notes on the case and doing research in preparation for their trip. They were both tired and after a brief battle, Mulder finally agreed to call it a night. Both of them were dressed casually, Scully in jeans and a top that was cropped at her waist. As the two of them walked down the hallway towards the basement elevator, Mulder did his usual thing and placed his hand on Scully’s lower back. Her shirt had hiked up a bit and there was a strip of bare skin underneath where his hand rested. The warmth of his skin against hers created a frisson, and once again she found herself trying to tamp down her reaction. But when Mulder moved his index finger underneath her shirt and stoked her bare skin, Scully almost gasped but somehow managed to swallow her reaction. The rest of Mulder’s fingers followed until his whole hand was pressed against her bare lower back. They walked down the hallway in this fashion until they reached the elevator and were forced to pull apart. Scully instantly missed the warmth and softness of Mulder’s skin against hers. Mulder pressed the button to the garage floor, never looking at her. As she walked to her car in the parking lot, she started to question if it had really happened. Perhaps she had imagined it all, some longing in her manifesting into a hallucination. But the skin of her back still tingled where he had touched her and the full body flush of arousal was hard to deny. Again, Mulder said nothing.
Scully sat up and took her empty wine glass to the kitchen for a refill. Taking a long sip she settled herself on the couch again and delved back into her jumble of messy, tangled thoughts. It wasn’t just the physicality that was different between them. It was so much more.
Scully thought things started to change when she was temporarily assigned back to Quantico to cover the maternity leave of a pathologist a few months prior. Mulder was furious that Scully was off the X-files for several weeks and tried his best to get her reassignment cancelled, but the powers that be refused to budge. To be honest she enjoyed being back at Quantico, and she liked the fact that for a couple of months she didn’t have to travel. But she missed Mulder. And he made it very clear he missed her too. He called her every night without fail and updated her on his casework, eliciting her opinion and arguing with her when she gave it. After an hour or so on the phone, topics drifted away from work into the realm of the personal. Mulder was always a guarded person, as was Scully, but somehow being sleepy and relaxed in their own homes had loosened their tongues. Perhaps it was because it was easier to divulge what was usually kept under wraps when one doesn’t have to look at the person they are talking to, or maybe working separately and missing each other had ignited something between them. Scully found herself telling Mulder personal things she didn’t think she ever would share. They talked about past relationships and the people who had broken their hearts. They chatted about their childhoods, with Mulder being very candid about the parental neglect he experienced after Sam was taken, and how lonely he was as a teenager. Scully shared how awful it was to constantly move around as a Navy brat; just when she grew comfortable in a school and was starting to make friends, her father announced they were changing to another base. They talked to each other in an open-hearted, unguarded way that they never had before, and conversations often stretched until the wee hours. Both were reluctant to sever the intimacy, and their goodnights often lasted several minutes.
During the time of her reassignment, she started inviting Mulder over for dinner on Saturday nights. Scully always loved to cook, but didn’t do it as much as she liked because cooking for one wasn’t very fun. Having someone to feed was so much more enjoyable, so she got out her old cookbooks and found some of her favorite recipes. Mulder was treated to such dishes as Cornish hen, beef stroganoff, roasted pork loin, and filet mignon, followed by something delicious Scully had baked. Mulder was thrilled to eat a meal that didn’t come out of a carry out box and praised Scully for her cooking skills. Conversations weren’t as deep as they were on the phone, but any time they really talked was ripe with intellectual sparks. As two bright, well-read people, they knew a lot about a breadth of topics, and both had much to contribute despite their radically different world views. Eating delicious food along with verbal sparring gave way to collapsing on Scully’s couch to watch a movie after the dishes were done. One night, shortly before Scully came back to the X-files from filling in at Quantico, they were sitting next to each other with Mulder’s arm stretched out on the back of the couch behind Scully’s head. He slowly moved his hand over Scully’s shoulder, and to her surprise, he took a stand of her hair and wove it around his finger. Her scalp tingled. After a moment Mulder seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled his hand slowly back to the couch. Scully stared straight ahead and did everything she could to appear unaffected by Mulder’s actions, but her heart was racing.
Increased intimate touches and long phone conversations continued even after Scully came back to the X-files. She found herself looking forward to going out of town on cases, because she got to spend so much time with him. Late nights in run down hotel rooms eating mediocre pizza might not be anyone else’s idea of a good time, but she secretly loved it. She liked seeing Mulder knee-deep in a case, flailing his arms as he talked rapidly and worked circles around local law enforcement. She was always amazed at his intellect and ability to see things no other person on a case was able to. Being with Mulder in this zone excited her, and the energy got her through the sleepless nights and missed meals. What most people would consider a miserable experience fed Scully’s soul.
Then today happened. Scully set down her wine glass on the coffee table and wrapped the throw blanket around her shoulders as she lie down on the couch. Today. Why did today affect her so much? She thought she knew the answer. After months of increased sexual tension they were both like tinder, ready to spark at any provocation. His hand on her back felt warmer and heavier than it normally did. Mulder’s forearms looked even sexier with his sleeves rolled up. She found herself distracted by his lower lip when she was talking to him. Late at night alone in her apartment, she brought herself to orgasm time and again with her vibrator fantasizing about Mulder. After she came she felt embarrassed about the erotic thoughts she had about her partner, but she just couldn’t help herself.
Today. Mulder and Scully were leaving Skinner’s office after a particularly contentious meeting, relieved to be heading back to their basement sanctuary. They got onto a very crowded elevator and were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder pressed against the back. Their hands hung at their sides and brushed against each other by accident. What happened next couldn’t be constructed as an error of proximity, despite Scully trying to twist it that way in her mind. She felt Mulder’s pinky finger wrap around hers. She stood stock still, unsure of what to do. Mulder didn’t release her, and they rode the elevator with fingers intertwined. Scully felt the heat rise from her neck to her scalp. She really hoped no one noticed. The elevator slowly emptied as it stopped at various floors until it was just the two of them. When the elevator reached the basement, Mulder squeezed her pinky and released her. As usual he seemed unaffected by their intimate moment, and instead chatted about what subs to order for lunch when they got back to their office. Scully, however, fought to maintain control. It was incredible to her that touching fingers followed by a squeeze could affect her so strongly, but it did. For the rest of the day she kept going back to the feeling of his long, graceful finger holding hers, his skin impossibly soft and warm. The air crackled between them for the rest of the day, and Scully was glad when quitting time came so she could breathe again in the comfort of her own home.
Scully sighed and raised her hand to her forehead, rubbing it as if she had a headache. This is the difficult part, where she often tried to quell her thinking by doing housework or going running as a distraction from troubling thoughts. She decided after today’s elevator incident that she wasn’t going to do that tonight, that she was actually going to spend some time considering her relationship with Mulder. Ignoring their connection wasn’t making things better; in fact, it was only getting stronger. It was time she stopped pretending everything was normal between them and figure it all out.
In her heart of hearts, she knew what it meant. She had romantic feelings for her partner. And from all the evidence, the yearning wasn’t one sided. The truth washed over her and was so hard to look at that she actually covered her head with the throw blanket as if to hide from reality. She didn’t want to be attracted to her partner. She knew the rumors that circulated about her and Mulder, and she had no desire to prove them true. It was such a cliché, a male and female agent falling in love with each other. She was more professional than that. But acting like she had control of her feelings was starting to wear thin, and it was time to be honest with herself, as hard as it was.
Mulder had grown to be so much more than her partner. And her friend.
She closed her eyes as if she could block out the unwanted thoughts. No, she told herself. No more denial. Admit how you feel and decide what you are going to do about it. Be an adult. That sounded so simple, but it was complicated. Scully’s feelings were complicated. Mulder was a complex man. Nothing was easy about this situation.
Sometimes Scully fantasized that she found Mulder years before she started on the X-files, back when they both worked at Quantico. In her dreams they met somewhere normal, perhaps the cafeteria or the gym. Their meet cute was followed by a formal date, where he charmed her by bringing her flowers. One date turned into two, then four, then they stopped resisting the inevitable and fell into bed. The sex was utterly magnificent, the best Scully had ever had. Over time they formed an established relationship with regular dates and weekend sleepovers. She pictured waking up next to Mulder on a lazy Sunday afternoon, fucking his brains out before she made pancakes for the both of them. She imagined a normal relationship where feelings didn’t need to be hidden. Sometimes in her fantasy Scully was married to Mulder, other times he was just her boyfriend. Each time she pictured incredibly hot sex and deep love and loyalty. She’d pull herself back to reality only to coldly remind herself that she wasn’t at Quantico any more, they were partners, and they weren’t free to expand their relationship. She hated when she indulged in such girlish peregrinations but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
But their relationship had expanded regardless of self reprimands. Longer gazes, intimate phone conversations, stolen touches…she couldn’t look away from these things any more. Today in the elevator was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Denial was no longer possible.
For a long time she was convinced that her attraction was one way. Despite being a gorgeous man who dripped sex, Mulder didn’t have much to do with women in his personal life. For all the years she knew him, she couldn’t recall him telling her about one single date he went on. Women threw themselves at him all the time, but all he did was chuckle and look smug. He was too involved in his job to have room in his life for women, so pornography and 1-900 numbers seemed to be his only sexual outlets. For a long time Scully was convinced that he only saw her as a friend, especially after meeting a couple of his girlfriends and realizing he had a type, and she was definitely not it. He was always very respectful of her as a woman and a female agent, only flirting occasionally as a way of teasing her. It wasn’t until they began their marathon late night calls that she could no longer deny what she truly meant to Mulder. And then the touches escalated. After today she had to face what she was trying to push down. Mulder felt something too. It wasn’t just her alone. They were both in this thing, whatever it was. And that scared her to death.
Because she had no idea what to do about it.
Her inclination was to just ignore it and continue as usual. Push it down and soldier on, like she had with so many other things in her life. But if she were honest with herself she would admit that their attraction wasn’t going to go away. How turned on she got just by his pinkie caressing hers was proof of that. This thing had gotten bigger than either of them alone, and pretending it wasn’t there had become the proverbial elephant in the room. But what else could she do but deny it, downplay it, act like nothing was happening between them. What other choice did she have?
But there was something else she could do. She could risk everything and tell him.
Tell him that she had feelings for him.
Scully groaned and after untangling herself from the throw blanket, stood up and began to pace around her living room. Ug, a confession of love was the last thing she wanted to do. What if he wasn’t ready for that? What if she opened up to him and told him her true feelings, only to have him retreat? To have him reject her? She couldn’t bear the idea of revealing her heart to Mulder and having him tell her he just saw her as a friend and he didn’t want anything else. It would destroy her. It would destroy them. No, she couldn’t risk ending their partnership over her feelings. That would be crazy.
But when Scully fought to be honest with herself, really honest, she knew that was just fear talking. Mulder’s increased physicality was not an accident. There was something behind each touch, every story about his childhood he told late at night while she lay in bed listening. There was connection and friendship and…love. Scully winced. That word. Love. She was in love with Fox Mulder. And she was pretty sure he was in love with her.
Scully increased her pacing speed. Okay, she said the quiet part…not quite out loud, but inside her mind. There was something between them, and things were changing. Changing into what, she wasn’t sure. But the uncertainty, the hyper awareness of him physically, the pining, the X-rated fantasies she had, the late night conversations, the weekend dinners…There was a connection, something solid, something real, even if they never acknowledged it. But she was acknowledging it now, to herself, alone in the apartment. She just couldn’t deny it any more.
But what was she going to do about it?
Scully imagined what would happen if she told him how she felt. In her mind he confesses his undying love to her, they embrace, they fall into bed, and then this beautiful thing between them is finally allowed to blossom. It was a dream a teenager would have, not rooted in the reality of an emotionally reticent forensic pathologist and a deeply wounded man. Things were so much more complex with the two of them. They were FBI partners, for god’s sake. A romantic relationship between them was forbidden. They would have to pretend they were just platonic partners during the day while unfurling themselves to each other in the privacy of their own apartments at night. And if anyone at the Bureau ever found out, they could be separated. The stakes were high. Scully used to think they were too high, and was content to swallow her feelings and just be Mulder’s partner and friend. But now, friendship simply wasn’t enough anymore. For either one of them. Perhaps being able to be together romantically was worth the delicate balance between their personal lives and work. Maybe for one of the few times in her life, the yearnings of Scully’s heart meant more than protocol and procedure. It would be hard to live a dual existence, partners at work and lovers at home. But Scully was actually starting to believe the trouble would be worth it.
What would he really say if she told him she wanted their relationship to expand? Would he react out of fear and deny there was anything between them? Would he admit he had feelings for her but didn’t want to jeopardize their work partnership? This might break Scully’s heart. Or maybe, as she desperately hoped, he’d pull her into his arms out of relief and tell her he wanted her? The uncertainty of not knowing was becoming unacceptable. But at that moment, pacing about her apartment at a good clip, thinking about their growing physical and emotional closeness, she felt weary. She was so tired of loving him and acting like she didn’t. She was over ignoring the ache in her heart and pretending to not know how to fix it. At least if she told him, the truth would no longer feel like it was poisoning her. In some ways, she would be free. But was she brave enough to look Mulder in the eye and tell him she wanted more? Was she?
Scully decided, at that moment, after a night spent swimming through her own thoughts and worries, that she was. And she was tired of waiting. She was shocked by admitting this to herself, but she breathed through the fear. This was real.
Scully stopped pacing and stood stock still in the middle of her living room. Her mind was spinning and she felt dizzy, but she knew what she needed to do. She walked to her bedroom, where she quickly got dressed in jeans and a casual top. She then went into the bathroom where she put on a light coat of makeup and brushed her hair. She moved quickly, because she was afraid that the energy compelling her to do what she was going to do could fizzle out if she didn’t act on it immediately. She found her shoes and pulled an umbrella and a dry coat out of the closet. She grabbed her keys and opened the door.
The enormity of the moment pressed down on her as she stepped out of the apartment, but she refused to slow down. She walked to her car with the urgency of someone who was on a mission. Tonight was the night. She was going to tell Mulder how she felt, after so many years of pining. Everything is going to change, she thought, as she started the engine and headed to Alexandria. Everything is going to be different tomorrow.
And for once, Scully was okay with that.