You could be nine months pregnant with triplets, and you'd still look hot in a bikini. [ Happily pulled along with her, mouth falling to her jaw, kissing up toward an ear. ] You just might need some help getting into it.
[ And that would lead to Mulder trying to get her out of it, and the bikini bottom probably wouldn't actually make it all the way up her legs, but he thinks the point still stands. One hand still on her breast, luxuriating in the satin and the flesh just beneath - ]
Locked rooms, security footage that shows no one going in or out. Places where there's enough security footage to wonder about it. Now I know you're thinking suicide - [ a nip at her earlobe ] - but the only time people commit suicide by multiple gunshots to the back of the head is when a Russian coroner lists the cause of death.
[ Her tone is as sweet as the grin that accompanies it, though. She loves his inability to be objective about her. Granted, it's mutual; close like this she's definitely taking the opportunity to get her hands on him, sliding her palms over his back as he kisses her throat. ]
I'm not thinking suicide, I'm thinking-- hmn-- [ he almost successfully distracts her with that one. ] I'm thinking a staged suicide. Maybe some kind of remotely triggered device.
I could release my findings to a peer-reviewed journal, and they'd publish me.
[ So biased. So, so biased - but just look at her. How could she be anything less than one of the hottest women ever born? Beautiful, smart, and touching him at this very moment: no one else comes close. ]
For that, you'd need evidence of a remotely triggered device. I haven't seen anything that suggests a wall-mounted gun.
Only because you're peerless. An unparalleled expert in the field of leering at me.
[ Delighted, she gives him a quick peck of a kiss, smoothing down his hair with light fingers. ]
It doesn't have to be a wall-mounted gun. Some kind of explosive? I mean, you'd expect to see some trace of it but... We haven't even explored the possibilities yet. Which we'll have to do, between sipping drinks on the beach.
[ okay, that's a lie-- she'll be all business until they sort things out-- but the idea has a certain rebellious charm. ]
[ Or outlasted them, maybe. Either way, he'll take it as a compliment; here he is with her, reaching beneath her to unhook her bra, the world's greatest expert on Dana Katherine Scully. ]
Mai Tais and Blue Hawaiians every night. [ They'll be non-alcoholic, they can be a little less than 100% business under the circumstances. Shifting off her just enough to get her bra off - ] And we'll explore all kinds of possibilities.
It's been a long time since you had serious competition.
[ Even when they were apart. She's saying it to flatter him, but it's simple and true-- a fact she hadn't wanted to confront when they'd started talking again, but the truth is, it's been him since they were just friends. Certainly since the first time they'd admitted to wanting more than that. ]
Extreme possibilities.
[ She gives him a cheeky grin. Fresh air and sun and his appreciative gaze on her bare skin-- he's barely touched her but she already feels incredible. She rests a hand on his face, thumb stroking his cheek. ]
It sounds perfect.
[ just like this.
She props herself up a little so she can kiss him. ]
[ She's playing directly to him, giving him everything he loves: casual touch, her hand light at his cheek, the kind of kiss that always leaves him wanting more, one of her rare grins. Scully smiling is always cause for celebration, a victory that always feels as satisfying as all the work that goes into it.
(If he stops and thinks about it, he knows she does it more this time around. She's happier than she was; from this vantage point, it's possible to see just how miserable some of those years were, but just look at her now.) ]
Going in for extreme possibilities, Agent Scully?
[ With a teasing smile, one hand covering her bared breast. She's beautiful, tempting the way an all-you-can-eat buffet is tempting. Where do you start? How much do you take? All of it, everything - but you have to start somewhere. ]
[ Being together as long as they have means she doesn't have to put on a show for him, not really. But the advantage is, when she wants to, she knows just how. (And, really, they're lucky; she likes to touch him as much as he likes to be touched. Maybe his tactile habits rubbed off on her over the years.)
The smiles, though, are all genuine. How could they not be, when they're here like this?
She hums thoughtfully. ]
They say you're an expert on that kind of thing.
[ and he's an expert in her as well; the way she relaxes into his touch is unmistakable, her gaze flitting to his broad hand spread over her. She shrugs the robe off her shoulder so it puddles around her, caught still on an elbow but doing nothing to cover her up. Maybe living out in the sticks was the right idea. ]
Sure you don't want to keep going until we can cross off every state? We must be close.
[ And at this point, he knows her so well that putting on a show could be as simple as tipping her head at the right angle; it doesn't take much to get him going, and if the bulge in his boxers is anything to go by, she's got him going.
(It's what she says, as much as anything else. The things she murmurs for him alone are usually guaranteed to catch his interest, whether it lands at his dick or lodges somewhere closer to his heart.) ]
How many more can we possibly have? [ He tweaks her nipple lightly. ] What if Hawaii's it?
[ It's not like he can't do the same thing to her-- a glance across the room, or even a shift in the way he stands beside her, inviting her to lean in against him. Her legs shift subtly, a hint of restlessness as her body responds to his touch. ]
There have to be other places. [ She threads her hand through his hair again, and though her tone is all business, the way she looks at him is hungry. ] At least, I think. I'm surprised you never made a map.
[ All business as well, his hand wandering down her side. He's curious how long Scully can keep this veneer of professionalism up, whether it'll shift as soon as he slips a hand into her panties, or if it'll take some actual work on his part. Down to her hip, massaging over the flesh there, thumb pressing lightly against her pelvis. ]
Name a state, and I'll tell you what we did there.
[ The answer's easy: she'll keep it up until it stops being fun.
At least that's what she thinks; even after all these years he surprises her, and lately she's been more sensitive than ever; it's possible he'll prove an effective distraction.
She answers with a curl of a smile-- intentionally picking a state she knows the answer to. One of several answers, probably, but given how they're occupied she suspects he'll catch her drift. ]
[ He gets where she's going - or thinks he does, anyway. Hand moving along her panties, enjoying the silkiness of the fabric as he strokes it over her mound, Mulder gives her an amused look. ]
How could I forget your stint as a dating guru? And those storms.
[ Does she believe the weather reflected a man's tumultuous, thwarted feelings?
She at least thinks she understands something of it. Love that is a force of nature. Desire that moves mountains. The two of them together have created life-- what's a bit of hail in comparison to that? ]
[ He has to think about this one - but he's going to do it with a hand down her pants, because of course he is. Two of his fingers delve into her pussy, his smile growing a little more wolfish when he finds her flesh already damp. He's hardly touched her, and she feels amazing. ]
We must've gone to Vermont. I know there was a case there.
[ There was a time when she would've worried this made for weird dirty talk. One of the blessings of age; she's given up that kind of self-consciousness, for the most part. Her grin widens, her legs spreading a little to give him more space. ]
A bird? I don't remember that.
[ Mulder knows just how to touch her; he always has, or maybe it's just that he can't go wrong, or some combination of both. She doesn't really try to hold back a sigh of pleasure as he sinks his fingers into her.
Angled like this she can't really return the favor, but she keeps playing with his hair. ]
[ To the contrary, this is some of the hottest dirty talk that might be possible. Mulder's into it, especially the grin she gives him. ]
Yeah.
[ Somehow, his fingers finding her clit helps him remember. He can't even use muscle memory as an excuse, because he's pretty sure they weren't fucking at that point. Were they? He'd have to dig up the X-file to know for sure. ]
There was a demonic entity that came through mirrors. Glass - anything with a reflection. Remember?
[ Fuck, he's so good at that. It has to be more than just practice. It's only fitting that Spooky Mulder have at least one preternaturally sharp skill. ]
I don't remember,
[ she murmurs, surprised at it. She doesn't have his photographic recall, but-- well, most of their cases are pretty memorable. At the least she should remember arguing about demonic entities in mirrors. ]
I remember a mirror exploding in-- I think, New Hampshire?
[ Not Vermont. Decidedly not Vermont. Two fingers sliding inside her, easy as anything. If he could choose one ability to be absolutely superhuman at, fucking Dana Scully probably wouldn't be his first option, but he's not about to complain about the results here. ]
Which one was that? Was that the time with the girls' birthday?
[ She's determined not to give up on conversation so easily. That is, however, easier said than done. Her eyes flutter shut a moment, though maybe she's just thinking hard. (She's not.) ]
That one-- the hysterical town.
[ Now she smiles again; the memory is a strange one but time's taken any sting out of the way she felt there. ]
And that blonde detective with the great ass, [ she adds, teasing. ]
[ But he doesn't mind being sidetracked while he fingers her, especially when she's so clearly enjoying herself. She's going to hold on until she can't think to speak anymore, and that means Mulder's going to have to put some effort in. But first, amused - ]
Detective White! [ Just for you, Scully, the name of a rival who wasn't. ] See, her, I remember. She just about ripped my clothes off and had her way with me. If you hadn't've come in, I would've had to fight her off myself.
[ Is that how it went? Decades later, he thinks it's probably close enough. ]
[ The human psyche is complicated. Even now she can't help a little flare of anger at the name, even though it means nothing-- even knowing it meant nothing at the time. Even with the very real evidence of him fucking her slowly with his clever fingers, there's something like an echo of jealousy-- and not entirely unpleasant, to be honest; it's a phantom pain that heightens her pleasure, a reminder of the delicious, insufferable tension of their partnership at the time. ]
I remember you going on about how good she smelled,
[ she counters, her eyes dark. She remembers him standing too close to her, the way it had made the hairs on her neck stand, the flood of intensity she couldn't make sense of. She'd wanted him and she'd hated him, in that strange little town.
She drags her hand down his neck, his chest, blindly trying to shove it between them to reach his cock. It's an awkward position but she wants to touch him, she doesn't care. ]
She really did. [ He remembers that, the way Scully'd just about pushed him up against a wall about it. How he'd fantasized after about Scully really giving in and going for it, proving to him exactly who he should be focusing on. ] But not nearly as good as you do.
[ He tilts his head so he can give her throat a demonstrative sniff. It's true, after all - and, more importantly, summoning up the ghosts of jealousies past requires summoning up everything that should have been said and wasn't. Especially if he's fingerbanging her at the time. Exorcising old daydreams, not to mention astrology-induced manias that didn't quite fit the people they were then. ]
Vermont was...you know what? [ A little sound like he's trying to suppress a groan, once her hand finds the cloth covering his erection. There's a conversation happening here, Fox. Focus. ] I don't think you were there. I think it was just me.
[ It's exactly the right thing to say, resolving the echo of silly jealousy with a swell of undeniable victory. She feels powerful and vindicated and wanted, making a needy little sound as he presses his face into her throat.
It probably goes without saying she'd fantasized about it-- watching, interrupting, throwing White to the floor and staking her own claim, furious and frenzied under ill stars. Hard to think any of that matters now, when she's clumsily stroking him through his boxers, when he doesn't want anyone but her. ]
I guess we can still count it, [ she reasons, practical but breathless, her hips rolling against him. After all, there were cases he didn't accompany her on-- though the less said about that the better. Thoughts of his death might spoil the mood. ] I'm sure there are places-- [ Is this pause for thought? Or it just, God, right there, like that-- until she blurts out-- ] Connecticut?
[ Skiing in Vermont, and then curling up in some picturesque cabin with a roaring fire and a bearskin rug - okay, screwing on the bearskin rug in the firelight - sounds pretty damned great, right about now. Even if he can't find a way to make the American taxpayer cover it, Mulder likes the idea.
God, right there, like that. He curls his fingers inside her, pressing against her walls and dragging down toward her entrance. ]
We must've driven through Connecticut a million times. Every time we went anywhere north of it. [ And now that he's down at her neck, he kisses her there, teeth grazing her skin. ] You went to Maine without me.
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[ And that would lead to Mulder trying to get her out of it, and the bikini bottom probably wouldn't actually make it all the way up her legs, but he thinks the point still stands. One hand still on her breast, luxuriating in the satin and the flesh just beneath - ]
Locked rooms, security footage that shows no one going in or out. Places where there's enough security footage to wonder about it. Now I know you're thinking suicide - [ a nip at her earlobe ] - but the only time people commit suicide by multiple gunshots to the back of the head is when a Russian coroner lists the cause of death.
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[ Her tone is as sweet as the grin that accompanies it, though. She loves his inability to be objective about her. Granted, it's mutual; close like this she's definitely taking the opportunity to get her hands on him, sliding her palms over his back as he kisses her throat. ]
I'm not thinking suicide, I'm thinking-- hmn-- [ he almost successfully distracts her with that one. ] I'm thinking a staged suicide. Maybe some kind of remotely triggered device.
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[ So biased. So, so biased - but just look at her. How could she be anything less than one of the hottest women ever born? Beautiful, smart, and touching him at this very moment: no one else comes close. ]
For that, you'd need evidence of a remotely triggered device. I haven't seen anything that suggests a wall-mounted gun.
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[ Delighted, she gives him a quick peck of a kiss, smoothing down his hair with light fingers. ]
It doesn't have to be a wall-mounted gun. Some kind of explosive? I mean, you'd expect to see some trace of it but... We haven't even explored the possibilities yet. Which we'll have to do, between sipping drinks on the beach.
[ okay, that's a lie-- she'll be all business until they sort things out-- but the idea has a certain rebellious charm. ]
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[ Or outlasted them, maybe. Either way, he'll take it as a compliment; here he is with her, reaching beneath her to unhook her bra, the world's greatest expert on Dana Katherine Scully. ]
Mai Tais and Blue Hawaiians every night. [ They'll be non-alcoholic, they can be a little less than 100% business under the circumstances. Shifting off her just enough to get her bra off - ] And we'll explore all kinds of possibilities.
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[ Even when they were apart. She's saying it to flatter him, but it's simple and true-- a fact she hadn't wanted to confront when they'd started talking again, but the truth is, it's been him since they were just friends. Certainly since the first time they'd admitted to wanting more than that. ]
Extreme possibilities.
[ She gives him a cheeky grin. Fresh air and sun and his appreciative gaze on her bare skin-- he's barely touched her but she already feels incredible. She rests a hand on his face, thumb stroking his cheek. ]
It sounds perfect.
[ just like this.
She props herself up a little so she can kiss him. ]
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(If he stops and thinks about it, he knows she does it more this time around. She's happier than she was; from this vantage point, it's possible to see just how miserable some of those years were, but just look at her now.) ]
Going in for extreme possibilities, Agent Scully?
[ With a teasing smile, one hand covering her bared breast. She's beautiful, tempting the way an all-you-can-eat buffet is tempting. Where do you start? How much do you take? All of it, everything - but you have to start somewhere. ]
I don't know. Sounds kinda...spooky.
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The smiles, though, are all genuine. How could they not be, when they're here like this?
She hums thoughtfully. ]
They say you're an expert on that kind of thing.
[ and he's an expert in her as well; the way she relaxes into his touch is unmistakable, her gaze flitting to his broad hand spread over her. She shrugs the robe off her shoulder so it puddles around her, caught still on an elbow but doing nothing to cover her up. Maybe living out in the sticks was the right idea. ]
Sure you don't want to keep going until we can cross off every state? We must be close.
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(It's what she says, as much as anything else. The things she murmurs for him alone are usually guaranteed to catch his interest, whether it lands at his dick or lodges somewhere closer to his heart.) ]
How many more can we possibly have? [ He tweaks her nipple lightly. ] What if Hawaii's it?
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There have to be other places. [ She threads her hand through his hair again, and though her tone is all business, the way she looks at him is hungry. ] At least, I think. I'm surprised you never made a map.
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[ All business as well, his hand wandering down her side. He's curious how long Scully can keep this veneer of professionalism up, whether it'll shift as soon as he slips a hand into her panties, or if it'll take some actual work on his part. Down to her hip, massaging over the flesh there, thumb pressing lightly against her pelvis. ]
Name a state, and I'll tell you what we did there.
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At least that's what she thinks; even after all these years he surprises her, and lately she's been more sensitive than ever; it's possible he'll prove an effective distraction.
She answers with a curl of a smile-- intentionally picking a state she knows the answer to. One of several answers, probably, but given how they're occupied she suspects he'll catch her drift. ]
Kansas.
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Don't tell me you forgot the Rain King.
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[ Does she believe the weather reflected a man's tumultuous, thwarted feelings?
She at least thinks she understands something of it. Love that is a force of nature. Desire that moves mountains. The two of them together have created life-- what's a bit of hail in comparison to that? ]
What about.. hmn, Vermont?
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[ He has to think about this one - but he's going to do it with a hand down her pants, because of course he is. Two of his fingers delve into her pussy, his smile growing a little more wolfish when he finds her flesh already damp. He's hardly touched her, and she feels amazing. ]
We must've gone to Vermont. I know there was a case there.
[ Damn, what was it? ]
Something about a bird?
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A bird? I don't remember that.
[ Mulder knows just how to touch her; he always has, or maybe it's just that he can't go wrong, or some combination of both. She doesn't really try to hold back a sigh of pleasure as he sinks his fingers into her.
Angled like this she can't really return the favor, but she keeps playing with his hair. ]
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Yeah.
[ Somehow, his fingers finding her clit helps him remember. He can't even use muscle memory as an excuse, because he's pretty sure they weren't fucking at that point. Were they? He'd have to dig up the X-file to know for sure. ]
There was a demonic entity that came through mirrors. Glass - anything with a reflection. Remember?
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I don't remember,
[ she murmurs, surprised at it. She doesn't have his photographic recall, but-- well, most of their cases are pretty memorable. At the least she should remember arguing about demonic entities in mirrors. ]
I remember a mirror exploding in-- I think, New Hampshire?
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[ Not Vermont. Decidedly not Vermont. Two fingers sliding inside her, easy as anything. If he could choose one ability to be absolutely superhuman at, fucking Dana Scully probably wouldn't be his first option, but he's not about to complain about the results here. ]
Which one was that? Was that the time with the girls' birthday?
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That one-- the hysterical town.
[ Now she smiles again; the memory is a strange one but time's taken any sting out of the way she felt there. ]
And that blonde detective with the great ass, [ she adds, teasing. ]
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[ But he doesn't mind being sidetracked while he fingers her, especially when she's so clearly enjoying herself. She's going to hold on until she can't think to speak anymore, and that means Mulder's going to have to put some effort in. But first, amused - ]
Detective White! [ Just for you, Scully, the name of a rival who wasn't. ] See, her, I remember. She just about ripped my clothes off and had her way with me. If you hadn't've come in, I would've had to fight her off myself.
[ Is that how it went? Decades later, he thinks it's probably close enough. ]
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I remember you going on about how good she smelled,
[ she counters, her eyes dark. She remembers him standing too close to her, the way it had made the hairs on her neck stand, the flood of intensity she couldn't make sense of. She'd wanted him and she'd hated him, in that strange little town.
She drags her hand down his neck, his chest, blindly trying to shove it between them to reach his cock. It's an awkward position but she wants to touch him, she doesn't care. ]
But I don't remember Vermont.
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[ He tilts his head so he can give her throat a demonstrative sniff. It's true, after all - and, more importantly, summoning up the ghosts of jealousies past requires summoning up everything that should have been said and wasn't. Especially if he's fingerbanging her at the time. Exorcising old daydreams, not to mention astrology-induced manias that didn't quite fit the people they were then. ]
Vermont was...you know what? [ A little sound like he's trying to suppress a groan, once her hand finds the cloth covering his erection. There's a conversation happening here, Fox. Focus. ] I don't think you were there. I think it was just me.
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It probably goes without saying she'd fantasized about it-- watching, interrupting, throwing White to the floor and staking her own claim, furious and frenzied under ill stars. Hard to think any of that matters now, when she's clumsily stroking him through his boxers, when he doesn't want anyone but her. ]
I guess we can still count it, [ she reasons, practical but breathless, her hips rolling against him. After all, there were cases he didn't accompany her on-- though the less said about that the better. Thoughts of his death might spoil the mood. ] I'm sure there are places-- [ Is this pause for thought? Or it just, God, right there, like that-- until she blurts out-- ] Connecticut?
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[ Skiing in Vermont, and then curling up in some picturesque cabin with a roaring fire and a bearskin rug - okay, screwing on the bearskin rug in the firelight - sounds pretty damned great, right about now. Even if he can't find a way to make the American taxpayer cover it, Mulder likes the idea.
God, right there, like that. He curls his fingers inside her, pressing against her walls and dragging down toward her entrance. ]
We must've driven through Connecticut a million times. Every time we went anywhere north of it. [ And now that he's down at her neck, he kisses her there, teeth grazing her skin. ] You went to Maine without me.
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