Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing my other X-Files fic the other day, so I decided to have another go. It's slightly suggestive, but I don't think it's worthy of an M rating. I hope you enjoy!
Abandoned House
Boston, Massachusetts
October 12th, 1997
8:36 P.M.
The head of the Boston police department requested their help after finding four similarly-maimed bodies in the span of a week. They normally wouldn't think of this case as an X-File, but all four bodies were missing their internal organs. All of them. What added to the cases' bizarre nature was that there wasn't a single incision mark on the body. Nothing indicating how the organs were harvested.
After a bit of investigating Mulder was certain that an ex-mafia member somehow, his reasoning still lost on Scully, was able to extract the organs via some sort of suction through the nasal cavity. Scully agreed that there was trauma in the nose, but she was adamant that his theory was implausible.
Now, after a day of searching, Mulder was positive he found the old house the guy used to execute his crimes. Mulder felt it in his gut that the guy was in there with the most recent victim, and he didn't think twice before barging into the house without the proper team, only Scully covering his back.
After picking the front door lock, they made their way down the hallway as silently as possible. Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest, but kept her calm exterior alert and ready for action. As Mulder was looking ahead, she routinely checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming up from behind them. She honestly had reservations about them entering the house alone, with the brutal nature of the crimes, but Mulder was a man on a mission and she knew at that point arguing would have been futile.
She was in the middle of checking the rear when her body fully collided with Mulder's taller form. She looked up to see why he had stopped when she saw the intense look of focus on his face. He was looking down at the door handle by his waist. Just as she was about to ask what was wrong, she heard a grotesque slurping sound. He glanced back at her and signaled her to get ready. As soon as she gave her affirmation, he kicked the door in.
The sight in front of them was one of the most visceral they had ever seen. An average age man was laying in the middle of the room, obviously dead, and he looked deflated. The suspect was chewing on something in his mouth, the item still dangling out with blood running down his chin, as if he bit into a juicy peach. Strewn all around him were various body parts, but in a shredded state. Scully felt her stomach lurch at the violent brutality, and she could tell by Mulder's blanched face that he was equally as disgusted.
"FBI. Put your hands behind your head and step away from the body," Mulder's voice rang out, breaking the silence. To the normal ear, his voice sounded strong and assured, but Scully could hear the fear lacing his words.
The suspect slowly stood up, with a malicious glint in his eye. Once to his feet, Scully felt her heart speed up when she realized how big this guy was. Mulder was a tall man, but he probably came up to this guy's chin. He also looked still had the mafia physique and was bludging with muscles.
"Sir, spit out whatever's in your mouth and move back," she yelled out, trying to sound less perturbed than she really was.
The man looked Scully in the eye and slowly slurped the long tubular item into his mouth, making a loud smack with his lips after swallowing. Scully realized it had just been part of a large intestine that he just treated like spaghetti. Not breaking their eye contact, the man finally spoke up and sneered, "A heart always tastes better when it's been beating fast. I bet yours would be delicious."
Before Scully could process his comment, Mulder was yelling at him again, but with added fury from the comment, "Sir, don't make us say it again. Put your hands up!"
Not paying any attention to the agents' warnings, he took quick steps towards them, closing the distance. Mulder and Scully moved in tandem so that they were both back in the hallway. Scully shot a bullet, aimed at the man's shoulder, and watched in horror as he wasn't even slightly affected. Realizing that there was no stopping the man rapidly approaching them, they both took off towards the front door.
"Damn it!" Mulder screamed when the door wouldn't give. Scully felt something nearing her back and, without missing a beat; took an empty Jack Daniels bottle from the end table near the door, whirled around, and shattered it on the mans face, temporarily blinding him. She quickly raised a leg and kicked his hunched over frame, sending him toppling to the ground.
Mulder took advantage of his moment of weakness to grab Scully's arm and run down the stairs near them. It led to a dank cellar with rows and rows of shelves and doors. Scully could tell that, for once, Mulder was assuming hiding would be the best option. There was nowhere for them to run, he was too strong for them to take on alone, and Mulder was banking on the possibility he didn't hear where they went.
At random, he opened one of the thick, shuttered doors, taking a quick glance to make sure there was enough room. Scully felt her veins run cold. She was insecure about letting her fears show to Mulder, and this was one that had conveniently never come up. She had been painfully claustrophobic her whole life. Being shoved in a closet by Donnie Pfaster and a trunk by Duane Barry certainly didn't help her fear lessen over time. She never expect to be confronted with it during such extraneous circumstances. She quickly glanced in Mulder's eyes and he immediately recognized the fear that must have shone through. Except, he assumed it was over the cannibalistic murder chasing them, so thinking he was doing her a favor, he quickly ushered her in, following suit, and closed the door behind them. She watched him attempt to test the doorknob, and noticed his wrist wasn't turning. It could only be opened from the outside. They were trapped.
This closet was worse than Pfaster's. It was devoid of anything, really it was more like a cell. It was relatively tall, from the dim light emitting between the cracks, she could see Mulder probably had probably a foot of room above him. But it lacked in every other aspect. It wasn't deep or wide, so her back was pressed to one side wall and Mulder's was pressed to the other, their chests flush against each other. She also could tell there wasn't enough room to spread out her wingspan. Essentially they were stuck in the positions they were in.
After fully assessing the situation, she instantaneously could feel a cold sweat breaking out. There is a murderer looking for me and all I can focus on is being inconvenienced. Looking down to avoid looking at Mulder, she didn't want to worry him anymore than he already was, she tried to implement a relaxation technique she learned from Melissa as a child to help with anxiety.
Focus on five things you can feel. She inhaled deeply and felt her chest brush against Mulder's, startling her. One, Mulder's chest. She tried to backup a little bit to give them room and her back bumped harder against the wall behind her. Two, the side of the wall. She wasn't feeling any better, and her hand raised up instinctively to grab at her cross as a nervous tick, but when she tried to move her hand, she ended up rubbing it against Mulder's front. And he muttered a soft apology into her hair as she finally caught the gold chain. Three, Mulder's leg. Four, Mulder's breath. Five, my thin necklace chain.
Focus on four things you can hear. She focused on remaining still and taking in her surroundings. Mulder was trying really hard to even his breath, presumably so they wouldn't be found. One, Mulder's breath. Focusing harder, she realized the suspect must've not seen what direction they had went. He was pounding around up stairs and cursing under his breath. Two, footsteps. Her mind temporarily stopped as she heard the footsteps approach and descend into the cellar. A cruel irony at her thoughts a second ago. Her and Mulder were still as boards as the shadow navigated between the shelves. With luck that was usually never on their side, there was a rattle upstairs and he quickly ran to investigate. Three, rattling. She felt Mulder shift a little and it reminded her of how confined the space was. If it was bad for her, Mulder must be immobile. The thought made her heart beat erratically. Four, my damn heartbeat.
Focus on three things you can see. She strained her eyes a little, but it was a fruitless effort. There was barely any light seeping in from the cellar, so everything was just a faint glow, and she didn't want to look around too much and have Mulder see how upset she was. One, darkness; Two, the silhouette of the shutters on the blinds; Three, Mulder's ridiculous polka-dotted tie.
She knew the next two were two smells and one taste, but she gave up because the relaxation technique did nothing but remind her of her situation. She thought she heard the bolt to the front door open, and the door slam shut. She wanted to think that he left, but knew they couldn't risk leaving just yet. They would have to wait in hiding for a bit. She started to feel her breath quickening against her will and yet again started squirming in an attempt to form some free space.
Mulder shifted slightly to lean down toward her ear and he whispered, "Scully are you okay?"
She tried to remain calm and evenly whispered back, "Yes. I'm just backed against a wall, could you backup a little bit?"
She saw him shake his head before she heard his response, "Mine's flush against a wall too."
She had to bite back a whimper of fear and she kept squirming from side to side, trying to find any hidden magic corner that would pop up and give her more room. The more she struggled, she more frantic she became, and the more frantic she became the more she tried to alleviate the situation.
Unexpectedly, she felt Mulder's hands grip her hips with a vigor she wasn't used to. Between gritted teeth he pleaded, "Scully, you have to stop moving around like that."
Now cemented in one place, even if it was by the hands of he man she trusted and loved above all else, she felt the claustrophobia overwhelming her. She felt her composure slipping and couldn't bring herself to care if Mulder saw or not. She put her hands on his shoulders like a vice and raised her head to face the ceiling in an attempt to get fresh air. Out of her control, she heard her breaths coming in and out in shaking, quiet gasps that sounded like sobs.
When she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she realized that she actually was crying. Assessing that she was a few steps away from a full blown panic attack she tried to even her breathing, but it wasn't really working.
She felt Mulder's hands soften a bit, and she was sure his self-blaming nature assumed he caused this. He confirmed her suspicions with a remorseful whisper, "Scully, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."
Scully shook her head in reassurance, "No, no. It's not you." She saw him working out her words before realization graced his face.
"Oh my god. Scully, are you claustrophobic?" he asked incredulously. He was rewarded with a shaky confirmation.
"Why didn't you ever tell me? I'm so sorry," he lamented in a whisper.
"It's not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this," she tried to sound confident, but her voice a little too high for the effect.
He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, "What can I do to help?"
The closet in an abandoned house
Boston, Massachusetts
October 12th 1997
A few moments earlier
Mulder prefered to tackle most issues head on, but after seeing the massive guy take a bullet with no effect whatsoever, he figured running away would be the better option. As soon as he was in the cellar, he already knew he didn't make the best choice. He was going to get up any time now.
Taking a chance, he ran to one of the closets bordering the room. Upon opening it, he realized this was a pathetic excuse of a closet, but the look in Scully's eyes told him they were running out of time, so he shoved her in and closed the door.
Immediately his senses were overwhelmed with everything Scully, and he realized maybe they should try hiding anywhere else. He reached towards the knob and felt it remain stationary in his hand. Damn it.
He looked down to see Scully, but was only met with the top of her head. She's probably just trying to remain as quiet as possible so we aren't heard. He slowly exhaled and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. This was a really bad situation that was only getting worse. First there was a massive cannibal on the loose looking for them and he was trapped in a confined space with Scully. In his fantasies this would be great, but with how flush their bodies currently were to one another, this could get embarrassing.
All the sudden he felt her hand rush up his leg and he jerked a little bit. He glanced down and saw she had simply been reaching towards her necklace. He could only assume she was worried about the situation his irrationality had gotten them into and was finding solace in her faith. "Sorry," he offered.
They stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the man stumbling around upstairs, stiffening when the steps came close to the stairs. He felt every second pass in slow motion as he and Scully watched the man search for them through the shelves. He felt his arms stiffen around his holster, ready to pounce in front of Scully if the time came. However, he didn't get the opportunity because a rattle from upstairs distracted the man, sending him bolting out of the cellar.
They remained tense for a few moments, waiting to make sure he wasn't coming back. He heard the front door open and slam and took that as a sign the coast may be clear temporarily. By the way Scully started squirming, she probably thought the same, "Scully, are you okay?"
She finally raised her head up a little and responded, "Yes. I'm just back against a wall, could you backup a little bit?"
Mulder leaned a little to test, but his back was already as pressed as it could get. "Mine's flush against a wall too."
She didn't say anything, but she soon thereafter started squirming from side to side. He tried to ignore it when their life was in imminent danger, but now that they were in a moment of reprieve, he could only focus on Scully.
He felt her breasts pushed up against the bottom of his chest, and her lithe form slightly entangled with his own. The smell he always yearned to get a whiff of was now permeating the small space. It was what he designated as Scullysmell, something fresh, probably her body wash, mixed with something inexplicably her.
She kept moving from side to side in an attempt, he could only presume, to get comfortable. He wasn't sure if she was oblivious to it or just ignoring it, but his body was flaring up in response to her movements. He felt his erection flaring up, harder than before, and pressing fervently into her hips, which were exacerbating his problem with each gyration.
Her undulating form became too much when pressure was applied a little too hard to the the wrong, perfect, place. In a flash, his hands came up to grab her hips, with a little more force than he usually would ever use towards her.
Gritting his teeth, trying to hide the arousal from his voice he pleaded, "Scully, you have to stop moving around like that." He hoped she would catch his drift without this becoming awkward. She was a medical doctor after all, she had to understand.
For a moment, he thought she was mad at him because she stood still like a statue, but under his palms he felt her slightly trembling. Then, as quickly as he grabbed her, he felt her hands come up and clutch his shoulders. Looking down at her in confusion, he saw her head tilt all the way upwards and heard sounds emanating from her throat that eerily sounded like hyperventilation.
The tear that rolled down her cheek was what made the guilt really seep in. First he ran into this house without asking her, then he forced her into this ridiculously small closet, now he practically snapped at her while ramming his dick into her abdomen. He loosened his grip on her waist and tried to apologize, "Scull, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."
He felt her hair dance on his chest as she shook her head in rebuttal. In an un-Scully like whisper, she sighed, "No, no. It's not you."
Mulder was thrown for a loop trying to understand what could make his normally unperturbed partner so upset. He could tell she was disgusted at the gore upstairs, but as a medical doctor, it wasn't really that out of her element. She had been in worse life threatening situations than this before and it didn't evoke this reaction before. His mind went back to the possibility that he was making her uncomfortable, but she had just assured him that wasn't the case. Then, it hit him, she was exhibiting the classic symptoms of claustrophobia, but they were very open to one and other and he had never heard her mention it.
It slipped out before he had more time to process, "Oh my god, Scully, are you claustrophobic?" Her nod was all the answer he needed.
"Why didn't you ever tell me? I'm so sorry," he apologized. She hadn't been looking at him in fear over the situation earlier, she was terrified to go in the closet. When the door didn't open, it probably just made the situation a hundred times worse for her. She was on the verge of a panic attack and it was all his fault.
Scully must have sensed his internal battle and, as always, tried to make him feel better, "It's not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this." Her voice almost came out controlled, but her heighten pitch gave away her fear.
She was always so strong to make him feel better. It's not fair to her. He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, "What can I do to help?"
She paused a moment to contemplate before responding, "Since it's been awhile since we last heard him, do you think you could call the Boston P.D and let them know the full situation?"
Of course, even in a state of panic, she is more rational than I am. He nodded and pulled out his cell phone, redialing the local cop they've been investigating alongside. After filling the cop in, he was met with slight disbelief from the other side, "You trapped yourself in a closet."
Rubbing slow circles onto Scully's hip with his thumb, he responded, "I didn't know it would lock behind us and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We're alive, so I don't think it's the worst plan I've had," Glancing down at Scully's white-knuckled grip on his tie had him second guessing that statement. "Look, you need to issue an APB on our suspect and come and get us out. Bring the medical examiners for the body too, warn them it's a bloodbath," he sighed, hanging up the phone.
"Are they coming?" She asked, still trying to act nonchalant, but sounding a little breathy.
"Yeah, he said they are on the other side of town, but that it won't be too long," he reassured. Placing a hand on the side of her face, he prompted her to look at him. "Hey, tell me what's bothering you. You help me with everything, let me do something for you. It will help to vocalize your thoughts," he hoped he wasn't making her more uncomfortable. She did so much for him and he loved her so much for it, whether she knew it or not, he only wanted to provide the same thing for her.
Scully was never one to be vocal, he knew that. So asking this of her was asking for a lot. He could tell she was searching for the right words, but in this moment, he noticed she was slightly distracted from the situation and that's all he wanted.
"Um, I've always been claustrophobic. Sometimes the job requires me to be in small spaces, but usually it's over before it begins," she started. "When I was six, I was playing hide and seek and I thought hiding in the hamper would be a great idea."
Her breath was evening out as she told the story, and he treasured hearing her talk about her past, so he prompted her to continue, "What happened?"
"Um, Bill thought it would be funny to set a cooler full of ice on top of the hamper so I couldn't get out. He forgot about it after a few minutes, he was just a kid, and him and Charlie went out and rode their bikes," I've never wanted to smack a kid before this moment. "I screamed, and screamed, but no one was home and I was so afraid I would run out of air. I think I hyperventilated and passed out."
He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the sides of her neck, hoping distracting her was helping, and trying to ignore the reaction his body was having to this full Scully-immersion. He wanted to hear more, "So what ended up happening?"
"Missy came home from the mall and tried to throw her clothes in the hamper and found me instead. She woke me up and asked me what happened. When I started crying while telling her, she found Bill and beat him up," she chuckled at the memory. Mulder felt a wave of adoration towards the late-Scully sister.
"And that's when your claustrophobia started?" he asked.
She nodded, "Yeah, I think it was exacerbated by my time with Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster," he felt unresolved anger rise at the thought of those two men, but instead chose to relish in Scully's openness.
"Have you ever found anything that helped?"
She contemplated this for a minute, "Well, I feel a little better having you talk to me right now. Once I was waiting in a line and my friend massaged my back and it helped," she mentioned, her words a little softer at the end.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently, and carefully, maneuvered her around.
Realizing his intent, she quickly reassured, "Mulder you don't have to do this. I-"
He silenced her with a soft "shhh" and placed his hands on her scalp. He was going to start from top to as far down as the space would allow.
On multiple occasions, he caught Scully reading something with a hand under her hair. It took a few instances of her doing it for him to realize she was slowly raking her fingernails over her scalp. Many women considered their hair and scalp and erogenous zone.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, because it could lead him to a downward spiral, he started on his mission. Using the slight nails he had, he gently moved his fingers in delicate circles across her scalp, paying close attention to her hairline. He heard a soft sigh and wanted to make sure she wasn't trying to hide anything.
"Am I doing okay?" he asked, hoping his self conscious nature wasn't noticeable. She moved ever so slightly under his ministrations and mumbled a soft affirmation.
He moved down a little slightly so he was at the base of her neck, where her hair ended. She allowed her head to rest against the wall in front of her, giving him better access. He moved the pads of his fingers across the milky expanse of her neck, grinning to himself when he noticed a light layer of goosebumps had covered her skin.
He allowed his full palms to cover her shoulder, and his long fingers draped onto her thin collarbone. He could honestly say without any hesitation that he had never given anyone a massage before. He was nervous that it could be taken as an elaborate version of copping a feel, so he added pressure and tried to press on any muscle groups he felt.
Moving away from her shoulders and upper back, he took one arm in his hands and gently massaged his way down. When he got to her hands, he took the time to massage her palm and every individual finger before repeating the process on her other side. He reveled in the feel of her dainty hand swallowed in his much larger ones.
Mulder felt selfish for how much he was enjoying being able to touch her like this, but from the way her breath seemed to be deep and low, he figured it was helping at least a little.
Finishing up her arms, he resumed where he left off on her back. As soon as his palms met the curve of her waist, he had to suppress every dirty fantasy he's ever had involving his hands in a very similar place, but their bodies connected in other ways. Coughing lightly, he applied pressure to the delicate and strong muscles beneath her clothes. Mulder's hands stilted a little when he thought he heard a soft moan come from the petite woman's mouth.
"Am I hurting you?" He asked, feeling embarrassed at how low and rough his voice came out.
He felt himself grow impossibly harder when her voice came out the same way, "N-no, not at all. Keep going. Please."
He moved tentatively down to her lower back, using both of his thumbs to massage a circle where he knew her tattoo was. He slid forward to a part of her body that was body safe and risque at the same time: the area where her hips connected to her legs. Too far back and his hands would be on her butt, too far forwards and he could get punched in the face. He just ran pressure-filled fingers up and down the area. He quickly realized through the thin material of her pants something that would be fuel for many nights to come; Dana Katherine Scully, his beloved partner, wore thongs to work.
His mind temporarily stopped working, but before he had time to resume his impromptu massage, three things happened within a five second span. First, Scully, whether intentional or not he still doesn't know, pressed her well-rounded ass right onto his erection. Second, the door to the closet swung open, blinding them with light. Third, Scully and Mulder, who had been so engrossed in what they had been doing and were now faced with the possibility of the killer finding them, were so taken aback that they screamed their lungs out right in the face of the Boston cop who just tried rescued them.
"Umm, sorry to interrupt Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, but we found your guy a few blocks over and we have him on the way to the station for questioning," a young cop muttered as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking them in the eyes.
He kept his profile to the side, relying on Scully's shocked form to hide the monster in his pants from the young cop in front of him. Glancing down at Scully, he patted himself on the back when he noticed her face was flush, not just from embarrassment, and her eyes were glazed over. He also noticed that her bottom lip looked red and abused, like she had been biting on it. The mental picture was almost too much for him, but Scully's voice broke him out of his reviere, "Thank you. I assume the crime scene is being examined upstairs? We will meet you there in a moment, we want to make sure nothing else is down here." The cop nodded and hastily took the excuse presented to leave.
He turned to look at Scully, whose eyes were already focused on him. He was about to open his mouth to apologize for taking it too far, when Scully placed a gentle kiss on his lips. His face broke into, what he was sure to be, the goofiest smile to ever grace his face. Looking down at her in bewilderment she smiled back.
"Thank you Mulder, but I'm afraid you weren't able to finish. We'll have to resume this later," she teased before walking to the staircase, leaving a very excited and happy Mulder in her wake.
I hope that was alright and not too out of character, not gonna lie, I am slightly drunk. Between starting this fic and finishing it, Season 11 Episode 1 aired and I cannot believe that fucking twist, but I digress. I absolutely love reviews, they inspire me to write, so please feel free to drop one! Also feel free to add me on Tumblr and send any prompts my way! I'm "gaycrouton". Thanks for reading! -Nicole