Originally posted under wecouldbegigantic.
1
The first time Mulder thinks about it, he barely knows her.
In fact, it's only been two – three? – days since this woman waltzed into his basement and told him she'd be working with him from now on, and he's been utterly blindsided by how quickly she's managed to worm her way into his thoughts.
He'd been determined to hate her at first. Dana Scully had essentially been assigned to keep him on a leash, and he'd made a promise long ago that nothing would keep him from finding his sister. If this Scully person thought she was going to stop him, then she had another thing coming.
But she didn't try to stop him. If anything, she did her best to help him.
She might not have been agreed with all of his theories, but she followed him, she let him speak, and even though he'd sworn to himself that he'd never trust anyone but himself, he finds himself trusting her, even if it's just a little bit.
When she shows up on his motel doorstep, worried eyes blinking skittishly at him, all of his mistrust seems to melt away. And when she steps into his room and strips down to her underwear, something else starts to bloom in his chest. He tells himself that it's just because he hasn't been with a woman in a while; something inside him is bound to stir looking down the curve of her back, his fingers brushing across her mosquito bites.
But it isn't until she throws herself around him, her head buried into the crook of his neck, that something dislodges in his chest, and as one hand moves to pat her on the shoulder, he feels her quivering beneath him.
"You're shaking," he says, and even though he doesn't know this woman, not really, he only met her three days ago, he wants to gather her into his arms, wants to comfort her.
He pushes that thought away. This is his new work partner. He's only known her three days.
Instead, he sits her down and settles in the chair opposite her, and sometime, as the night moves on, he tells her the truth about why he's here, about his sister.
It's not until much later that the thought strikes him, though.
They're standing outside, rain crashing down around them, and he's desperately trying to convince her that alien abductions are real, and then, her eyes are shining, her shoulders are shaking, and she's giggling, giggling in a way that he would never have expected from this uptight FBI woman, and all at once, he's laughing too.
He's seen her naked not a night before, but this is the moment he wants to kiss her, standing in the rain, her red hair dark and slick against her face.
Even if it's just for a fleeting second, this is the moment he knows that he wants Dana Scully around for good.
2
The second time he thinks about it, he's a few cases into his new partnership, and he's only just starting to realise what a woman Dana Scully is.
Dana Scully is smart, sharp and so entirely unflinching that Mulder begins to wonder how he'd ever managed without her.
That's why something in his heart tugs when Scully's old friend from Quantico starts kicking around.
"It seems like you were acting very territorial," she tells him as they work the case, and once again, Scully's smarts are spot on.
"Of course I was," he says, and what he really means is, don't leave me. She's wearing her hair in a French twist today, and not for the first time, he acknowledges just how pretty she is. Two curls dangle down her cheek. He wants to reach out and tuck them behind her ears.
She's got red lipstick on, and there's that urge again, tingling just under his skin as he thinks about pulling her to him and colliding her lips with his.
Instead, he clutches onto her necklace to stop her from walking away, and even that feels too intimate; his hand hovers in the air as he watches her eyes dart down at his fingers. "You may not always agree with me," he tells her, his skin feeling hot as he looks her in the eye, "but at least you respect the journey. And if you want to continue working with them, I won't hold it against you."
What he really thinks is, please don't go, I couldn't bear to watch you leave.
When she follows him, a hint of a smile as she says, "you must have more than this polygraph interpretation to back up this bizarre theory of yours, and I have to see what it is," he knows it's an admission of loyalty, and the smile he can't hide hurts his cheeks.
3
The third time, it's a lot less innocent.
He's furious at her, enraged that she'd lock him in a storeroom after pulling a gun on him, and it only gets worse still when she enters again and tells him she wants to put an extra-terrestrial worm in his body.
His face is inches from hers as he hisses through gritted teeth, "I want to trust you."
There's a moment, the two of them seething, barely a breath apart from each other, and Mulder could close the distance, he could, he can feel the sparks of electricity shooting between them.
Instead, he turns, and lets her check him.
He feels her fingers on his back and on his neck, rubbing against him, and he thinks that if this is going to go on for any longer, he's going to turn back around, slam her against the wall, and kiss her with everything he's got.
He almost does.
Instead, he pulls her back by her collar, pulling her shirt down so that he can check that she's not infected, his fingers deftly brushing her hair out of his way as his hand cups her neck.
He wants to pull her towards him, to kiss her so hard that his lips hurt, he wants to do more than that, he wants them to stay in this locked room, instead of going outside, and he wants Dana Scully to be his.
Later, back in DC, he'll look back on that one possessive thought with a raised eyebrow and chalk it down to the atmosphere.
4
The fourth time, he's feeling a mix of jealousy and protectiveness all in one.
Scully's desperate to save an ex-boyfriend of hers, a man that Mulder's pretty sure is long gone, his body inhabited by another man's mind.
He can't get the feeling out of his chest that something terrible is going to happen to her, and when he gets a phone call, from Willis-But-Not-Willis, his heart drops.
"Let me talk to her," he says, desperate.
"Mulder—"
She only manages one word, but it's enough for him to know that Scully's in danger, serious danger, and wherever she is, he's not there to help.
He suddenly gets this urge to hit something.
Later, when Lula Philips won't let him speak to Scully, he feels his anger bubbling over.
"You listen to me," he says, and realises that he's growling, "you lay one hand on Scully and so help me God—"
There are so many ways he could end the sentence before he's cut off, so many threats that he could make, that he wants to make, because nobody takes Dana Scully, nobody is allowed to touch Dana Scully.
Later, when he's wringing his hands and desperately trying to find out where they've taken her, he realises that he meant every word. He doesn't have time to unpack that in his mind, to figure out what this really means, and what she really means to him. He's got to find her first.
"This one's important to me," he tells the task force, but what he really means is she's important to me.
When they find her, handcuffed to the radiator, looking a wreck with messy hair and a bloody lip, Mulder wants to kiss her. Out of relief, he justifies it to himself. Relief.
Scully isn't interested in him though, she's calling out Jack's name, trying to get him to wake up, and something sinks in Mulder's chest. Disappointment? Jealousy? He doesn't know.
He watches as Scully packs all of Jack's old things away, and there's that urge again, not to hit something this time, but to pull her close and kiss the pain away. He's getting used to these thoughts by now, they've been popping up out of nowhere, but now, as she's holding an old gift in his hand, Mulder can't help but wonder what it might be like to be dating Dana Scully.
That's another thought to push away. Scully is his colleague, nothing more.
But try as he might, there's one urge that he just can't push away: the desire to protect her, to shield her from harm.
That's natural, he tells himself, we're partners, and ignores the part of himself that knows it's because she's more than that.
5
It's not the fifth time, because countless moments have passed when he's thought about it, when he's imagined tucking his finger under her chin and pulling her up to kiss her, but it's the time that sticks out in his mind.
They're sitting in a car together, and everything is falling apart around them, they're waiting for a serial killer loose on the streets, the x-files are on the brink of getting shut down, but all Mulder can think about is the woman sitting next to him.
"I'd hate to see you carry an official reprimand in your career file because of me," he says, but what he really means is, I don't want you getting in danger because of me.
"I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you," she says, and his heart pounds.
"If there's an iced tea in that bag, it could be love," he tells her, but he doesn't tell her what he's really thinking.
Maybe it already is.
She stares at her lap for a moment, pursing her lips before she dips into the bag. "Must be fate, Mulder," she says, pulling out a paper cup and handing it to him. "Root beer."
He tips his head back and sighs, as if it's a joke, as if he's just kidding around, when really he's thinking, it's you, Scully, you, you, you, do you have any idea how much I care about you?
She tells him he's delirious, and he knows it's because they've never broached the idea that they might be more than just platonic work partners, and the desire rises in his stomach again.
She's so close, inches away from him really, it would take nothing from him to lift the hair from her face, cup her cheek and kiss her softly. His fingers itch to feel the touch of her skin, to touch her face, and he finds himself lost in imagining what her lips would feel like under his.
Instead, he backs away.
"And you'll call me if anything happens, immediately," he says, "I'll be here."
I'll always be here for you, Scully.
And then he leaves the car, back out into the cold night air, tiredness tugging at his eyes and limbs.
It's not love, he thinks.
But somehow, he knows he's heading that way.