Tyler Labine's Retirement Party
Washington Plaza Hotel - Grand Ballroom
10 Thomas Cir NW
Washington, DC
December 18th, 1999
11:22pm
Usually in social settings like this where they were surrounded by people from the Bureau, Mulder felt uncomfortable in his own skin. Each glare and every judgemental remark felt like another stitch into the scarlet letter woven into his very being. It was easy for him to play off. The role of social pariah was part of his identity by this point. However, it always bothered him when he saw his reputation rub off on Scully, as if the touch of his friendship had branded her as a fellow persona non grata.
Until tonight, he'd never really witnessed a situation where Scully's options were limitless, yet she still chose him. It seemed this event was a gathering of everyone they've ever encountered at work, she could easily spend time with anyone else, but she remained steadfast at his side.
While he'd been concerned about the scarlet letter she gained through association with him, she was wearing it as a badge of honor, a token of pride. It made him feel better about his own. She just had that kind of power. While the judgement of others burned his skin, Scully's mere presence acted as a salve.
He loved her. It was a constant truth that he was always aware of. Kind of akin to how he regarded his hair. It was brown, he knew it was brown, everyone else knew it was brown, and it was something people could identify him with. Fox Mulder has brown hair. Fox Mulder loves Dana Scully.
No. That wasn't a good analogy. He wasn't suddenly reminded of his brown hair in the middle of the day, with such an intensity it made him forget how to breathe. His brown hair didn't keep him up at night. He never wondered if his hair wanted to be brown.
Sometimes the intensity of his feelings would catch him off guard and threaten to bring him to his knees. He had to admit that the position of reverence would be fitting. If he could spend the rest of his life worshipping the only person who seemed to love him unconditionally, it would be a life well spent.
Scully would never let him though, she was too humble to accept even half the praise she deserved. Instead, he would have to settle with waxing poetics in the middle of small town America, imbuing his love for her across every inch of America's heartland. He couldn't sail across the sea to impress the sailor's daughter, but he would imprint his affection across the asphalt of every highway until she wouldn't be able to look at a map without seeing how much he loved her.
"Mulder," she yelled, getting his attention.
He turned just in time to see her approach him, a beaming smile on her face. "Guess what?"
"There wasn't a line to the restroom?" he teased.
She swatted his arm playfully before holding up a piece of paper. "We won!"
The paper was a reasonable distance from him, but the letters wouldn't get in order. "What does in say?" he asked.
"It says you better like Italian food, because we're going to the Galileo Restaurant at least twice a month for the next year!" she replied. Her eyes were practically shimmering with enthusiasm, and he was certain his looked the same. Mulder had been so focused on the fact he got to pretend to be her boyfriend for an evening, that he forgot that itself wasn't the prize.
"Galileo?" he repeated in amusement.
"Must have been fate," she teased, playing the coupon carefully in her purse. Fate, kismet, whatever it was, he could think of no better Christmas present than getting to go on biweekly dates with Dana Scully for an entire year.
"I'm glad we came," Scully admitted. She hid her purse under their coats on the table before grabbing her drink and turning to him fully.
"Me too."
"I like seeing you drunk and happy. The only times I feel like I get to see you drunk, you're brooding or upset." She was playing with his tie as she said this and her playfulness endearing him.
"I like seeing you drunk and happy too, but I've never seen you drunk before… which is odd because I'm the one who doesn't regularly imbibe," he mused.
"Yeah you-oh," she trailed off with a visible cringe.
Mulder knew she was thinking of Eddie Van Bluhndt without her having to say it. "Well, I guess I did for five seconds before you sobered up," he teased lightly.
"You still haven't really. I'm not nearly as drunk as you are," she teased back. Scully took another sip from her cup, apparently oblivious to the pink hue evident on her cheeks.
"If you say I'm drunk, that means you have to be too. I only had a cup or two more eggnog than you, and-" he explained before trailing off.
"What?" she asked, looking up at him with an impish smirk.
"You're so little," he admitted. Mulder felt like he was breaking an unspoken rule with himself by saying it out loud to her. It was easy to forget with how many men he'd watched her take down, but she was the definition of the word petite. He didn't mean it as an insult, but to a woman who had to fight for her place in these fields, he didn't know if it was an insecurity for her, so he tried to avoid bringing attention to it.
"Little?" she repeated with mock indignation.
"I feel like a giant compared to you," he remarked. Mulder lifted one of his hands and raised it in between them. "Put your hand on mine," he instructed. She rolled her eyes with a wry grin. Indulging him, she raised her hand and lined it up with his, giggling as the tips of her fingers barely extended past the circumference of his palm.
He exhaled in amusement before closing his fingers around hers, trapping her hand against his. Mulder brought their joined hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter like a nervous bird under his lips. If he was making her nervous, he couldn't tell because she was just watching him with her enigmatic gaze, a satisfied expression flickering across her face.
"Dana," a familiar voice called from behind her.
He glanced over and saw that leb tech, Evan, approaching. Mulder didn't let go of Scully's hand, and he hoped the little twit saw. He supported Scully's efforts to get evidence back sooner, it had saved them more times than he could count, but he hated this slimy little weirdo. While he'd rather have her genuine, earned affection instead of the hollow flirting she gave this man, he was still jealous.
"Hi, Evan," Scully greeted with a small sigh, turning around so that her back was to Mulder.
"I can't get enough of you," the man murmured. Mulder was pretty sure it was intended to come across as suave seduction, but it sounded slimy. "I was wondering if I could get another dance with you?"
Before Scully had a chance to reply, Mulder tugged lightly on their still-joined hands, causing her to fall back against him. Extracting his hand, he moved one arm across her abdomen while the other slid across her collarbones, pressing her flush to him. He felt her surprised inhale and he was worried he might've overstepped, but then he felt her hands wrap around his forearms, keeping him in place.
"Sorry, I haven't gotten to dance with Dana yet," he stated firmly. Well, as firmly as he could with so much alcohol in his system. He figured he didn't want to ruin Scully's method, but he didn't want to lose her to this guy again. Evan probably already considered him a nuisance in his quest for Scully's love, so no harm, no foul.
He watched Evan's lips purse into a straight line, and he decided to really piss him off by nuzzling his face into the crook of Scully's neck. He could smell her perfume as her hair tickled his cheek. "I'm sorry, Evan. I promised him once an appropriate song came on we could dance," she replied. Her voice was tight with subdued humor, and Mulder decided to goad her even more by squeezing her middle.
"Oh," he murmured. "Maybe later?"
"Sure."
Everlong by the Foo Fighters came on and Mulder all but dragged Scully away. If the man said anything else, he didn't hear it above the sound of Scully's melodic giggling.
"Is this appropriate? Do I need to make sure to save room for Jesus?" he teased. He turned her around before grabbing her shoulders and maintaining an arms-length distance from her as he swayed.
"Shut up, Mulder," she replied. Scully took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, shucking his hands off her shoulders. Taking the hint, he wrapped his arms around her waist as they swayed back and forth together.
She leaned in close and Mulder mirrored her, always privileged to be on the receiving end of information she wanted only him to hear. "Thank you," she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the back of his neck.
"Anytime." He meant it. He hadn't felt this relaxed in so long, and he was certain he could spend the rest of eternity here just dancing with Scully in his arms.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but the words tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought. "Scully, you're so beautiful."
She licked her lips and shyly stared straight ahead at his tie. "You don't have to say that."
"I know." Mulder hunched over, ever so slightly, just to bring her eyes back to him. "But I don't say it enough." She didn't reply, but she did give him a shy smile and that was enough.
"There's a lot we don't do enough of," she mumbled to herself. He was pretty sure if she hadn't been drinking, she wouldn't have said it, but it intrigued him nonetheless.
"Hey, maybe 2000 will be our millennium," he posed, trailing the pads of his fingertips over the skin of her back.
"Here's to hoping," she replied. After a moment, she placed her head on his chest and his arms tightened around her while they swayed, both just enjoying the moment.
Mulder had gotten to kiss her a few times tonight. Her scar, her temple, her wrist, her lips. That was new, and he still couldn't believe it happened.
He wanted it to happen again.
They kept dancing for the next few songs, simply enjoying each other's company until he felt Scully move against his chest. He looked down and caught the tail end of a yawn. "Tired?" he asked.
"Just a little, but I'm having fun," she replied. He watched as she looked around and took note of the same thing he'd observed. It looked like the party was coming to an end.
"We should probably go get our stuff," she resigned with a frown.
"You're probably right." Mulder let go of her and followed her as she led them to the table. He swayed slightly and bumped into a chair on accident from the new movement after rocking for so long.
"Looks like that eggnog really's catchin' up to you," she teased, slipping her arms through the holes of her coat.
"Oh shit," he murmured.
"What?"
He hadn't thought much of it, simply enjoying his buzz through the night, but there was no way he could get behind a wheel. "I can't drive."
Scully's mouth dropped open in a little 'o' as the realization dawned on her too. "I can't either, I had way too much," she replied, staggering slightly in place. "Are the Gunmen available?"
"Probably. Plus, if Frohike gets to see you in that dress, I'll never have to give him another Christmas gift for the rest of his life," he teased, pulling out his phone.
"Agents!" Skinner called, sounding a bit more boisterous than he usually did when referring to them.
"Hello, sir," Scully greeted while Mulder got into his coat.
"I appreciate you both coming out here. I know neither of you are big on social events. Did you enjoy yourselves?" Skinner asked.
After spending years navigating the usual and unusual methods people used to pry into the nature of their relationship, they were unnecessarily on edge. "Uh… yeah," Mulder replied awkwardly.
"How are you planning on getting home? You aren't driving are you?"
"We were thinking of leaving the car here and calling some friends," Mulder answered.
"Our cars," Scully quickly added. "Both of them, um, are in the garage."
"Uh-huh," Skinner replied, unconvinced. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a room key, offering it to them. "Here. Room 1342."
Mulder and Scully looked at each other in shock. "But-sir," Scully started.
"I-uh, I have obtained an invitation to stay in a different suite tonight," he replied lamely, the bald shine on the top of his head turning red with his flush. Following his glace, they caught sight of another petite redhead who was giving unabashed bedroom eyes to none other than Walter Skinner.
"I didn't know you and Arlene were together! Congratulations," Scully beamed.
"You don't know that we are," Skinner corrected pointedly. "Just like I don't know about you two."
"We're not-"
"Exactly. That's the spirit Agent Mulder," Skinner nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me."
The duo watched in awe as the Assistant Director made his way over to Arlene who, upon his arrival, threw her arms around his neck and planted a firm kiss to his lips.
"Did you have any idea?" he murmured to Scully.
"Not a clue," she whispered back, her breath tickling his neck.
"What do you say we run to the car and grab my overnight bag before heading up to the room? I'm pretty sure we can scavenge pajamas for the both of us," he offered.
He felt Scully's hand wrap around his forearm as she replied, "Let's do it."
As they were walking out of the ballroom, he caught the time on the clock, 11:58, and an idea struck.
"Wait!' Mulder called out, grabbing her wrist softly against his arm.
She paused and turned to look at him. "Hmm?"
"S-shouldn't we wait for the ball to drop?" he asked.
Her brows furrowed as she apparently tried to figure out what he meant. "Huh? Oh!" she exclaimed, biting her lip like she did when she was trying not to laugh at him. "That's New Years, Mulder."
He felt a twinge of embarrassment. "Oh, that's right," he chuckled lamely.
"I didn't know you were into that sort of thing," she replied.
He shook his head with a small smirk and shrugged. "What can I say? I just really like Auld Lang Syne."
"Well, at least you only have to wait a few days to hear it. You know, unless the world ends."
"I guess we'll have to see," he chuckled.
Washington Plaza Hotel - Room 1342
10 Thomas Cir NW
Washington, DC
December 19th, 1999
12:10am
In a stroke of pure luck, they were able to remember where Mulder parked the car, and they were able to navigate the hotel's parking garage with relative ease. Maybe it was the eggnog or how much fun they'd been having tonight, but neither of them seemed particularly nervous about the fact they were about to spend the night in a fancy motel room together. They'd just done the same thing in Kroner, Kansas a few months ago, so maybe it was easier with the first time jitters out of the way.
Or maybe it was because all she could think about was how his arms felt wrapped around her. "Sorry, I haven't gotten to dance with Dana yet."
While Mulder playfully flirted with her quite often, he rarely made a move on her. In fact, he pretty much never made a move on her. When it came to their relationship, he put her in the driver's seat.
Maybe he thought it was safe since her 'little feet couldn't reach the pedals.' If their relationship stayed stagnant, it was at her doing, not his. He was the passenger, he knew the terrain, he had the map, but all motion was her responsibility.
Him being so openly possessive and protective of her went beyond platonic partnership. He was marking his territory for all to see. And fuck if it didn't turn her on.
She liked it, she wanted more, and she knew the only way Mulder would do it again instead of replaying it over and over in his head with regret, was to validate him.
She could tell physical touch wasn't how love was expressed in the Mulder household based on the way he reacted to hers. How he seemed to cherish it. She wondered if that was why he was so touchy with her, was that how Mulder expressed his love and now that he could, he couldn't stop? It pained him to think of a child Mulder reaching for his family, only to be shucked off. If physical touch was centering to him, comforting, she'd do it more. Since the moment he pulled her away from Evan, she'd been trying to reassure him she liked it by giving him contact, and she was selfishly enjoying the way he was leaning into her.
Maybe it was just drunk her talking and she'd regret it later, but right now she'd at least let herself enjoy this evening.
Once they'd gotten to Skinner's-their room, Mulder plopped his duffel bag onto the bed and started trifling through it. She glanced around the room and noted it was quite similar to their usual lodgings, only much cleaner and nicer.
"So, what's in the bag?" she asked, unceremoniously plopping onto the bed.
"We have," he announced ceremoniously, as if he was about to draw a prize out of this duffle bag instead of probably-worn clothes. He paused for a moment, brow furrowing as he pulled garments out of the bag. "Some toiletries, a dress shirt, and a pair of grey sweatpants."
"A dress shirt and grey sweatpants?" she replied. "May I ask where you envisioned yourself wearing this outfit?"
"Are you saying I might not end up on the next cover of Playgirl?" he gasped, holding his chest in mock offense.
"Wearing clothes?" she teased. "I'm not sure that's their thing, so probably not." She grabbed the dress shirt and the toiletries and made her way to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a second."
She washed her face as best she could before brushing her teeth. She draped her dress over the shower rod, hoping to keep it from getting wrinkled, and slipped on Mulder's shirt.
Goosebumps erupted over her skin as the fabric fluttered over the flesh of her ass. In terms of undergarments, she'd only been wearing a thong. While the dress shirt was like a dress to her, it didn't do all that much in terms of coverage. Looking in the mirror, she could see the pink hue of her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of the shirt. At least they'd be covered by-
Scully rubbed her hands over the panels of the shirt flaps trying to find the upper buttons. "Mulder!" she called out.
"Yeah?"
"What did you do to this shirt?"
"What do you mean?" he replied.
She turned the door knob and took a step into the main area, holding the top part of the shirt closed. "There are like three buttons-." She paused as she took in the sight of Mulder pulling his sweatpants up, mesmerized how the waistband caught slightly on his bulge. "I am, uh, so sorry," she stammered, turning around too late.
"That's okay," he replied, clearly amused by her reaction. "What happened with the shirt?"
She turned around slowly and explained, "I-um, th-the buttons aren't there." Scully let her hand fall and she stood in front of him wearing nothing but one of his shirts. There weren't that many buttons missing, but with the size difference, the shirt gaped open to the middle of her sternum, right in between her breasts. Mulder's gaze fell as his eyes roamed her body. Her nipples hardened once more under his appraisal, and she knew he noticed from how he hardened in kind. Sweatpants really didn't hide anything.
"I'm sorry. I think I pulled it off too aggressively last time I wore it," he apologized. His voice was deeper than it had just been and it made her feel dizzier than any drink she'd had tonight.
"I think this just proves what I said earlier," he murmured. His eyes shot to her exposed thighs, and she watched him swallow before turning his eyes back up to her.
"What?" she chuffed a laugh. "That I'm tiny?"
He cocked an eyebrow with a smirk as if to agree, but replied, "That you're beautiful."
Scully brought her hands together in front of her stomach and played with her nails. "Thank you," she whispered with a smile. There was a loaded silence for a moment until she broke it. "Um, the bathroom's open."
"Thanks." He walked past her and she couldn't help but glance down, appreciating his very evident approval of her outfit.
As he went into the bathroom, she crawled into bed and nestled in. The sounds of Mulder's nightly routine were rhythmic and comfortingly familiar. Scully wanted to stay up and talk to him a little bit more, enjoy what had been the best night she'd had in a long time, but her eyes were starting to become heavy.
The next thing she knew, Mulder was climbing into his side of the bed, his weight pulling her towards him. "Sorry," he whispered. He'd turned off the light while she'd fallen asleep and they were plunged into darkness.
"Tha's okay," she replied groggily. She placed her hand down to scoot back and accidentally placed her palm right on his thigh. "Sorry."
"You're fine," he chuckled.
Eventually they found comfortable positions next to each other, and the last thing she remembered was Mulder kissing her temple.
She could tell from the light against her eyes that it was morning. Luckily she managed to get through the night of drinking without a headache, but she still wasn't ready to face the day quite yet. She could smell Mulder's cologne on the sheet underneath her nose, and the thought of being in his shirt a little while longer was too good to pass up.
Letting out a little sigh, she burrowed into the mattress and let her hand slide towards Mulder, figuring she could pass it off as being asleep.
But she was met with a warm sheet.
Her eyes opened at the sound of the toilet flushing and she realized immediately that it was in fact not morning, but the light from the bathroom illuminating the bed. Mulder came into her line of sight and she watched as swished around mouthwash and spat in the sink before washing his hands.
"Muhlder?" she called out. Her voice sounded hoarse from lack of use, but it caught his attention nonetheless. He turned around and stood in the doorway, facing her. She noticed his shoulders were slightly drooped and she couldn't see much else since he was backlit. "Are you okay?"
"I threw up," Mulder replied, sounding like a sad child.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," she comforted, easing herself up on her elbow while wiping sleep from her eyes. "Do you feel better?"
"I don't feel nauseous anymore, but I feel bad."
"About getting sick?" She was trying to keep her amusement out of her voice, but he looked adorable.
"No, I feel bad," he reiterated.
"In my medical opinion, I believe your diagnosis is a hangover."
"Why aren't you? You're half my size."
"Some people are predisposed to having hangovers. It's partially genetic, and the Irish folk are known for holding their alcohol," she explained, watching as he lazily scratched his chest.
He looked pretty miserable, and she wished she had her medical kit. "Hang on," she replied to her own train of thought, rolling to the side of the bed where her purse was.
"To what?" he replied.
She opened her bag and pilfered through it until she found her bottle of Midol — beggars can't be choosers. Snagging two pills and dropping her bag back to the floor, she sat up and patted the bed next to her. "Grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and come here."
Mulder shut off the bathroom lights, plunging them into darkness, before doing as she asked. They were in the Federal Triangle of D.C. so there was enough light pollution streaming in from the curtains to faintly see him. As he sat on the bed next to her, his weight caused her to sink next to him so that her arm was flush to his. "Take these," she commanded, dropping the pills into his palm.
"What's it?" he mumbled, taking them with a swig of his water.
"It's a cure-all. It's an antihistamine, a pain reliever, and it's a diuretic which will help stop the migraines," she explained.
"Thank you." He held the bottle with both hands and drank it slowly before setting it on the nightstand.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. Her mom used to rub her back when she wasn't feeling good, so she attempted the gesture on Mulder while trying to ignore how warm his skin was against her hand.
He was silent for a moment, and she had to prompt him by saying his name again. "Wldyuhldme?" he murmured in a jumble.
"Hmm?"
"Would you hold me? And rub my back?" he asked.
It was so un-Mulder-like of him to ask, he never asked for comfort, she was always the one who had to force her help on him when he was obviously sick. He looked so vulnerable right now, that a surge of protectiveness washed over her and she was pulling him down with her without verbally responding.
"Of course I can," she affirmed, her voice coming out higher than normal. She was glad that for once her blush was hidden as she grabbed the blanket and tucked it around them. Even though she was doing this to make him feel better, her body was reacting to a scenario that wasn't happening. The heat radiating from his proximity to her and the feel of his skin was causing her nipples to harden and her womb to ache in anticipation.
Trying hard to ignore her carnal reaction, she put one arm underneath his head as a pillow and threw the other one around him so she could continue to rub his back. Mulder pushed one of his arms in between her own and her side so he could hold her to him. She nearly let out a gasp as he threw his leg on top of her hip, pulling the fabric of the oversized dress shirt up so that her thong-clad ass was exposed. Mulder's size made it so his knee wasn't even resting on her, it was on the bed behind her as he fully pinned her to the mattress with his thigh. She was technically still holding him, but she was fully consumed by his embrace.
His face nestled into the crook of her neck and she couldn't hold back the shutter that wracked through her body as his breath hit her skin. "So soft," he mumbled against her skin, seemingly already falling back asleep. Ironically, he felt like steel against her hip and it sure as hell wasn't making her tired. He began grinding and pumping his hips unconsciously into her, as if trying to nuzzle into her like she'd nuzzled into the bed earlier. His sweatpants were so thin that she could feel every inch of him throbbing against her and with their positioning and his…length, the head of his cock would brush against her cleft and cause her to twitch in his arms.
Scully bit her lip and pressed her legs together in an attempt to alleviate the rapidly building pressure. "Mulder," she chastised breathily. "Stop squirming."
He stopped immediately and squeezed her tightly against him, humming against her neck contentedly. "Love you," he sighed sleepily.
Her heart swelled as he rubbed her back in an uncoordinated attempt to mimic her. Mulder snuggled her once more before stopping as if remembering she told him to stop moving.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered, pressing a kiss into his hair.
"See you there."