Cowritten with admiralty (Ao3), admiralty_xfd (Twitter), admiralty-xfd (Tumblr)
iii. room service
Scully didn't know which had taken longer - her attempts to convince Mulder to take the weekend off or her telling him over and over again that vacation meant vacation and that he was by no means allowed to work between when they left the office on Friday and when they returned on Monday.
If only she'd been able to heed that advice herself.
When she returned from Maine, she felt less rested than she would have if she'd just stayed at home. Her body ached from the near ten hour drive, and she'd only gotten to the second chapter in her book Affirmations for Women Who Work too Much.
In a cruel twist of fate, while she'd had a weekend full of unexplained, spooky phenomena, Mulder had actually taken her advice and laid low, yet it only resulted in winding him up more than when she had left. The whole week they'd been back he'd been restless, trying to find a case, talking about how excited he was to get back into work, how much he preferred her being the one to offer the 'boring scientific explanation'.
He missed her.
It was a thought that would come into her mind every now and then since getting back, even though it was a sentiment he hadn't voiced. Five years at his side had made her pretty fluent in Mulder's wide array of emotions, and from the way he kept asking her opinion over and over and the way she kept catching his eye when she looked his way, she realized he wasn't listless from not working on a case during the weekend; it was because they'd been apart for so long.
Scully had a slight inkling that was why he'd gone out of his way to nab an out-of-town case. There were plenty in the D.C. area that he had stacked in a pile on his desk, but he was insistent that a case in Minnesota required their attention. Out-of-state cases naturally meant far more together time than local ones, and part of her was curious if he was trying to make up for lost time.
But it just so happened this case that they 'needed to get to ASAP' turned out to be a bust almost immediately. What he'd anticipated was going to be a week-long case ended up with them arriving in Duluth, Minnesota in the evening only to have to turn around and leave the next day. The spookiest thing in small towns, nine times out of ten, was the result of bored teenage delinquents.
Mulder had been contrite, clearly disappointed for 'dragging her out' here, but she told him being able to sleep while on the plane was the most relaxing thing she'd been able to do in longer than she could remember. Her only complaint was that she would now probably be up for the rest of the night, unable to go back to sleep.
Scully had been right about that too. She'd changed into her pajamas and had been lying in her bed for about an hour with no luck. For a while she contemplated going into his room and asking if he wanted to watch something, but as soon as her legs were over the bed she heard the door to his room shut and an engine outside rev up. With a sigh, she leaned back and resigned herself to a BBC marathon.
She was enjoying her choice as she became engrossed in the newest adaptation of Emma , but then a few knocks on the door interrupted the climax, forcing her to clean up the vending machine wrappers on the bed and make her way to the door as Mr. Knightley's confession continued on in the background.
"What of my flaws? I've humbled you, and I've lectured you and you have borne it as no one could have borne it. Maybe it is our imperfections that make us so perfect for one another. Marry me?"
Looking out the peephole, she was met with the sight of Mulder fumbling with multiple grocery sacks from the local store. She opened the door and watched as his face lit up.
"Room service," he beamed, holding up his offerings.
"What's this?" she asked, stepping aside to let him in as he walked further into the room, setting his collection of bags on a table.
"I just thought we could have a little fun," he beamed, pulling out a handle of Tito's Vodka.
"A little?" she replied, staring at the bottle in surprise.
"Scully, it's the least I can do," he explained, bringing out several mixers and sodas from the other bag. "After all, I still owe you a rain check don't I?" She was just about to ask him what he meant when he added, "It's no wine and cheese platter, but I think we can still make it work."
A small flush crept up her neck at the reminder of that night. There was something about going to the communication seminar that had dredged up some unwelcome memories.
"We never really… uh… talk much… do we?"
Eddie Van Blundht hadn't even realized how right he'd been when he said that. Up until the warning signs started to go off, she'd really been enjoying herself - enjoying how she felt as she thought she and Mulder were finally opening up to each other. She'd felt embarrassed and ashamed when she'd realized it wasn't her partner she'd been confessing to, but she'd also felt a shockingly powerful sense of loss. One step forward, two steps back.
That night, after he derailed them from the communication seminar, she'd felt a similar sense of loss. Even though Mulder would have flippantly treated the whole thing as a joke, maybe she could have surprised him with being open and honest and he might have returned in kind. When that didn't happen, as much as it chagrined her to think she was taking notes from a man like Eddie, she thought if she came to him with an offering of wine and a willingness to connect, that maybe they could. She'd just gone into remission, she was feeling better, and she wanted to recreate that moment.
"Well, what's stopping us?"
Scully looked over and watched him as he poured vodka into two red solo cups, haphazardly grabbing mixers as he went along. He was still in the fitted grey t-shirt and jeans he'd been wearing earlier, but somehow during his walk into the room he'd kicked off his shoes and was standing in his worn socks.
She felt a little underdressed in comparison; her pajamas for the night were just an old t-shirt and cotton shorts, and she'd taken off her bra already. She felt the urge to curve her shoulders in and cross her arms in front of her chest to make it a little less obvious, but he'd seen her like this too many times over the past few years for her to be coy. And she knew Mulder had a talent for being an absolute gentleman, despite the occasional glance.
"Thanks for getting all this," she stated, crawling onto the bed and sitting off to the side so he'd have room.
"Of course," he replied, holding up the cups to make sure they were even. "Voila!" Mulder proclaimed as he turned around, handing her an orange cocktail. She sniffed it tentatively and winced at the smell. "Oh come on," he chuckled at the reaction.
He scooted onto the bed where she'd just been earlier and sat with his back to the headboard. She brought the rim of the cup to her lip and gulped down a mouthful of liquid, only to regret it immediately.
"Jesus, Mulder," she sputtered with a cough, her whole face wincing as the alcohol burned warmly down her throat.
"Are you implying I shouldn't pursue bartending as a secondary career choice?" he teased, laughing as she tried to recover.
"How many shots did you put in this?" she asked, eyeing the cup skeptically.
"I dunno, I just did half and half," he shrugged.
"That's like six shots, Mulder!"
"I thought you were Irish?" Mulder teased before taking a big swig of his own drink. A suspiciously big swig.
She leaned over and took the cup out of his hand, ignoring an offhand comment about her having cooties, and drank from his, surprised when his went down much easier. "Mulder!" she balked.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"You barely have any," she pointed out.
"I don't drink very often and I fear I have a less than impressive tolerance," he explained. "I've seen some wine at your place so I figured you dabbled more frequently."
"And I'm half your size," she corrected, handing him the drink originally meant for her. "I think I'd have to have a problem for me to have the same tolerance as you."
"Oh come on, it can't be that bad," he laughed before taking a drink, regret painting his face immediately. "I stand corrected."
She smiled as he inhaled a sharp breath between clenched teeth as his face twisted. "Told you so," she laughed.
He reached over to her night stand and stole a drink from the water she'd left there. "That's potent," he choked out.
In all their time together, she'd never really seen him have any sort of alcohol and she realized she didn't even know why. "How come you don't drink, Mulder?" she asked.
He looked like he initially wasn't going to answer, just offering a simple shrug, but then an admission tumbled out of his mouth, "Somewhere along the line I started drinking only when I was upset."
"Did something upset you tonight?" she asked, her brows furrowing.
He immediately moved to dismiss her worry. "No, not at all. I actually tried to run to Blockbuster so I could surprise you with a movie marathon, but they were closed. I just wanted to find something fun for us to do since this case was a total bust. Then I just thought it might be fun to hang out and drink. Besides, I've never seen you loopy," he explained, waggling his eyebrows at his last statement.
"I can't even imagine what your choices for a movie marathon would include. I suppose I should be grateful you don't bring any of your personal collection on the road," she teased, taking a sip.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he deadpanned with a smirk, taking another big swig of his drink.
She rolled her eyes and reached around over the edge of the bed, bending over with her back to Mulder as she grabbed a bag she'd discarded earlier. As she twisted back to face him, she caught his lingering gaze on her body and she realized she'd just all but shoved her ass in his face. His eyes snapped up and he took another drink to pretend like he'd been occupied.
She felt a small flush spread across her chest, but she pushed it aside and dropped the plastic sack in between them. "I still have a lot of the snacks from the airport that we can share. I think it might help the alcohol go down a little better."
He opened the bag and a beaming smile erupted on his face immediately. "Sunflower seeds? Scully, are you psychic?" he teased.
"I think I picked you up a Mars Bar too," she replied, grabbing something for herself. By this point in their partnership, she felt like she knew Mulder's preferences like the back of her hand. Endless hours in the car and various motel rooms across the country had caused her to sometimes feel like they knew one another better than a married couple - minus the obvious intimate details.
"BBC, huh?" he asked, drawing her attention to the forgotten screen.
"Oh, yeah. I was watching Emma before you came in here," she replied, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
He turned to her with a cocked brow and teased, "And you were worried about my choice of movies?"
She laughed and rolled her eyes. "It's a classic, Mulder!"
"Does it make you swoon?" he lilted, throwing back the rest of his drink in a final gulp.
"Jane Austen is a talented writer. I can't deny I find such multifaceted characters charming," she replied with a playful smile, finishing off her drink as well. Warmth was spreading through her body from the alcohol, and she could only imagine the effects it was having on Mulder since his was so much stronger.
"You want our friendship to remain the same as it has always been, but I cannot desire that," he stated in a passionate murmur, locking eyes with her as she said it.
Her heart thrummed in her chest at his words before she recognized the sentiment. She gave him a pointed look and he shrugged his shoulders. "So I may or may not have studied Austen in college."
"Was that an elective?" she smirked, remembering the flack she'd received for her anthropology courses.
"Maybe I just find Mr. Knightley incredibly charming," he teased, waggling his eyebrows.
"Give me your cup," she commanded, holding out her hand to him.
"So bossy," he joked, handing it to her with a smirk.
She got off the bed, feeling his eyes on her the whole time, and made her way to his impromptu bar. Luckily, though his bartending skills were lacking, his selection was good, and she was able to concoct something drinkable for them both. However, when it came time to add the alcohol, she couldn't resist the temptation to add a bit more to his cup than she did hers. It wasn't ill intended, she was just enjoying seeing Mulder let loose; usually his mind was going a thousand miles a minute, and if she could help him relax a bit and open up some more, she wanted to. She wondered if he'd had a similar thought and just used her tolerance as a scapegoat.
"Here you go," she said, offering him the drink.
He took it from her with care not to spill it. "What is it?" he asked as she made her way back to her previous spot, him following closely after.
"It's a Vodka Cranberry," she replied before repeating an old adage a college friend once told her, "It's an alcoholic beverage and a probiotic all in one."
"How considerate," he laughed, taking a generous swig before asking, "What are you doing?"
She'd stuck her finger into her beverage and was swirling it inside. "Trying to mix it together better so the top isn't just juice," she replied, smiling when he immediately followed suit without question. She pulled out her finger when she was satisfied and stuck it in her mouth to clean off the remnants.
Scully heard him gasp and her eyes flicked upwards to him, her cheeks still hollowed around the digit. Realizing the accidental sensuality of the action, she let go of her finger with an audible suction and wiped the remaining saliva on her shorts.
He looked away and took another drink and she watched as his eyes squinted lightly and his lips pursed. "Is it okay?" she asked, worried her attempts to give him a little boost had ruined the drink.
"No, no. It's delicious, Scully," he reassured immediately. She knew that wasn't really true, she'd put too much in for it to be anywhere near 'delicious' unless he was tipsier than she assumed, but she was flattered that he wanted her to think so.
"Good," she replied softly, sipping her own.
They both settled back against the headboard, sitting up side by side. Emma had ended and the new movie was something she didn't recognize. Mulder appeared to be pretty interested, but she couldn't maintain focus long enough to understand what was going on. Her mind kept wandering to the man sitting next to her. Did he really go out of his way to do something nice for her because he felt bad for 'dragging her' out here? They'd gone on plenty of cases that had been a waste of time, but he'd never made an effort like this before. It just added to her theory that his choosing this out-of-town case was an attempt for them to spend more time together.
Had he missed her that badly?
As much as she wanted to roll her eyes at the melodrama of it, she was touched. If he wanted to spend time with her, all he had to do was ask. They didn't need to wait until they were in a motel room to watch movies together and enjoy a drink or two - the distance between Georgetown and Alexandria was only twenty minutes.
Did he think she only viewed him as an accessory to work? That inviting him over to her personal space would be like mixing church and state? She realized every time they had been in each other's apartments, something dire was happening that required their immediate attention.
The thought of Mulder, dressed in his casual wear showing up to her apartment and just hanging out with her brought a small smile to her face, and she realized that was something she wanted. He shouldn't feel like their friendship was designated to the 9 to 5 time slot with the occasional exception of being in a motel room.
"C-can I ask you somethin', Scully?" he asked, breaking her out of her thoughts. She wasn't sure how long she'd been ruminating over the topic instead of focusing on the screen, and she just silently prayed whatever his question was didn't pertain to the movie. She could tell whatever he was going to say was serious as he sloppily tried to sit up straighter.
"Yeah," she agreed softly with a nod, taking a sip of her own neglected concoction.
A look of boyish vulnerability passed over his face and she felt her brow furrow in concern of what caused it. "Did you miss me at all?" he asked, punctuating the question by pouting his lip slightly.
If it wasn't for the earnestness of his expression, she would have chuckled. "Why would you ask me that?" she prodded, wanting to hear his honest feelings.
The fact that Mulder rarely imbibed was becoming clear as she realized that two strong drinks had caused quite an effect. "Because I really, really missed you," he replied. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Scully."
His words took her by surprise and she felt a smile tugging on her lips despite her efforts to subdue it. She considered him her best friend as well but had never admitted it to herself, let alone him. To hear it spoken out loud was extraordinarily validating.
'Missing her' wasn't a sentiment she usually associated with her brooding and comely, six-foot tall partner, but him sitting in front of her right now pouting while seeking her approval and admitting something as simple and sweet as missing her was absolutely adorable and endearing.
"I missed you too, Mulder," she replied, brushing some of his mussed hair with the tips of her fingers.
"I kept wanting to call you," he admitted, blatantly leaning into her touch.
"You did keep calling me," she corrected with a smirk.
He rolled his eyes and tried to take another drink, frowning when he realized it was empty. He turned the cup upside down and shook it in a comedic fashion. "No, besides that. You kept hanging up on me, Scully!" he stated with an accusatory look.
"I wasn't avoiding you. I was busy," she explained with a laugh.
"Yeah, with Jack ," he mumbled, fingering the lip of the solo cup.
Are you jealous? The words burned her tongue, but she couldn't muster the courage to give voice to them, despite her knowing he was probably intoxicated enough to answer.
"What was he like?" he suddenly asked, breaking her train of thought.
"Jack?" she asked. He nodded and she pursed her lips, memories of a night tortured by the images of an ambiguous Dr. Bambi Berenbaum flashing through her mind. To be honest, that situation wasn't all that different from this one. He'd been out on a case by himself, with an unknown woman, constantly calling her and asking for advice before hanging up, leaving her to speculate the worst.
"He was very kind. He valued my opinion on the case he called me to, and he took me out to a nice meal," she responded vaguely.
"T-took you out?" he stammered.
"Yes. For lobster."
"Lobster?" His eyes bulged and she couldn't help but be secretly delighted to make him squirm a bit. "Hang on, I need another drink," he murmured. For the first time tonight, she wondered if this had been his plan all along - to get her drunk so he could ask her about Jack. It had worked, to an extent, only he was the drunk and blatantly honest one.
"Yeah, I wanted to try the seafood since it's what Maine is known for," she responded before taking a small sip of her own drink as she watched him make his way towards the bar.
"Do you need more?" he asked, holding up the bottle.
"Sure, barkeep," she smiled, fully intending to dispose of the alcohol somewhere other than her stomach. He poured straight vodka into her cup this time, then his own, and she listened to the glug glug glug sound of him overshooting the alcohol ratio again. "Did you have fun?" he asked, turning around.
"Mulder, add something to that," she instructed, pointing behind him.
His brows furrowed as he looked into his cup, glancing up at her as he made an 'o' with his mouth. "Good catch, Scully. You're always lookin' out for me," he replied, turning around and grabbing some orange juice.
"Do me too," she said, holding out her cup, then, realizing her unintentional innuendo, clarified. "I mean, my cup, please."
Scully watched to make sure he filled them both enough so they weren't awful before answering his prior question, "Well I don't know if I even count it as a vacation since-"
"No, did you have fun with Jack ?" he interrupted, turning around again with his finger in his cup, swirling it haphazardly, causing some of the liquid to slosh over the sides.
He wiped his finger onto his jeans with the dexterity of a child who just picked their nose before making his way to the bed. "Let me hold that," she instructed, not wanting him to make a mess all over her sheets.
Mulder handed it over without protesting and adjusted himself to get comfortable on the matress. "Jack was a very nice man, but I would have had more fun if you were there," she responded softly, just wanting to give him a little happiness since this seemed to really be nagging at him. She wasn't lying either; many times during the case she'd wished Mulder was there to offer his perspective. She had felt totally out of her element.
A smile spread across his lips as he let out a little huff of laughter. "Really?" he asked.
"Yes," was her only reply. In response, he held his cup aloft and she did the same, both bringing the cups to their lips, only she pretended to drink, and he did not. He let out a loud cough and doubled over, and while he was distracted she quickly dumped the contents of her cup into a nearby wastebasket.
He sat up, eyes closed, composing himself for a moment, then he stated, "I feel bad for him."
Scully turned to him with her head cocked and asked, "Why?"
"Because he only got to be your temporary partner. He doesn't get to be your always partner," he replied.
She wanted to question him about the details of being an 'always partner' but she didn't want to delve into territory that might embarrass him in the morning. "Well, I wouldn't even call myself his temporary partner. I was more like a consultant on the case. A consultant who needed a consultant," she replied.
"But still," he exclaimed dramatically. "Nothing's ever gonna stack up for him after you."
She felt a blush spread on her cheeks and she shook her head. "Mulder, that's not true."
"Is too," he persisted. "You're the best. You're smart, you literally have kicked g-grown men's asses, even my own." He paused to take another drink and she was too lost for words to say anything. "You're funny, you're so, so, so beautiful, and when I'm with you I feel like I'm not a joke."
She'd been flustered during his rambling, but the last sentiment took precedence above all else. "Mulder, you're not a joke," she stated firmly, brushing some of his hair back.
"You may not think so, but others do. Some people don't care what 'Spooky' has to say, but when you're with me, they're m-more likely to listen. An-and people who are normally outright rude to me are less so when they see I'm with you. Sometimes, I feel like… like I'm an alien, but you're my human credential. People are more willing to believe I'm worthwhile because you do," he explained with remarkable coherence she wouldn't expect from a typical drunk, but somehow from Mulder it felt completely appropriate.
She could feel her bottom lip pouting at his explanation and it made her heart swell with affection for him. "Of course you're worthwhile, Mulder," she murmured.
She saw color tint his cheeks and she wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or her reassurance. He looked down into his cup before throwing the rest back. He looked like he was going to get up for another but she placed her hand on his arm and pulled him back. "You don't need another one, Mulder," she stated.
Scully wasn't sure if he heard her actual sentiment because he let the cup fall to the ground as he rolled back onto the bed and tossed an arm around her middle, cuddling into her side. She looked down at him and saw his eyes were closed in contentment. "Um, Mulder. What are you doing?"
"Sleeping," he murmured.
"You're not sleeping in here," she chided, leaning away to put her cup on the nightstand.
He looked up at her, his head nudging her hip, and with a pout he whined, "Why not?"
She felt heat rush through her body at his closeness and she tried not to squirm and cause any other unintentional touching. "Because I don't want to share a bed with someone who might throw up on me."
"I would never," he mumbled, squeezing her tighter.
"Come on," she replied, disentangling herself from him despite his grumbles of protest. "I'll tuck you in," she offered as she stood next to his side of the bed.
That perked him up. He leaned up quickly and tried to stand up, which only resulted in him nearly crashing them both to the floor. "Whoa, whoa," she cautioned, trying to help straighten him out.
"Scully, you're so short," he replied with a laugh, raising his hand to place it on her head and draw an imaginary line to his body. His aim was off and his hand lowered dramatically. "See, you only come to my belly button."
"That's not true, Mulder," she laughed, putting his arm around her and coaxing him to the adjoining door.
"You're so cute and tiny. I bet I could carry you over my shoulder easily," he replied.
"If you try, I'll shoot you," she stated, putting her hand on his stomach to help stabilize him as they entered his room and approached his bed. "And you know I'm not kidding, either."
She wasn't sure what he tripped on, but one second she was celebrating getting him to the edge of the bed and the next his body weight was pressing her into the mattress. "Mulder," she wheezed, trying to wiggle out from underneath him.
"Whoa," he giggled, his chest vibrating against hers as he tried to orient himself.
"Mulder, you're heavy," she grunted, putting her arms on his shoulder, trying to push off his dead weight.
"I'm comfy," he murmured, nuzzling into her like she was a pillow.
As much as she was trying to get him to roll over, her body was instinctually reacting to the sensation of a man's body weight on her, Mulder's body weight on her, especially what he was pressing into her upper thigh.
"That makes one of us," she grunted, freeing one of her legs from underneath him and using her heel to prod his side.
Mulder's attention was lazily drawn to her foot, which caused his hips to shift into the cradle of her thighs, rubbing against her inadvertently as he turned his head. He shuddered, presumably from the same sensations she was feeling, and it caused her nipples to harden against the cotton of her shirt. His gaze trailed up her body until he was looking down at her, his face a few inches from her own, looking at her like he hadn't realized she was underneath him. A toothy grin broke out on his face as he chuckled, "Scully, you're so soft."
And you're so hard, she thought as his erection continued to grow firmly against her. "You're crushing me, I can't catch my breath," she prompted, knowing that would likely get his attention. Though with how light-headed she felt about the situation, she wasn't sure if it was entirely a lie.
His eyes widened and he rolled off her so that they were side to side with his back on the mattress. "I didn' mean to smoosh you," he apologized with concern. "Yer so teeny, but so strong, ya know?"
Trying to ignore how much her body missed his weight, she sat up and turned her head to him. "It's okay."
He was looking at her with a goofy smirk that caused her to ask, "What?"
"Yer on my bed," he cooed, rubbing his torso idly.
She rolled her eyes and stood up, smoothing her hair with shaky hands. "Can you... take care of things from here?"
As she said it, her gaze accidentally fell to his lower half before snapping back up to his face. Having noticed her attention, his smile turned a little cocky. "What if I need your help?" he teased, pouting his lip.
The double entendre made her face flush and she rolled her eyes to try and break the tension. "I think you've got it covered," she deadpanned. "Goodnight, Mulder. Thank you for the drinks."
"Night, night, Scully," he replied, waving at her as she made her way back to her room.
She shut the door and felt her body humming. Her legs were a little weak and she could feel her heartbeat thrumming in her neck. She made her way to her bed and lay down. Maybe I didn't dilute my drinks as much as I thought, she considered. That would explain why she was feeling this way.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a few loud sounds come from the other side of the wall followed by some muffled cursing. She sat up on her elbows to listen and was glad when she heard some clamoring footsteps followed by the sound of springs protesting her partner's body weight. Scully fell back onto her own bed in relief and looked over at Mulder's makeshift bar on the table, his cup still on the nightstand, and she felt a small smile of contentment spread across her lips.
Mulder had done all this for her. They'd spent a night hanging out without any pretense of being on an official case or needing something. He'd merely wanted to spend some time together. He was her best friend and she wanted to do this more often; he'd gone out of his way to make an attempt at connection and she needed to make an effort to reciprocate in the future.
But the cups weren't the only remnants of the night left over. As she lay in bed waiting for sleep to take her, she thought of Mulder's body on top of her and felt a persistent pulsing in between her thighs: pure carnal lust.
For him.
It had to be the alcohol, she told herself.