Chapter Text
I haven't written a story in over like 3 years. I forgot how good it felt to put my thoughts out there! I also forgot how much work it requires! Anyway, I hope you all love this!
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He wakes up slowly, trying to gather his surroundings. He’s briefly caught off guard when he sees Scully, laying on her stomach, without a shirt. Her mouth is slightly open and she is probably the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He smiles, not really understanding how they got there, but grateful they had. Kissing her shoulder, he rolls out of bed, heading to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
He catches himself smiling while filling the coffee pot with water. Scully came over late last night, talking about choices and paths. He listened carefully. He was thankful. He was one of her choices, against her better judgement, he chuckles. He had done something right. He thanked the Gods above for bringing her to him. He promised himself that he would do everything to make it work.
Starting a pot of coffee, he reached into his cabinet. He has a total of three coffee mugs, two of which are chipped. One is in perfect condition, just like her. He would give that one to her. She deserves perfection. Setting them on the counter, he filled them both up and doctored hers up to her liking.
“Hi,” he heard behind him, in a sleepy voice. He turned around to see her leaning against the doorway in his shirt. His NY Nicks shirt. Hair ruffled, but still somehow perfect. Probably from when he was running his hands through it last night.
“Hi,” he beamed back, with a smile. “I made you coffee, just the way you like it. That shirt looks good on you, by the way.”
“Thanks,” she absently said, but offered up nothing else. He started to get a little worried. Was something wrong? Was she having regrets? This was not the morning after he had imagined. Scully was not ever a morning person, but this was different.
“Are you okay, Scully?” He wanted to stand up and walk to her, pull her into his chest and never let her go. If she had regrets, he’d slowly die. He didn’t think there was any way he could go back to being just partners. He spent years waiting for her. Waiting for her to be on the same page as him. He has wanted this for quite some time, but the timing was never right.
“Yeah, I mean… yeah. Last night was just unexpected,” she tripped over her words, eyes looking anywhere but at his.
“Unexpected good or unexpected bad?”
She stood there in silence, no smile on her face. Not knowing quite sure why she is upset. Upset with herself before not talking about it? Upset because she may not have been ready? And Jesus, was there really a point of talking about it? It’s been 7 years of foreplay.
She really didn’t know. She wanted to be honest with him. Talk now, even though it is a little late for the talk. Wanting Mulder and choosing Mulder are two different things. What had she done?
With her silence, he spoke. The room was awkward, so he resorted to jokes. Unbeknownst to him, it’d be the first of many mistakes.
“I thought it went well, really well,” he wags his eyebrows, clearly not reading the room right.
“I’m not asking for a performance review, Mulder. I am asking for…” She’s really not sure what she is asking for. She takes a look around the room, searching for answers, trying not to cry.
“What’s going on, Scully? Is something the matter?” He tries walking towards her, but her body posture stiffens, and he takes the hint she doesn’t want to be touched.
“We should’ve talked about this. We didn’t talk,” her voice falters. Her chin is crumbling.
“Well, we’re talking now,” he wanted to scream, but he chose an exhausted tone. She wasn’t wrong. They should’ve talked. He just figured that they’d get around to it, and it’d be fine. Typical male.
“Is this going to change things, Mulder?”
“No,” he quickly answers. Perhaps too quickly. She’d hoped he had a little more to give.
“But how could it not?”
“Well, why does it have to?”
“Because a line was crossed, Mulder.”
“You act like we’ve never crossed lines before or broken any rules. How is this different? We’re still the same people we were the other day,” he countered.
“But it’s different. Our dynamic is going to be different,” she blurted, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "You're never going to look at me the same."
“We’re still partners, Scully,” he choked out, putting his hands on his hips. He felt like he was missing something monumental. It’d been a long time since he dated, but he was pretty sure this was not how the morning after was supposed to go.
“Scully, you’re going to need to spell this out for me. Last night you were talking like you were ready.”
“This feels incidental. We didn’t talk about what it would mean or how it would change us,” she confessed. There we have it.
“Okay. Then let’s talk about it!”
“You’re making me feel like this was incidental and inevitable,” she hissed.
“It was inevitable, Scully. Open your eyes. We’ve been dancing around this for 7 years. You think I don’t want you,” he shouted with frustration. He watched Scully flinch.
“But I don’t want to be inevitable, Mulder. I want to be someone’s choice. I want to be chosen.” That’s when the first tear fell. He felt like a royal ass.
“I said that wrong, Scully. That’s not how I meant it. You have to know that I chose this. I did chose you. You know how I feel about you.”
“I know, Mulder. The feeling is mutual. It just doesn’t feel like we did this right.”
“Is there a right or wrong way? All I know is that this is not casual to me. I did not wake up yesterday morning, on a whim, and decide to risk it all. What are you really upset about? Tell me so I know.”
“I am mad at myself, and a little bit with you, because we didn’t talk about what this would mean for us.” She paced around the kitchen. “Are we together? Are we just two people who fuck and work together,” she shouted. “Is this a one time thing? Did we choose this or did we just let it happen? And now what? Now what,” she cried.
She had more questions than answers. More questions before she even thought about sleeping with him. This was messy.
“Scully, I would not risk you for one night. But I also don’t know how to have a relationship. I never have.”
That was a gut punch. Scully wasn’t your typical woman. She didn’t demand flowers or dates. She didn’t expect a lot from men. Or, so he thought. Maybe Scully was a typical woman, but he’d never seen that side of her.
“I need more. Maybe I need a label.”
“I am not sure how to be that guy,” he admitted, but realized that was not the right answer, no matter how true it felt.
“This is what I was afraid of. One of us was going to get hurt. This was all wrong. I don’t know how to go back,” she began walking into the bedroom, putting her skirt on. She couldn’t find her shirt, but she’d find it later. Mulder was hot on her heels.
“You want to go back, Scully? Back to what? Me pretending that you’re just my partner? That I am not crazy about you. This isn’t easy for me either. You think this isn’t something I want? I do. I just don’t know how to do this,” he blurted.
She whipped around, and he saw the light in her eyes from last night was gone. “I just thought… that when we… you wouldn’t… I would… I guess I thought it’d be different. I didn’t think it’d end like this.”
“End? Scully, what are you talking about? We just started.”
“I thought that when we allowed ourselves to love each other, it’d make sense. It’d be right. You wouldn’t flinch.”
“Hey, im not flinching,” he defended, throwing his hands in the air.
“But, you are.”
“I need some time, Mulder,” she says, walking around putting her shoes on, finding her jacket and car keys. Closing her jacket around the giant shirt. She looked like a mess, but who cares when your heart is shattered?
He reaches for her, like she’s his life line. Maybe she was. Catching her fingers he looks her in the eyes, whispering, “time for what? Please don’t do this, Scully.” He wanted to tell her he loved her, but even he knew that wouldn't be the right thing to say.
“To decide if I can keep being brave enough for the both of us. To decide if I can keep stepping forward alone. You need to let me go, Mulder.”
His heart dropped. Her request to let her go felt more metaphorical than literal. “you’re not alone. I’m right here. I always have been.”
“It doesn’t feel that way, Mulder. It just doesn’t.”
She walks out the door. He sits alone in his living room. Her coffee cup sat on the table getting cold. The afghan he covered her with last night is pooled on the floor. His apartment felt different. It felt empty.
“I flinched.”