Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I don't imagine you need to be told this, but you're not a loser, Mulder."

"Yeah, but I'm no Eddie van Blundth either, am I?"

It's been a whole month of this; Scully refusing to look at him, to talk to him. She won't even acknowledge anything happened. His perfectly correct Scully and her clipped 'Nothing happened, Mulder', which was his cue to never ever mention this again. But this time his mind refused to cooperate; something would have happened had he not barged in when he had. The question as to what that something could have, should have, been is constantly wearing on his mind, his heart. Never on his tongue, though. So it's been a whole month of dodging looks and unspoken words and accusations. Explanations are swallowed with coffee, hidden under pillows or behind crossed arms. It's the way they do things around the basement office after all: you can cling to me after one of us almost dies, but let's not talk about it. Ever.

"You can't even look at me." Unable to keep his thoughts inside much longer, Mulder mumbles his words against the wall. Because as much as he wants to resolve this, he can't quite look at her either.

"Sorry, what did you say?" She might as well be a wall, Mulder thinks, as she continues to look everywhere but at him.

"Oh nothing, Scully. Nothing." He deliberately walks faster knowing she'll have a hard time keeping up with him. Her high heels click, click, click and the sounds makes Mulder walk even faster. He reaches the car, slightly out of breath, and realizes he doesn't even have the keys.

"Mulder? Are you all right?" Of course she's breathing evenly; so much for trying to outrun her. Maybe he should run away for real and see if she follows him. That might look childish, though. So he just leans against the car, away from her.

"I'm fine." He throws her favorite line at her, hoping she'll realize how stupid it is.

"Mulder, you don't seem fine."

"Like you care." He grumbles.

"What did you say? What is it with you today? Can't you just answer me like a mature adult?"

"Pff."

"Apparently you can't." Scully fumbles with the car keys as if they are some kind of big mystery.

"Scully, do you realize that you've just said more to me than you have this last month?"

"Mulder, I talk to you every day." Can't look at me, though, Mulder thinks. He rounds the car to stand in front of her. He reaches for the car keys but her fingers grip them tightly so in the end they end up holding the key together.

"You don't; you didn't. Not the way we usually talk."

"How do we usually talk?"

"Well, for one thing you usually look at me." Her eyes, however, stay locked on the keys and their joined hands.

"Scully?" he tries gently.

"Hm?" Still staring at the keys. He's ready to let go of them if it would only make her look at him.

"My eyes are up here." He tells her. Finally, she lifts her head and stares at him with wide open eyes as if she's trying to prove a point. She probably is, he figures.

"So I'm looking at you, Mulder. Can you please let go of the key so we can get going? I'd like to go home."

"Oh, do you have plans? A date?"

"Shut up, Mulder. Let go of the key." Scully tugs at the metallic object but Mulder refuses to let go of it. He's not ready to let go of this conversation either. They're constantly hiding behind walls, cases and an air of professionalism. He's sick of it. She must be, too, he thinks cause why else would she have been so intimate with his doppelganger?
"What did you two talk about?" The question surprises them both and Scully accidentally lets go of the key as a result. She leans heavily against the car. Her eyes find his for a short moment before she turns away.

"You've got the keys so let's go."

"No, I want to know what you and Eddie talked about."

"Mulder, that was one month ago. I don't remember, all right?" She tries to go past him and get into the car. He stops her with a gentle hand on her arm. She looks at it but doesn't make a move to take his hand away.

"I doubt that. I'm not asking for specifics," although he could probably use them if they were the reason she was ready to kiss that guy, he thinks, "just… what made you, you know. It must have been some talk."

"We were just talking."

"Like we are now?" Mulder asks tilting his head. She's looking at him again; she's throwing daggers with her eyes but he couldn't care less because at least she's participating and not ignoring him.

"Mulder, I'll talk to you about anything you want, but can we please get into the car?"

"What's the hurry, Scully?" Mulder asks but finally unlocks the car. Scully gets in without answering him – or looking at him. Mulder sighs; they're back at square one. She's so much better at this screwed game than he is. But he's determined to talk about this. To get the bottom of what happened in her apartment and what it means for them; the real Mulder and Scully. All he has to do first is come up with a plan to get her talking.

Chapter Text

Mulder decides to give Scully exactly five minutes. That's time enough for her to gather her courage and say, well, anything. That's what Mulder hopes anyway. He gets into the car and sees Scully lean towards the window. You have five minutes, he thinks as he starts the car. The radio doesn't work properly and they're mostly stuck with a steady humming noise. Every once in a while it catches a station and a song tries to fight its way through. It never really succeeds. Any kind of noise is still better than the heavy silence that settles between them though. Two more minutes, Mulder thinks. They can't go on like this.

He dares to steal a side glance at her. She's staring outside the window as if there was anything to see. Her hands are neatly folded in her lap. His proper Scully; keeping her hands and her opinions neatly to herself. There are millions of things Mulder wishes he could ask her. Part of him wonders if this is his fault; trying to be professional with her at the beginning but failing every step of the way. He trusts her with every little detail of his life. And as long as it's about work, she does too. How's the cancer treatment going? Mulder thinks bitterly. If only he could ask her that, because that's another thing they don't talk about. He's supposed to not see her pale complexion, her nose bleeds or ignore it when she excuses herself to spend far too much time in the bathroom. He's no longer interested in just the work (was he ever just interested in that, he can't help but wonder), but in all of her. Her deepest, darkest moments that he tends to get a glimpse of when she's not fine for a moment. When her guard comes crashing down suddenly, sometimes, and he's the only one who can catch her. He gets to do that as long as he doesn't ask her about it. Questions about her well-being always get shot down. 'I'm fine, Mulder', is like a lullaby to his worst nightmares now. Not this time, he decides. Time's up.

"So, Scully," Mulder clears his throat audibly, "the deal was you'll talk to me about anything, right?"

"Well, within reason." She answers almost immediately and he glances over. Reason. There's only one reason he cares about right now and it's why she wanted to kiss that poor excuse of a man. But he can't go there yet.

"How are you feeling? And don't tell me you're 'fine'."

"I feel," Scully sighs and luckily there's no traffic because he just has to look at her right this very moment, "I don't feel all that sick most of the time. Right now, I don't feel sick. So even if you don't want to hear it, Mulder, but I am fine." Mulder nods. She's trying; it's a beginning at least.

"You would tell me if you weren't, you know, fine? Right?"

"Is this really what you want to ask me, Mulder?"

"Right now, yeah, it is." She doesn't answer. He listens to her silence and tries desperately not to interpret it. His mind, however, doesn't get the message. Faster than their car, it runs through every possibilty. Except it never settles on one, because it's something Mulder just can't grasp. His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel violently; at least this is something he has control over.

"I would, Mulder," Scully admits quietly, cutting through the stillness, "I would tell you if I wasn't feeling well."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Thank you." His grip relaxes and he takes off one hand to put it on hers. Her hands are still in her lap, unmoving. It's strangely comforting to find that they're not cold. He squeezes her tiny hand before he removes his own once again. He can't do this when he's touching her.
"So… uhm, about that other thing."

"What other thing?" Scully asks and she actually looks at him. She knows as well as he does that there are plenty of other things. They're much better at not talking about the important things than they are at tackling them. Mulder pushes questions about Philadelphia, tattoos and other nightmares far from his mind.

"Eddie van Blundth." He says instead.

"Mulder, nothing happened."

"But something would have happened had I not walked in."

"I thought this was about you thinking I didn't talk to you. Or look at you." And she looks at him. Most likely to prove him wrong like always.

"I think these things are connected, aren't they?" Scully mumbles something against the window and Mulder can only watch the glass fog slightly.

"What did you say, Scully?"

"Nothing. According to you, I don't talk to you, right?"

"I just want to know," Mulder sighs deeply, "the guy looked like me, Scully."

"Exactly."

"But I mean… didn't you think that maybe? Didn't he seem – didn't it occur to you that I – he – was acting strangely?"

"Because he showed up at my apartment late at night with no apparent reason?" She had him there.

"So you're telling me you didn't notice anything different about him?"

"I thought he was you, Mulder."

"When I walked in you two were… cozy." At least Mulder thinks so. His first thought was that maybe his doppelganger was attacking her. His mind needed a moment to register Scully's relaxed state and their casual proximity.

"Like I said, I thought he was you."

"What did you two talk about anyway?"

"Nothing important." Mulder huffs and he feels Scully's eyes on him. This time, however, he doesn't want to look at her.

"You were going to kiss him."

"No." She answers with her eyes still on him.

"No?" He quickly glances over at her just to make sure she's really there and this is actually happening.

"No. First of all, he was going to kiss me," Mulder laughs, but there's no humor in it, "and I was going to – I thought I was going to kiss… you know, you."

Chapter Text

Fox Mulder can recall a random morning in the August of 1988. Or he could talk about the colors and texture of his first Christmas sweater he was given by his grandmother. He can do those things, because they're like saved snapshots in a folder that's neatly tucked away in his memory. What he can't do, however, is pinpoint the exact moment he first knew he wanted to kiss Dana Scully. Instances of wanting her, increments of needing her jumble in his mind like marbles in a bowl. It's been four years with her by his side after all. But the first time? He's drawing a blank on that.

And for every time he thought about it, he never once entertained the idea that maybe Scully wanted to kiss him too.

"You wanted to kiss me? Honestly Scully, what did you two talk about?"

"Mulder, the guy looked like you. He talked like you. How was I supposed to know it wasn't you? And we talked about normal stuff. Stuff friends talk about." Friends don't kiss, though, Mulder thinks.

"So we're not friends? Cause I don't recall you ever wanting to kiss me when we talk."

"You know we're friends, Mulder. And he was going to kiss me, not the other way around. I just…"

"You just what?" Mulder quickly looks over.

"I just reacted."

"So you didn't want to kiss me – him. Whoever you thought he was."

"Mulder, do you ever listen? I thought he was you! Eddie van Blundth didn't even cross my mind. Not once."

"So you wanted… me… to kiss you?" Mulder grips the steering wheel, willing his eyes to stay on the road. Traffic is still light, but his heart and mind are competing in some kind of crazy race. He's not sure that, if he turns to her now, he'll be able to look away again.

"In that moment I was not opposed to the idea." She answers vaguely and out of the corner of his eyes he sees her hands smoothing her impeccable, crinkle free clothes.

"But it was only in the moment, right? You don't go about your day thinking about kissing me. Scully, now I really need to know what you talked about if it made you want to kiss him – I mean me." Mulder waits for her answer, any kind of reaction. Scully, on her side of the car, stays quiet.

"I didn't mean it like that, Scully." He tries a moment later when the silence rings too loudly in his ears.

"It's fine, Mulder."

"Oh no, it's not fine. Don't start with that again." But he feels her slipping away; gone is the moment of sincerity that seemed to settle between them just moments ago. Mulder is not willing to let it go just yet. "Please." He finishes with a pointed look at her.

"Mulder, pay attention to the traffic."

"We're the only car on this road."

"Humor me, all right? I can't… say what I'm about to say when you look at me." So Mulder looks straight ahead. He can think of a million things she wants to say to him like reminding him once again that this is her life. That she doesn't owe him any kind of explanation. For anything she does. He takes a deep breath, waits, takes another one, and prepares himself.

"I will say this only once so you better listen," Scully finally says, "It's true that I thought it was you, Mulder. I noticed something was off. You – he – seemed so… he was you, but he was like a heightened version of you. I just figured you, uhm, wanted to… maybe change something about our friendship. Get closer in a way. It never occurred to me that it wasn't really you. Maybe because I wanted it to be you. I wanted to get closer." Mulder takes in every one of her words; drinks them up like water on a hot summer day. His tongue burns with declarations of his own, but he knows he can't interrupt her now. If he does, she'll never finish and he'll never know.

"So maybe you're right and I haven't talked much to you this past month. It's not because of you, Mulder. I'm just…"

"You're just what, Scully?" He can't hold back any longer. His eyes stay on the road, though, just like he promised her.

"I guess I'm just sad it wasn't real."

"Scully, I'm right here and I promise you it's me. The real, screwed-up Fox Mulder. I can kiss you right now."

"Mulder, you're driving." She says, but he hears the humor in her voice.

"I can stop the car. Do you want me to stop the car?" He turns to look at her.

"Traffic, Mulder." With a grumble, he looks at the empty road ahead of them.

"Stop the car." She whispers finally. Mulder grins, puts the blinker and before Scully can react, he is leaning towards her. He stops right before her face; breathing the same air he hopes she doesn't think of that night one month ago. He wants to ask her if this feels different; more right in a way. Scared of her answer, he stays quiet and just gazes into her eyes for another five seconds. He missed this. Just looking at her and her not shying away from him in any way is enough for him.

"It's me, Scully." He whispers against her lips.

"I know."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yeah. Only you would keep on talking now." She's got him there. But a moment later all thoughts disappear. His lips finally meet hers in a first, hesitant contact. Their positions are awkward, hands can't reach where they want to go. Mulder feels Scully's mouth open under his and their tongues find each other for the first time and only for a moment. He gently releases her mouth again, but stays close. Not like this, he thinks, and hopes she understands. They deserve more than some uncomfortable fumbling in the car.

"Let's go home, Scully." He tells her and smiling at him, she nods. Mulder gets back into his seat and immediately misses her warmth.

"Maybe we can talk some more when we're home." Scully teases and Mulder can't help but laugh.

Grinning from ear to ear, Mulder realizes he still doesn't know what Scully and Eddie van Blundth talked about. Looking over at her, catching her eyes, he finds that he no longer cares.