you guys don’t understand how much these fictional stories and fictional characters fill me up with joy and make this insane stuff we’re going through bearable
On “types” and the wearer of the pants: pillowtalk in 2018
“Mulder, you know what I just realized?” she asks him, nuzzling his bare chest with her nose.
He cuddles her closer. “What?”
“Phoebe was a redhead.” She pokes him for emphasis, and says it like: a-ha!
Red-head.
“And?” He laughs.
She lifts her head to look him in the eyes, propping herself on a palm. “You have a type,” she smirks.
“I do,” he says. “Dana Scully.”
She looks at him such that she does not need to say: That is not what I meant.
He shrugs. “I dunno, Scully.”
She slides against his body until she’s on top of him, legs between his. “Was I your type all along?”
He chuckles and rubs her back. “Definitely not,” he says.
“Mulder!” She swats him.
“I mean, not at first,” he explains. “And… aside from physical aspects entirely, because you were—I mean, you’re adorable, Scully. That’s an inalienable fact.”
“An inalienable fact,” she mouths.
“But you were nothing like any of the women I’d been with before. Or any of the women I’d wanted to be with before.”
He tucks her new, old short hair behind her ear. “You were good,” he whispers. “Fundamentally, you were just… you didn’t mess with people. You were very upfront. Confident in a way that didn’t make you mean. I… wanted your approval in the way I’d sought approval from other women, in the past. But your opinion meant… from the start, your opinion meant a lot. To me. Because you were so upstanding and…”—he grins—“amazingly difficult.”
“I was not difficult,” Scully recalls. She blinks, primly. “In fact I was rather easy.”
“I was helpless to love you after I saw you in your underpants,” he tells her. “That was a highlight.”
She kisses his nipple.
“But I also would have been helpless to love you if you were six feet tall with an Afro. I just thought to myself… Oh. So this is how a person is supposed to be.”
“With me?” she asks. “You thought that with me?”
“Right away,” he breathes. “And every day after I told you about Samantha.”
She hums. “Tell me more.”
“After… not a very long time at all, I realized I was… very sexually attracted to you, as well. But then I thought that maybe that first night had been some sort of… test. That you had wanted me to come onto you, and at the same time you didn’t want me to come onto you, and you didn’t know which you wanted more, and you were trusting me to decide.”
She looks at him with soft eyes, feeling seen. “I love you,” she whispers.
He wraps his arms around her fully. “I just wanted to do right by you,” he tells her. “And this is… purely retrospective analysis, given all the context that came later, but… I didn’t want to be your… type. At least not for the reasons you thought I was, off the bat.”
“There are some authority figures I didn’t fuck, you know,” she reminds him.
“I just… didn’t want you to want me because I wore the pants.”
She kisses his nose. “I wear the pants, Mulder.”
He rolls her underneath him. “Mm… I don’t know, Scully.”
He squeezes her ass, rubs her milky thighs. “I don’t feel any.”
