From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Fri, 19 Jun 2009 10:58:21 -0500 (CDT) Subject: Accidental Admission by Brae Meyers Source: direct Reply To: bralynne@yahoo.com Title: Accidental Admission Author: Brae Meyers Rating: PG-13 (there are some not so good words littering this fic) Category: MSR Archive: Anywhere as long as you let me know and proper credit is given. Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. Chris Carter created them, but Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny gave them life. I'm only borrowing them for my writing pleasure. Maggie is also Chris's, but he didn't let us see enough of her, so I thought I'd remedy that. Spoilers: Triangle and Season Six Kershdom Summary: Maggie and Dana grocery shop while Mulder gets an ear full. Who knew the produce aisle could be so much fun?! Acknowledgement: Thanks to my husband and brother for encouraging me to put the pen to paper again after all these years. Feedback: bralynne@yahoo.com Notes: In response to Haven's Summertime Challenge. Accidental Admission Okay. I'm pissed. I have no right to be, but I am. I finally decided to venture to the grocery store. It's been about sixteen months since I was last motivated to brave a shopping cart with squeaky wheels. Normally, if I want anything, I just stop and pick it up. Never wasting more than five minutes of my time trying to find an item. After all, Scully and I aren't around long enough to justify me braving the dark world of clipped coupons and screaming two year olds. But, I have a feeling we won't be going out of town so frequently with our reassignment to domestic shit duty. So, at seven on a Saturday, it made sense that I should stock up on some essentials, and I actually came prepared with a list. I hate grocery shopping. More appropriately, I hate the terror of having to decide between Nacho Cheese or Ranch Doritos. Imagine my shock tonight when I realized they now come in several other flavors recently added to their repertoire. I'm not good with choices. I suffer from an inability to decide. You would think a variety of tortillas wouldn't terrify the ever impulsive Agent Spooky, but I'm not good at taking a plunge. Regardless of my perceived reputation for impulsiveness, I'm constantly second-guessing myself. Ask Scully. She's far too familiar with my insecurity complex. So here I am pissed off at the damn grocery depot from hell when who should I bump into but the object of my unrequited affection. Scully. Yes, I admit it. She is the center of my universe, the one I pine after even though I never actually have the guts to try and win her regard. And, she's here with her mother no less. Normally, the sight of these two lovely Scully's would make this trip worth it, but not today. Let me clarify. When I say I "bumped" into the Scully women, what I really mean is I happened to find myself eavesdropping on them as Scully stands in the bread aisle trying to decide if she prefers a five or seven grain loaf. She's holding both up alternating glances between their labels. They haven't noticed me quietly observing from behind. If they had, I hardly think she would be continuing with their conversation. "Mom. Stop. It's never going to happen. He's obsessed with his work." She rolls her eyes and decides seven is better than five. "Dana. Fox has more than one obsession and you know it." Maggie grabs a package of white and places it into her cart. Her wheels don't squeak as they make their way toward the peanut butter. I abandon my cart and decide I'm in the mood to further investigate this voyeuristic endeavor. I make a mental note that I had finally settled on the Ranch before being mesmerized by the tiny red head selecting Peter Pan as her brand of nutty butter. "What are you talking about?" She pretends to be distracted as she continues her trek through the perilous aisles of domesticity. She's trying to re-direct the conversation. It's a well known Scully tactic she's mastered over the years. Apparently, her mother is immune to this particular defense mechanism. "Dana, that man loves you and you know it." Maggie, it seems, taught Scully the infamous eyebrow. "Of course he loves me. I love him as well." I think my heart just stopped at her nonchalant declaration. "But, that doesn't mean he's in love me." She turns her cart toward dairy. I hang back absorbing this bit of information. How dare she presume to know such a thing?!?!? I've told her I love her. Hell, I even kissed her twin on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic. Not in love with her?? Where has she been for the last six years? I realize I've given them enough of a lead that I can surreptitiously continue my surveillance. She's picking up yogurt and as she glances backward, I have to duck behind a display of beef jerky. "He's in love with you." Maggie's voice is more certain than me. "Mom. Leave it alone." Scully makes her way toward the produce section. "Dana. He loves you and you love him. You're both so in love with each other that it's breathtaking. But, if you decide to continue to evade the inevitable, then you both deserve each other." Her mother's tone is stern like the Navy Captain's wife she is. "Even if I were in love with him, that ship has sailed." She seems so certain. "You're making a big decision without consulting an indispensable party. I'm sure Fox has a different opinion." Maggie's right, I do. She's methodically inspecting a package of cherry tomatoes, rotating it in every direction to check for a stray interloper. "Mulder," she says pointedly, "mom. And if he wanted to be a party to this conversation, he would have initiated it a long time ago." That's it, I've had enough of her selfishly denying me a say in this relationship. "Maybe he was afraid you wouldn't want him." Both Scully women gasp simultaneously and it dawns on me that we are in a grocery store surrounded by several patrons. Probably not the most appropriate place to be having this conversation, but dammit, I'm tired of indecision. I find Maggie's eyes and note the impish quality reflecting back at me. I realize she was aware of my presence the entire time. Matchmaker, matchmaker indeed. "Mulder! What are you doing here?" Scully's voice is accusatory. As if I don't have the right to go shopping in my own neighborhood. "I decided I needed more Sunny-D." I advance upon her until we are inches apart. My eyes are locked and her return gaze is searing. "You're in the wrong section for imitation orange juice." Her words are piercing. She's been had, and she knows it. A Scully backed into a corner is always particularly vicious. She tries ignoring me as she places her selection into her cart. I hope she realizes it won't make me go away. "I got distracted on Aisle 7." I can tell when she realizes how long I've been following their line of discussion. Her eyes widen, and she quickly takes a step backward. In her haste to retreat from me, she fails to recognize how close she is to the beefsteaks. I reach out and grab her upper arm before she can tumble fully into the display. "You love me." It's a statement. I have no idea where I got the balls to be this bold. "Mulder. Stop it." She tenses and tries to wrench her arm free of my grasp. But, I hold her tightly and pull her against me clamping her other arm in the process. "You. Love. Me." "You're making a scene." Her eyes dart about taking in the five or so observers that have decided our interaction deserves additional scrutiny. "No. Not a scene. A decision." "What the hell are you..." I capture her pout before she can finish her thought. Her arms come up to push heavily against my chest, but I am not so easily dissuaded. If Doritos came in her flavor, I'd never panic about a choice. My lips devour her on Aisle 13. I take several long hard nips before I finally allow my tongue to rest against her bottom lip. I can feel her knee starting to rise between us, but I swiftly block her attempt as I grab her hips and press her to me. That does it. Her lips part on a moan, and my tongue probes the depths of her mouth. I will never get enough of her. She laces her fingers in my hair and pulls hard against my bottom lip. I am lost. My mouth latches onto her and my tongue duels for possession. She is my sustenance. Who needs to grocery shop? I give a tiny thrust against her pelvis and she growls. Maggie coughs behind me and reminds me where this is taking place. Not appropriate for the crying two year old to my right. Our lips part and I rest my forehead against hers. "Scully." It's the only thing I can say right now. "Mulder." Her breathy retort sends even more blood surging down south. "I want to start that conversation." "I think you already did." She gives me a dazzling smile and her fingers tickle the back of my neck. "What do you want?" "You." She manages before I give into the urge to thrust once more. If we get arrested for this, it's her fault. "Hmm.." Is all she replies before taking my lips between hers again. She worries my upper lip and traces the bottom with her tongue. She pulls away gently and glances behind me. "Where's mom?" She asks with confusion. "She did her part." I have to remember to thank Maggie Scully the next time I see her. "Mulder, what groceries do you have at home?" She asks suggestively. "Whatever is in your cart." I grab her hand and pull her to the nearest check out. I hate yogurt, am not too fond of cherry tomatoes, and would rather eat cardboard than seven grain bread, but I do like peanut butter. Grocery shopping isn't so bad.