a/n: credit to the original creators of the X Files, and fanfiction writer storybycorey for their fic "Today". I read "Today" and enjoyed it so much that I've basically just written a 2nd — more crappy — version for my own enjoyment. You should definitely check out the original. I also took heavy inspiration from thisbluepeony's fic "Time is a Fine Invention".

Content warning: Scully & Mulder gettin' hot 'n' heavy on the phone


FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

When Dana entered the room she felt unsure, perhaps even nervous. She smoothed her hands over her white shirt where it met her grey slacks and straightened the lapels on her coat.

Mulder stood next to the projector, painstakingly slipping slides into place, assembling some case to convince her it was worth her time. Like she had a choice but to see where that brain of his would take her next.

He always found a way to insight her curiosity, to make it all seem so reasonable until it was too late, and she was forced to reel him back from some precipice, only to join him there herself. This time it was her intent to return the favour.

"Mulder, I… I need something from you," she began. She'd woken up early that morning and made the decision, and she wouldn't back out now on cowardice alone, not without at least discussing it with him.

"Good morning to you too, Scully." Another slide tapped into position. He was in a good mood.

"It's uhm," she drew back her lip, "it's personal."

"Why do I get the sense that this request is going to be unprofessional and yet somehow unfun in equal measure?" He asked, he still didn't look up, but she knew she had his attention. He was only pretending to wipe off one of his slides with the untucked corner of his white button-down. She dragged her eyes away from the sliver of skin this exposed at her partners hip. She wondered how much of his skin she would have to suffer to be fully inoculated against its effect.

"Perhaps because you've taken the rare opportunity to reflect and consider that I don't solely exist for your entertainment?" She replied, hoping that he would have mercy and not play with her too much over this.

Mulder smiled and turned to her. "Is it about yesterday?" He asked, cutting to the chase.

She swallowed. "Yes, I — yes. Mulder," she cleared her throat. "The only logical conclusion I've been able to reach following the inquiries we've made in the last weeks, is that somehow, some person or persons are purposely sabotaging my attempts to fertilise the ova that you secured. My ova. They've been able to cover themselves so far on the basis that either the sperm that I've been able to access or the specific lab conditions are to blame, but I believe this is how they've been successful in forcing my failure."

"Have you asked yourself how it benefits your saboteur to ensure that the question of your fertility remains a question?" Mulder asked, joining her in her frustration with a frown.

"I have, but in the meantime, I want to keep trying. I need to do more to control the variables. The male sex cells I've been able to access have somehow been rendered ineffectual. And my concern as to whether the frozen ova I have is viable to accomplish future IVF treatment is, well, growing," she had practiced this, he could probably tell.

"You've been holding out on me." Scratch that, he could definitely tell. "You've given this a lot of thought," he said, folding his arms. She watched the movement with poorly concealed interest.

He'd caught up to her conclusion. "Mulder, I come to you with limited time, options, and in no shortage of desperation. I want these answers, need to know if my ova is viable, and I won't be able to get those answer without a trusted lab attendant, one of which I have managed to source, but I also need… I need a viable sample of male sex cells." There it was, her reasonable bait to an outrageous precipice.

Maybe Mulder even blushed, he broke eye contact and laughed softly. "Jeez, Scully, you really know how to make a guy feel special," he fussed playfully, reaching a hand up to rub his face.

"Mulder," she wasn't prepared to pressure him any further, but nor was she willing to subject herself to his ridicule.

"Alright, alright," he walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll bite. You're serious?"

She let out a sigh of relief. "I'm not asking for you to have a baby with me, I'm just asking you for the materials to confirm that it's even possible for me to conceive."

"Enough, enough, I get it. No need to kick a man while he's down. Make with the cup. That petri dish isn't gonna know what hit it."

"Ha ha." She made to roll her eyes but thought better of it. She couldn't look at him just then, so she dropped her gaze to the ground, exhaled, and said: "Thank you."


OUR LADY OF SORROWS PRIVATE HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Ah, god damnit," Fox grumbled in frustration. "Come on," he all but pleaded, but to no avail. He just wasn't getting anywhere. He'd promised to do this, to do it for her, but he just. His body wouldn't co-operate. He'd already given up on the 'arousal aids' the centre had supplied him with, the television screening porn was blank in the corner. He couldn't relax. Not for the first time, he glanced at his coat slung over the back of the chair by the door.

He lay, semi reclined on a hospital bed, he hadn't bothered to get undressed. Opting simply to kick off his shoes and pull his shirt up and out of the way. Shucking his trousers down his thighs.

He could do this. Stupid lab attendant on the way in had to go on about levels of arousal correlating to quality of the sample and suddenly none of it seemed so simple. The man was some pal of Scully's from med school and she inferred that he could be trusted, which shouldn't have bothered Fox.

He had a fail safe for situations like these, he'd just allow himself to think of her. Of her, so solid and so sure, the only real thing in an increasingly false life. Why was it so difficult to summon up images of Scully in this hospital room? She was a doctor for pete's sake. God, and she was always so handsy when he was injured or sick, it was enough to make him consider hitting himself over the head with a bowling ball before work on a monday.

He tried to imagine how she would reach out, with that sure, focused touch. But then all he could hear was her voice in his head, Mulder, remember that the duration of your arousal is crucial to the likelihood of success. Today is the best shot, measures have been taken. I've secured the venue for this express purpose. And then all he could think of was this friend of hers, probably wondering what was taking so long. Why Scully would allow some limp-dicked pencil-pusher to even approach her DNA. Fox wondered if Scully had told the guy who he was, or why they were doing this. Fox even started to wonder if he was the only man she'd asked to provide a specimen.

What hope did he have of ever seducing his beautiful, enchanting partner in person, if he couldn't even get it up to make sweet love to her on a glass slide?

He took his hand off his stubborn, soft cock and sighed, tugging his trousers back up to his hips he went to retrieve his cell phone. Fuck it.


FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Dana picked up her phone and answered on the second ring, leaning back from her computer. "Scully," she said.

She was alone in the basement, trying and failing to concentrate. She was diverted by the need to question her sanity for most of the morning, but she comforted herself with the fact that Mulder had said he was comfortable with this before he left. And he didn't know about her feelings for him, and she didn't see why they should be a factor. What was happening today was purely pragmatic. She had asked him to do this as an act of friendship.

"Scully, it's me." Those three words.

Her eyebrows shot up, she hadn't expected him to call her on this particular day. She didn't think he'd talk to her till he got back to the office and it was over with. She felt her face heat up a little. "What is it, Mulder?" Silence. "Mulder? Is everything alright?" She heard some rustling on the other end of the phone and her eyes narrowed.

"Everything's fine, I'm just calling to ask, I don't know. Uhm, how do I put this?" He cleared his throat. "Hey, what are you wearing?"

Dana felt her jaw go slack, was he serious? She didn't want to embarrass herself by asking. "Are you at the clinic?" She asked instead, focussing on keeping her voice neutral.

"Maybe. Are you at work?" His voice was delicious.

"I'm in the basement, where you left me. Is there a problem?"

"Of sorts," he said, and there was something vulnerable in the way he said it.

She went out on a limb. "Have you been able to achieve orgasm?" She asked.

He groaned, and the sound made the hair on her neck prickle. "I'm trying to find a way to explain what's happening here in a manner that doesn't make me feel like less of a man, Scully, but I get the sense you're not going to let me away with my dignity."

Dana was still rather overwhelmed with gratitude for him agreeing to this for her and honestly, more than a little curious as to why it was she who was getting this call. She chose to test the waters.

"You want to know what I'm wearing?" She stressed.

A pause. "Even just the colour," there was a forced levity to his tone.

Dana licked her bottom lip, promptly making her choice. A choice very much based in dangerous sentiment. "This phone call never happened, Mulder," she eventually spoke, and there was something in her tone she didn't recognise.

He forced a laugh, "I'm just messing around," he defended. "Sorry."

His nerves spoke volumes, made her bold.

"No, I mean, I'm wearing a plum shirt, and a black skirt as you well know," she said, and she still sounded strange to herself. "I'm going to get you through this um, this session, Mulder. If that's what you've called me to do. But it's all... off the record, alright?" She could feel her temperature rising, feel pressure building in her vulva already.

"No, I mean, yes, maybe it is what I called you for," Mulder admitted. "off the record," he added hastily.

Dana almost backed down, almost chickened out right there. But he was doing this for her and maybe this wasn't her being led by her best judgement but Christ if he didn't sound enchanting over the phone. "Look, did you call me as a friend, or as a woman who you find attractive?" She eventually asked, sealing her fate. Stealing herself for her role in this as a sort of director of arousal.

"I… I don't know. I'm so worked up I probably shouldn't have called you at all."

"Today, for you, for this. I'm happy to be both." She could make this good for him.

"Happy to be… Scully, do I understand you correctly? For me you're… what?"

"My bra and my underwear are black, Mulder. They're satin. Does that answer the question?"

He gulped. "Shit," he whispered, his disbelief perfectly evident. His shuddering sigh frankly encouraging.

"Is this what you want? Is this why you called me?" She was going to do this, and she was going to do it right. Her chest fluttered.

More rustling down the line. "Shit, Scully. Yes… I mean yeah. I guess on some level it was." He laughed again, strained.

"You don't sound so sure. I don't know how you expect me to help you here, Mulder, but I can try. Are you touching yourself?" She asked, feigning casual. Amazed her voice didn't shake at all. Just once.

"No," he replied. "Is this actually happening?"

"Officially? Of course not. Now, why aren't you touching yourself?" She could let herself away with this this once.

"You don't have to—"

"I'm just trying to be practical here."

"Oh, that's right baby, talk dirty to me."

She sucked on her teeth, she didn't much appreciate being mocked. "How do you like it? Do you want me to tell you how I'd like to suck your cock?"

A sharp intake of breath. "Sorry, I'm looking for Dana Scully? We're partners with the FBI?"

She smiled. He was being defensive, she knew, because he was getting worked up. She'd deflected his advances in much the same way, simply to hide how he affected her. "Mulder, it's me. I need to ask you something, it's about your dick."

"What about it?" He asked, clearly amused and sheepish and a little less clearly something else.

She wouldn't let him hide from her in the same way she'd hidden from him and his flirting. "Is it hard for me?"

"Jesus, do you expect me to answer that?"

"I expect you to at least reach down and find out for me."

There was a groan down the line and Dana felt something swoop low in her abdomen. He'd done as she'd asked, she crossed her legs, tight. This was working.

"I'm not kidding around, Scully."

"Is it hard?" She knew it was.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Are you hard, Mulder?"

"Fuck, Scully. Yes, hard as a rock." She bit her lip, his voice having an uncanny affect on her body.

"Am I turning you on?" She asked, her voice completely betraying her.

"The mere prospect of you is turning me on!" The way he spoke gave her hope that he was too far gone to notice.

She tried to think of how to proceed. Reaching for anything hot to say. "How so? Is it that you like the idea of me putting my mouth on you? Or do you like it with my hand, my lips on your neck?"

"Shit, seriously, who is this?" He was increasingly breathless, his voice betraying a rhythm. It was egging her on. She was greedy for the choked little noises now escaping down the phone.

"I can hear what you're doing," she whispered, and she found her hand was thumbing the hem of her skirt.

"Do you like it, Scully, do you like to hear it?" It was clear that his judgement was becoming impaired by arousal and he was beginning to forget his defense of humour.

She hesitated, she did like it. "If you put your hand on me, you'd feel how much I like it," she confessed.

"Ooh God," he groaned again, "Uugh, are you wet for me, Scully?" His voice was gravelly and low. She could hear the gentle pat-pat-pat of his hand meeting with the skin at the base of his cock as he tugged on his hard length. Was it alright for her to answer truthfully? This was not about her after all, but the fact was, her body was positively aching. Aching at the thought of his hands, of his mouth...

"Do you want me to check for you?" She asked, her husky voice betraying her genuine arousal.

His only reply was a groan of ascent. God bless the sounds he made. She was sweating. She surprised herself then, by getting up to lock the basement door, as though she wasn't bluffing. She pressed her back to the door and as a further surprise to her, her hand found its way under her skirt. She realised she absolutely wasn't bluffing. Not at all.


OUR LADY OF SORROWS PRIVATE HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Was that the lock?" Fox asked, more urgent than he'd intended. The heat in his belly surged. "Are you actually…"

The moan that interrupted him was all the confirmation he needed. He might have even convinced himself he imagined the small perfect noise, but there was no denying the feeling it sent straight to the tip of his dick, fully erect in his hand. "Mulder," she whined, and he felt ready to explode just at that. "Tell me what the hell you're thinking." Was she just fucking with him? Did he care?

Suffice to say, this was definitely working. He gasped a little as he thumbed the warm wetness already gathered at the tip of his cock. "I'm thinking: how the hell am I pulling this off?," he told her. And he was, he was trying to figure out how he'd managed this, to actually get a horny Dana Scully on the line. There was no 1-800 number for this, lord knows he'd tried.

She replied with the most delightful little chuckle. "I imagine you're using your right hand," she said, her voice the perfect amount of hoarse.

"What else are you imagining?" He asked, a wonderful feeling pooling low in his belly. All traces of self-consciousness slipping away in the wake of how good at this Scully was, and how quick she was to have honest to God fucking phone sex with him. This woman who had been in his life so long, just out of reach.

"I'm imagining your hand on me," she hummed. Jesus fucking Christ, have mercy. Was it possible that she'd thought of this before, thought of it with him? Regardless, the fact that she was turned on in this moment, turned on and thinking of him. He wasn't going to be able to make this last.

"Where, Scully?" He asked, like a complete glutton for punishment. He could see her in his mind's eye, sitting right across from him as always, the same look in her eye that she got when she was really listening to him. Her skirt rucked up at her hip and her hand...

"Instead of my hand, your fingers slipping inside." Inside.

"Keep talking," Fox demanded, the phone pressed to his cheek, every part of him desperate for every little sound he could pull from her before this was over. "Tell me how you like it."

"I think of you… I think of you when I'm in the bath," she let out a little sigh. "I imagine you watching me, you roll up your sleeve. Is your watch waterproof?" She asked.

"What?" He asked, nearly laughing but mostly appreciating the interruption as it pulled him away from the precipice. His cock was leaking steadily now, painfully hard. He'd be lying if he claimed never to have imagined her in the damn bath.

"I always imagine you taking it off, before you kneel next to the tub and dip your hand into the water. You're so confident, you tell me that I'm going to come for you. You make me believe it."

"You're going to come for me, Scully," he tells her.

"Yes, yes, and you...unh." He could hear her panting, moaning.

"What do I do?" He caught the phone on his shoulder and reached for the stupid plastic cup that had started this whole mess. One more dirty little comment from her would be more than enough to send him over the edge.

"You rub my nipple, and my stomach, and then lower."

"Yes." He was dreaming, he had to be dreaming.

"And your hand is on my vulva, between the folds, hot and wet for you. Pressing down on my clit, you kiss me."

"Oh God," he heaved, feeling a sudden lurch and a wave of arousal hit him like wine, taking him dangerously close to coming. "Scully," he pleaded. She didn't reply right away, not with words, but with desperate little noises that made the knot in his belly positively throb. Fox's fist was jerking frantically and he really, really wanted to come. The knot was becoming something lush and hot and wonderful. "I'm so close." It had only been a few minutes, but it was true, he'd never dared to imagine it would be like this. The sounds she made, the things she said.

"Mulder, I'm… so am I," and judging by the tightness in her voice, she was dead serious. "Oh fuck," and her voice was tighter again, and he'd never heard her curse like that. What the fuck, what the fuck.

Fox's breath hitched and he chokes the words out — "Fuck… oh fuck, Scully," — and in the moment that followed he was coming, hard, in thick, hot spurts with a loud moan. He coated the inside of the stupid jar, still working his cock. Then melted back onto the bed, wondering if he might die.

Completely spent, he was still dimly aware of her there on the line. He placed the cup on the table next to the bed and picked up the phone with his left hand.

"Scully?" He asked, and his cock twitched in reply to her muffled keening pouring right into his ear. And then she was quiet just as quickly, panting lightly.

"Mulder, did you?" Her voice was softer then he'd heard it, beautiful.

He was struck dumb for a moment, still processing what he thought he may have just heard. Had she said his name?

"Yeah," And he had to know. "Did you?" He laid back and closed his eyes. Trying to catch his breath. Did you just come and moan my name?!

"I, uhm… Yes, actually," she admitted, and he wished more than anything that he could rewind time and share that with her again. "Is that ok?" Scully asked, and he furrowed his brow. "I just — in the moment," she continued.

"Listen, if you hadn't gotten off on the last few minutes, I'd probably just about die from shame," Fox admitted, incredibly proud to have actually aroused Scully to the point of orgasm. The mere thought filling him with such hope he thought he might burst.

"Really?"

"If I can turn you on once, Scully, I can die a happy man," he confessed.

"Thanks." They were quiet for a moment, in contemplation of what he wasn't sure. He should ask her to dinner, tell her to meet him somewhere, he should say something more, something to bridge the last of the gap between them. "You'd better get a lid on that sample, Mulder."

Some invisible door slammed in his face. "Oh, right. Sure."

"Goodbye," she said, just like that, and he tried to think of something he could say to hold her in this moment with him just a little longer.

"Bye, Scully."

The line went dead.

Coward, he cursed himself.


a/n: If anyone wants more; simply ask and you shall receive.