donut tower

Where You Belong

A/N: An anon request for a fic where the team and reader are celebrating Spencer getting out of jail. @coveofmemories

                                                               —-

It had been about two weeks since Spencer had been released from prison - and he’d finally been reinstated, so today was his first day back at work. “Are we all ready to go?” you asked. Spencer had been your best friend since childhood. When he’d gone to prison, it was like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. You’d loved him all your life, and you’d made a promise to yourself that if he got out, you’d tell him how you felt. 

As you walked into the round table room, you took in the balloons and streamers and various other decorations that Garcia had helped to pick out. Everyone had stayed late last night to decorate the office for his return to work. You’d even gone out and gotten a cake; actually it was more of a donut tower, chocolate frosted with rainbow sprinkles. 

In the middle of the table, just below the donut tower, was a sign that said ‘Welcome Home.’ It was bedazzled in every type of sparkly thing imaginable, courtesy of Garcia of course. Basically, it looked like a rainbow through up on it, which meant it was perfect. After being surrounded by four beige walls for so long, you thought it best to invade his world in color. 

“He’s here,” you said, peeking out of the blinds. There was a tentative smile on his face. His gait was a little iffy, as if he was practically new to the Bureau, but as he stepped further and further into the place he’d called home for the past 12 years, his shoulders relaxed some and he walked toward the conference room. 

The second he opened the door, everyone screamed surprise, and for what felt like the first time in years, he smiled wide. “Thank you, guys,” he said softly. He was about to walk over to everyone to start in a round of hugs, but of course, Garcia stepped forward first. “I’ve missed you so much, Boy Wonder,” she whispered. “But we got you back, and no matter what, we’re going to help you through this. You’re where you belong.”

“I know,” he replied, his eyes welling with tears as he released her and walked around the room. JJ sobbed. Emily stayed the badass she always was, but you could see in her eyes, she’d cry later. Rossi grabbed Spencer’s face in his hands and gave him those Italian fatherly kisses he always gave his kids. Walker and Tara enveloped him a warm embrace and Luke recounted the many times he threatened Shaw’s ass for what he did to Spencer.

Finally, he got to you. “Hey, bestie,” you said through a veil of tears. Jumping up into his arms, you heard a grunt from him as you fucked up his hair. “Sorry, I’ve just really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Y/N,” he said. “So much.” You felt him sniffle against your ear. Later, when you were alone, you’d tell him. Until then, Spencer turned around and grabbed a donut, shoving it into his mouth with a smile. Apparently, he hadn’t had a donut since he left prison. 

“Oh my god,” he said. His eyes were practically rolling back into his head. 

You snorted and turned to Garcia, gesturing for a donut of your own. “Spence, do you need a moment alone with the donut.”

“I might,” he laughed.

Emily had made sure that the first few hours of their work day were dedicated to easing Spencer back into work. Today would be full of paper work - nothing more. No cases. No bad guys. Just boring paperwork, donuts and a rainbow of streamers and balloons. 

For hours, the group of you did nothing but talk. About the most benign to the heaviest of topics. For the most part though, that heavy topic didn’t include Spencer’s stay in prison. He would talk when he was ready. “How about we all go out for dinner and drinks tonight?” Tara suggested. Luke and Garcia were quick to agree, although the fact that they both agreed at the same time was a source of amusement for them both. 

Spencer looked hesitant at first, but with a little coaxing and a smack to his leg under the table, he relented. “Fine, I’ll go.”

After a ton of celebration and a donut tower later, everyone got to doing paperwork. You decided to show Spencer the ropes when it came to the new paperwork. “This has all changed in three months?” he asked, both confused and overwhelmed. Over the course of the next few hours, you showed him what you could, but so much had changed - more in his own life than anything else. 

“Let’s go get some fresh air,” you said. Quickly, you ran down the stairs and sat down on a bench outside. “Take your time.” You leaned into his arm. “It’s gonna take time. We’re all here for you.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said. “It’s just a lot. Everyone’s got their own lives and I don’t want to interfere, and…”

“Spence,” you said, grabbing his face in your hands, “You’re our friend. We love you. There’s no such thing as interfering. I…” Saying what you wanted to say after all these years was so much easier said than done. Your lifelong friend looked at you quizzically and the words nearly caught in your throat. 

“I don’t want to overwhelm you at all. We’ve been best friends for years. When you went away, and I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to see you again…I..it made me realize some things.”

He pulled you further into him and replied; you could tell by the waver of his voice that he knew what you wanted to say and just wanted you to actually say it. “It made me realize that I never want to live without you. Not just as my best friend. I…I love you, Spence.” You leaned into him and pressed your lips to his. 

When you pulled away, there were tears in his eyes, but a smile on his face. “Maybe we could go on a date? Not tonight, because we’re going out with everyone, but tomorrow? You and me?” he asked. “I love you too. I always have.” He placed his hand on your knee. “For the first time in a while, I feel like my life might actually be on the upswing.”

“I think so too,” you smiled. “Just know that it may not always feel that way. And when it doesn’t we’re all here for the fall.”

Banter 347


Chris: Morning team, why are we all lined up here, don’t you all have something to do?
*lights go out*
Chris: What’s going on?
*Jill enters with candle lit cake made of a tower of donuts while team sings ‘Happy birthday’. Piers sings the loudest.*
Chris: *scratches head* Oh. Oh!
Piers: Make a wish Captain!
Chris: Easy. I wish for world peace. *blows candles*
Piers: And he huffs and he puffs and it went woosh!
*someone turns lights back on*
Jill: Well don’t just stare at it.
Chris: A donut tower. Mmm. *reaches to grab one*
Jill: Nah uhh. Birthday kisses first, before that icing goes all over the stubble
Team: *wolf whistles*
Jill: *pushes Piers forward*
Chris: Oh what the hell *plants Piers a wet one*
Team: *whistles louder*
Piers: *closes eyes and kisses back*
Jill: *snaps picture*
Chris: There, happy?
Jill: *presses send to Claire* Looking good. The she-bear will be happy.
Chris: *grunts*
Chris: Alright, thanks guys, we all get donuts today.
Chris: *phone rings* Hello?
Claire: Surprise!
Chris: Hey Clairebear. How’s things?
Claire: Not as steamy as over there, but still good. Happy birthday bro!
Chris: *laughs* Thanks. It was a good surprise.
Claire: Honestly? You still don’t remember your birthday?
Chris: It was kinda more awkward when I forget yours.
Claire: I was twelve. I got over it. How’s Piers?
Chris: *glances over* Kinda flushed and cute and Piers looking.
Claire: You really have a way with words.
Team: *gives birthday punches to Chris*
Chris: Uhhh.
Claire: You ok?
Chris: Yeah, boys just showing some rough love.
Claire: Oh and how’s Ruff?
Chris: He’s good too. Piers keeps him happy.
Claire: So long as he keeps you happy too, I’m happy.
Chris: I’m happy. *squeezes Piers’ shoulder*
Claire: Good, won’t stop you from your cake now, chat later bro! Bye!
Chris: Love ya. *hangs up*
Piers: Here you go Captain. Donut coming right up.
Chris: Well you might as well feed it to me.
Piers: *looks around* Fine. Open up.
Chris: Ahhh
Piers: There.
Chris: Mmm.
Jill: *munches on three donuts*
Chris: *raises eyebrows*
Jill: They had all the flavours I wanted OK… shush.
Chris: I’m proud of ya Jillybean.
Jill and Piers: *rolls eyes*
Chris: Hah, that makes two of ya.
Jill: He’s all kinda changed isn’t he?
Piers: Yep, thinks way less, does way more.
Chris: Fine wine you know, matures with age.
Piers: We’ll crack a bottle tonight.
Chris: Can’t wait Ace. *kisses Piers again*
Piers: Hey! *rubs icing off cheek*
Jill: A toast to world peace?
Chris: *winks* World peace. Then I can retire in peace. *pats Piers on small of his back*
Piers: *smiles*

Happy birthday to Chris @redfieldandnivans, hope you’re having a good one with Piers!!! Here’s some birthday cheer from down under. Indulge responsibly, :)).

Prodigal

Disclaimer: This is my first EVER fanfic. Written for @leiascully XF Writing Challenge - Clean/Dirty. Also my first Tumblr post. Hope I did this right.

——-

Sometime after IWTB

She wakes with an aching face. Sometimes, when the weather is right, her cheekbone feels the blow it took from Donnie Pfaster all those years ago. Those are the days she’s glad she only has to throw on scrubs and go bare faced to work. Today is different, though. It’s Sunday.

She sits up and plants a kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Mulder’s eye socket and whispers “Church.” He rolls over into a cave of blankets. Her feet are cold on the bare floor. Fall is finally in the air this morning, and the t-shirt and panties she wears to bed aren’t enough once she’s left the warmth of his body. In the bathroom, she flips on the tap and sheds her black panties and the orange shirt that clashes with her hair. It says “PUMPKIN” across the chest. It must be Mulder’s, something he picked up at the farmers’ market, she supposes. While the unremarkable house struggles to warm the water in the noisy old pipes, she steals a moment to study the changes in her aging body in the reflection of the mirror. Her hair has faded from the titian hue of her youth to a lovely strawberry blonde. Her freckles are more pronounced. She admires the way her features have become more striking, her baby face finally gone and revealing dramatic cheekbones. Cheekbones that ache. She opens the medicine cabinet and downs an ibuprofen, then climbs over the side of the tub into the now warm water.

The bathroom door opens and the steam escapes, a cold draft replacing it. “Mulder!” she protests, “It’s cold. I figured you’d sleep in.”

“And miss Red’s Donuts after Mass? You have to ask yourself, ‘What would Jesus do?’ Jesus would eat donuts.”

“Mulder,” she sighs, with a little exasperation in her voice. She’s secretly pleased, though. More often than not, he accompanies her to Church on Sunday morning, although she never asks. He steps into the shower as she steps out, planting a kiss firmly on her lips. She can’t resist slapping his bare ass, even though she can tell he’s moving slowly this morning, too. He admits to most of it- the dull throb of old injuries. He’ll never admit to the ache she can tell sits in his shoulder, the site of a gunshot scar. It’s the scar she gave him, and he never mentions it out of kindness to her. He knows it causes her much more pain than it does him.

As she dresses in a sharply pleated knee length Calvin Klein skirt and a mustard cardigan, she reflects. Their relationship has aged in much the same way they have. Sharper in some places, softer in others. The raw physical longing has gone, replaced with a sweet softness in their lovemaking. Oh, they’re still attracted to each other, still get hot and heavy sometimes, but there is so much more comfort in the familiarity of a body that you’ve been sleeping next to for so long you can’t remember anyone else taking up that spot.

He sits next to her at Mass, handsome in his shirt and tie, a little echo of the young FBI agent she fell in love with two decades ago. They’ve been coming to this tiny Catholic Church for years. When they first moved here, they were the young couple. Now, they’ve grown old enough to blend in with the little old people, especially to the eyes of the young couples with small children who’ve started making their way to the country, romanced by the opportunity to give their children an idyllic childhood. When communion comes, she sits with him as everyone else files forward. This breaks her heart a little. She knows the Catholic Church says sex and cohabitation outside of marriage is wrong, that she’s in a state of mortal sin. What she’s doing with Mulder isn’t dirty, but her soul is.

“Mulder, leave some donuts for the kids. We can go by Red’s on the way home if you need a sixth donut that badly…Oh, hi, Father Bob.” She’s slightly caught off guard. They’re on friendly terms with everyone in the parish, including the priest, but for him to initiate conversation is uncharacteristic.

“Hi, Dana, Fox. Listen, the Church has made annulments easier. I was thinking maybe we could get that process started for you guys, get your marriage blessed by the Church. You’re here every week, I imagine you want to be in full communion.”

“Actually, Father, neither of us has been married before, and we’re not married now.”

“Even better,” he answers. “Call and set up an appointment to see me. I’m off on Mondays.”

Scully is silent on the drive home. She looks out the window, lips pursed in thought. Aside from the legal ramifications of getting married, there was the religious aspect. Mulder had always accompanied her to Mass, but the belief was in her court. Why he couldn’t take the leap from aliens, government conspiracies, and monsters to transubstantiation was something she didn’t understand, but she left him to it. Now, to ask him to get married just so she could be back in line with something he didn’t believe…

“So when are we going to see Father Bob?” He startles her out of her thoughts and his words put a pit in her stomach.

“Mulder, he’s asking if we want to get married.” Their car pulls into the driveway at home.

“I know,” he half grins.

He slams the door and disappears inside before she can mask the shock on her face. She jumps out of the car and follows him, her spike heels aerating the grass as she tries to catch up. He doesn’t stop for her and when she gets inside, she can hear him in the bedroom, banging around. What could he possibly be thinking? Does he really want to meet with the priest, or is he freaked out? She strides up the stairs, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Mulder is standing in front of his chest of drawers, digging through socks.

“Mulder…what do you mean, we should see Father Bob? What are you thinking about?”

He turns, kneels in front of her, and slides a ring on her finger. It’s his mother’s wedding ring. “Dana Scully, will you marry me?”

———

She stands in the back of Church, dressed in a simple white floor length sheath. She’d made the meeting with Father Bob first thing the Tuesday after Mulder proposed. The process didn’t take long. He agreed that after twenty years, first as work partners, then as life partners, they’d outlasted the average marriage. He knew that Scully longed to be in communion with the Church again, and that, while Mulder had no desire to convert, he understood the esteem of the Sacrament of Marriage within the Catholic Church.

Her mother is there, and walks her down the aisle. She’s also the Matron of Honor, and the mother of the bride, beautiful in beige. Walter Skinner stands beside Mulder at the altar. They didn’t want a big wedding or a big fuss after so many years, but they did invite the members of their little parish to witness their vows. They both raised an eyebrow when they repeated the words, “Until death do us part.” Death had taken Mulder once, and neither of them were sure Scully could die. Those words had depth to them that they couldn’t express to anyone else. For Scully, the most perfect moment came after the vows, during the Mass. When it was time for communion, as the happy couple knelt at the altar, Father Bob gave Mulder a blessing and Scully received the host on her tongue for the first time in so many years. She felt whole. She had God and Fox Mulder and all was right with her soul.

———

After the ceremony, the parishioners surprised them with a tower of donuts in the shape of a wedding cake, tiny ceramic figurines stuck in the chocolate glaze on the top donut. They fed each other donuts, laughed, kissed Scully’s mom and Skinner goodbye, and headed home.

When they got to the front door, Mulder insisted on carrying her over the threshold and up the stairs to their room. He stands her next to the bed and kisses her full on the lips. He tastes like chocolate icing and champagne.

“Well, Scully, do you feel any different?”

“I do. Thank you, Mulder. Thank you for being my husband. Thank you for understanding. I feel clean. I feel new. We’re not young, but I’m your bride. Now, your job is to make love to your bride.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispers as he unzips her dress and lets it drop to the floor. He cups a breast in one hand as he lays her on the bed with the other. “Mrs. Spooky…” He kisses her so softly she thinks she’ll break in half. “Mrs. Mulder…” He kisses her lips again, tenderly. “Scully…” His lips touch hers, and she feels all the feelings of all the years they’ve spent together, there, mingling with their lips and bodies, and she knows it is the most pure, most beautiful love, even after all these years.