the times square show

I Have A Crush On You…

Title: I Have A Crush On You…

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you can please do a Josh imagine where he and Tyler are doing sound check for msg and y/n is just watching him in the empty pit and it’s really fluffy? And maybe he can be looking at you during the show and after you and him just cuddle and stuff while on the tour bus watching a movie with everyone. Thank you ❤️ p.s. Sorry is that was confusing

Characters: Josh Dun x Reader, Tyler Joseph, Jenna Joseph

Warnings: None

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219 Kiss Fic Version #3

“In here,” Kurt called to her as he ducked into a small shop. Jane followed him quickly and found him already talking to the old man behind the counter.

“So I just need to use your phone for a second,” she heard him say and watched the old man hand Kurt his landline.

“Will it work?” Jane asked and Kurt nodded.

“It has to,” he said as he continued to press the buttons on the old phone, “if they’re gonna find us then Patterson has to pick up on this distress call and locate us.”

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Out of My League // {Brett Talbot Imagine}

Out of My League // {Brett Talbot x Reader}

Summary: The reader has a crush on Brett who is extremely popular and way out of her league, she consults her best friend which is considered very popular even though the reader is very shy and tends to avoid different social gatherings.. After their talk things start up with Brett.

A/N: Lately I have been loving Brett and I will probably post a couple of sweet and romantic imagines including him.

Warnings: Recollection of Body Insecurities.

———————————————————

She was always the cute one,

The one that always admired everything from the side wondering how it feels like,

She was the one that always imagined what it is being loved, being social but panicked when it happens in reality,

She never had luck with boys, She wanted someone to love her but was to shy to even say a word to anyone.

Although she was extremely beautiful;

inside and out,

She was never accepting of herself.

She always felt like every girl in the room was prettier than her,

Like she wasn’t enough.

She was always shy,

Watching from the side but never in the middle,

Listning to the conversations but never speaking,

Keeping everything to herself as if it didn’t matter to anyone how she felt.

But opposing to you was your best friend,

She was very popular, probably the most popular girl in your grade,

She was gorgeous, outgoing,

You two had a bond like no other, she knew everything about you, and you knew her.

But you had a problem, you had a crush.

Not too long ago you had fallen in love with a boy, but nothing happened. It broke your heart and you didn’t know how you could possibly fall in love again.

But now you had a new crush, Brett Talbot.

You hated yourself for crushing on him,

Aside from him being extremely close to Y/B/F/N he was also extremely popular, the captain of the lacrosse team, talking to everybody and being friends with everyone, especially girls.

You kept this to your self, not telling a soul beside one of your friends who found out, not even Y/B/F/N knew.

You tried your best getting over him,

Trying to convince yourself he has something with someone else,

That he doesn’t like you,

But nothing worked.

——————

It was a normal day at school,

You wore a pair of skin tight medium dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt with a blue and white flannel.

You were at your locker taking out some books for your next class,

Y/B/F/N and Y/F/N come up to you.

“Heyy” They both said hugging you and you hugged them back.

“Girls night at 8,You’re coming” your best friend said with a smile plastered on her face.

“I see I don’t have a choice” You said sarcastically.

“You’re right, You don’t. See you at 8” Your best friend said giving you a peck on the cheek and going her way to her next class leaving you and your friend alone.

You suddenly spotted Brett leaning against the lockers a couple feet from you two,

You turned your eyes to him as he looked towards your way, You quickly turned your focus back to your locker.

“Still not over him?” Your friend asked.

“Nope”

“Then go talk to him”

“Yeah right cause I’ll do that”

—AT THE GIRLS NIGHT—

“Girls I have an Idea!” One of your friends said in a excited tone.

It was you, your best friend and five more girls,

You all were some sort of pack but you still had a slight isolated feeling from all of them.

“We should do a question round!”

You all agreed and sat in a circle.

“Okay, so each girl has a turn to ask a question and all of the girls have to answer it”

“Y/B/F/N you ask first since you have the best questions” One of your friends insisted.

“Fine, umm.. Lets see.

Okay, Is there someone you have been interested in lately?”

The girls answered the question each in their turn until it was your turn;

“Umm maybe..” You said avoiding eye contact.

Your best friend had a confused look on her face as if she had no clue what you were talking about.

“What do you mean?” She asked in a slight aggressive tone.

“You didn’t tell her?” Your friend elbowed your rib catching your attention.

“Tell me what?”

“I’ll explain in private” You said taking your best friend to bathroom and locking the door behind you so you could talk alone.

“Y/N whats going on?”

“Well you remember how I told you that for some reason I always need to have crush on someone right?”

“Yeah”

“So after I got over H/N I have a new crush on someone but I haven’t found the right time to tell you who it is and to be honest I don’t even have enough confidence to say his name out loud.”

“Then am I supposed to guess?”

“Well yes but I will give you a clue.. He’s completely and totally out of my league

“Isaac?”

“No”

“Jackson?”

“Nope”

“Theo?”

“No”

“Come on Y/N  just tell me”

“I’ll give you a better clue, He’s one of your best friends”

“Is it Liam?”

“No”

“Brett”

“Maybe" You said quietly as you picked on your nails avoiding eye contact.

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause its never going to happen” You said slightly raising your voice.

“He’s friends with so many girls who are so much more social and way prettier than me,

I barely know him and he is so popular, why would he even notice a girl like me”

“If I must say you two look like you would fit each other”

“Don’t say that”

“Why?”

“Cause it won’t happen, he doesn’t even know who I am and even if he does I am way to shy to even look at him”

“Fine, But you need to tell me these things.

I’m your best friend, I’m supposed to be here for you no matter what”

You both got up and hugged and went back out to your friends.

“Did you tell her?” Your friend tugged on your arm.

“Yes”

“And..?”

“And that it”

———

It has been a week since that girls night and you were in your chemistry class,

One of the few classes you shared with Brett.

You were focused on your work as you felt this weird feeling, as if someone was watching you.

You lift your head up and turn your focus to the back of the classroom to catch Brett looking t you and turning his head as soon as you catch him.

“It’s just a incident” You thought to your self.

Chemistry was over and you met up with Your best friend for lunch.

As you were eating your focus turns to Brett.

The way his shirt fit him tightly on his toned muscles,

How parts of his hair fell upon his face.

But you then realised the girls he’s with.

A second before you turn back to the conversation you had with Y/B/F/N Brett suddenly looks at you, giving you a small wink.

You smile and turn your head back to your best friend, you feel you cheeks boiling and the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

“It only a coincidence” You thought trying to calm yourself down.

———

Its now Math, actually, you enjoyed math and you were good at it, one of the best in your class.

Another reason you enjoyed it was that it was the only class were you sat somewhere near Brett.

It was in the middle of the class and you were bored out of your mind.

You looked at Brett when he suddenly looks back up to you,

You raise one of your brows with a small smirk on your face,

He does the same and winks at you,

You roll your eyes sarcastically while giving him a small smile as you started blushing again.

As a result you two started exchanging different faces of sarcasm and flirting.

“Hes not into you, forget about it” you thought to yourself trying to get the idea of you two out of your head.

He suddenly leans towards you with his oh-so-known smirk smeared across his lips.

“Could you explain this? Im having a hard time understanding” He said in a slight flirtatious tone.

“Sure” You said with a small smile.

“Okay, so basically to find X you need to find the square root of 5 times 7..”

You showed him how to solve the equation but couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t the problem he was looking at, he was looking at you.

“Thanks” He said with the smirk still on his face as he turned back to his seat.

The bell rang and you quickly took your stuff and went to your locker, fortunately it was your last period and you couldn’t wait to put in your earphones and just walk home.

You close your locker as Brett suddenly appears leaning on it;

“Hey, I was wondering if you would like to walk home together” He asked.

“Sure, Why not” You said starting to blush, you were freaking out on the inside, why would he ask you to walk home? why is he suddenly trying to get your attention?

You two walked out the gate and started walking down a quiet street near the school.

“So I’ve been talking to Y/B/F/N lately..” He stated

“Oh my gosh” You mumbled under your breath.

“And what did she say?” You asked in a slightly insecure tone.

“Well, I’ll ask you first.

Do you like me?“

You were surprised by his question, it completely threw you off guard.

“I’m gonna kill her” you said sarcastically with an irritated look on your face.

“I hope you answer is a yes cause I really like Y/N”

You had a shocked look on your face, you couldn’t believe Brett Talbot just said that to you.

“YOU like ME?” You asked still quite shocked.

“Yeah, I mean you’re beautiful and your smile is just amazing.

I wanted to talk to you after Y/B/F/N told me what you said because you are always so shy and quite I couldn’t have know if you liked me”

“Well then I guess I do” You said trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“But why me? I mean, You’re so popular and you are friends with so many girls who are so much more prettier than me and way more social, and we never even had a conversation before”

“You caught my eye, don’t underestimate yourself. You are so beautiful and probably more than most of the girls I talk to, I can tell you that you are so much hotter than you think you are. I hear the guys talking about you every once in a while after practice”

At this point you really started blushing.

“How about this, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:30?”

“I’d love that”

—————————————————

{Hope you enjoyed and don’t forget to follow for more imagines,

Send me a message if you want a part 2}

XOXO ♡

2

Rory and Jess after the series finale; life in New York

optomisticgirl  asked:

Bed sharing? I'm a sucker for that.

god, i’m a sucker for this, too. thanks for this, B, because the minute i saw this, the wheels started turning! this turned into something bigger than i had planned and whoa, just wowwie, thanks for that! 

HOLD ME IN THIS, WILD, WILD, WORLD

Quite a few things fall within the top ten category of Annoyances in Emma Swan’s Life (trademark pending). 

There’s the day to day stuff that barely scratches the top fifty. The skips that make her break a heel at least once a month fall into the top twenty-five. 

Having no say whatsoever in chaperoning Henry’s eighth grade field trip to New York City? Well, that would be a top fifteen situation, if it weren’t for the fact that she managed to get out of work for this and spend some much needed quality time with her son. 

Finding out she’s sharing a room with another chaperone? That’s definitely a top fifteen situation, because the last time Emma shared a room with anyone it was with her cousin, Anna, and she quickly found out that the girl was just as talkative asleep as she was awake. 

Finding out she’s sharing a room with Mr. Killian Jones, Henry’s science teacher and cough guy Emma slept with exactly ten months ago and quickly put a stop to things because she so does not sleep with her son’s teachers? That quickly falls into a top ten situation. 

Opening the door to see they’ve been crammed in the most economical size room - one double bed, one desk, one dresser with a television from the stone ages (or at least back when Henry was born) and one arm chair all fit perfectly like a Sims room, with just enough floor space for two people to walk single file? 

Yeah, now she’s definitely tapped into the top five. 

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Blast from the Past

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

Pre-Serum Steve x Reader

Blast from the Past

Author: Morgan

Prompt: I just need an imagine where skinny Steve got sent to the future (temporarily also he doesn’t know he becomes Captain America yet) and the reader takes him on a cute date answering all his questions and kisses him, leaving him all stunned before he is sent back to his own time. [idk i’ve just really wanted to teach Steve about the world today, but also I am in love with the tiny him.]

Warnings: teensy bit of language.

Note: AWWWWWWWWWWW

The Facility was quiet today, you decided. Too quiet. And whenever things around here got too quiet, something was bound to go wrong. That was the case this particular Sunday afternoon. You were reading comic books, sitting on the floor cross-legged when there was a bright, blinding flash of white light.

You squinted, blocking your eyes from the sudden flash. When it dimmed, there was a man standing there. A man you knew all too well.

“Steve?” You asked, slowly standing up. You set your book on the coffee table and walked closer. He was small, short, the version of himself he had been in the forties. You wondered if something had happened to him. Had Hydra come up with a way to reverse the serum? “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you?” the smaller Steve asked, rubbing his eyes and looking around. A second ago he had been standing in a cafe in Brooklyn, and now he was…well he didn’t know that much. “Where am I?”

The larger, super-soldier Steve walked into the room precisely at that moment, wide-eyed. In some part of his memory, he remembered this. As quickly as he came in, he left, not that small Steve seemed to notice.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” You introduced. “You’re in upstate New York. I’ll…um…I’ll be right back. Stay right here. Don’t move.”

“O-Okay then…” Steve hesitantly took a seat on the couch and you dashed into the hall after normal Steve.

“Steve!” you hissed. A pair of large muscular hands reached out of a supply closet and pulled you inside.

“I thought it was a dream. I thought all of this was a dream,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“The little guy in there is me…was me. I don’t know how it happened, but I remember it somehow. A little. But it was too crazy for me to ever accept as reality.” Steve continued.

“You’re saying you were sent here from the past.”

“I was, yeah.”

“So what do we do?”

“I can’t do anything,” Steve said. “Neither can Bucky. We have to stay the hell away from him and pretty much hide out in here until Tony can figure out how to send him back. Send me back. This is confusing.”

“No shit,”

“How about…You have to distract him. Take him out of here. Like on a little date or something. He doesn’t go out much. He’ll love it, I promise,” Steve instructed, blue eyes meeting yours. He smiled a little, as if remembering something that had yet to happen. A rosy blush found its way to his cheeks.

“What?” You asked, cheeks burning red. How long you had been hopelessly crushing on Captain America, you couldn’t say. But now you were getting the chance to go on a date with him. Kind of.

“Nothing. Just-”

“Why the hell is a tiny version of you standing in the living room?” Tony asked, bursting into the closet. You both jumped, looking at him wide-eyed. “Oh, sorry, did I interrupt your make-out session?” he snapped.

“Don’t worry about it. (Y/N)’s gonna take him out on a date until you can figure out how to send him back.”

“Okay. Good. That’s a good plan.” Tony nodded, smirking at your flustered face. “Get out there.”

“Okay,” you nodded, walking out of the closet.

“(Y/N),” Steve said. You turned to look at him. “Thanks for this,”

“No problem,”

***

“So this is the future,” small Steve stated, looking around the enormous parking garage full of all of the Avengers’ vehicles. Some were new, some were old. Some were high-tech, some were ordinary mini-vans. It was quite a sight.

“Yep. The year 2016.”

“God, I’m probably dead.” Steve shook his head. “Or really, really old I guess.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you chuckled. “So where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I’ll figure something out,” You pulled a motorcycle helmet off of the wall and handed it to him before leading him over to your bike. You swung a leg over and patted the seat behind you. “Hop on,”

“Um, okay. I’ve, uh, never rode on one of these before.”

“First time for everything, right?”

***

“What’s this place?” Steve asked, looking up at the bright lights of Times Square. You figured if you were going to show him the future, you should go big or go home.

“Steve, this is New York. Times Square.” You told him. He gasped.

“Geez,”

“Yeah. It change a lot?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, his arms tight around your waist. You found a parking garage and parked your bike, stowing the helmets in the console.

You led him out of the garage and down the busy sidewalks, stopping in a few stores to show him things, namely, the Apple store, the Disney Store, and a giant toy store with a huge piano. You took him bowling and roller blading and out to see a movie and then you went to play laser tag and get ice cream. The sky was the limit with Tony’s credit card.

Steve spent the day laughing and smiling and joking around with you. He almost forgot that you were technically over half a century younger than him. If these were normal circumstances, he would have never met you.

Sometime in the evening, you stopped at a hot dog stand to grab a bite to eat. Both of you sat on a bench nearby.

“I’ve had a lot of fun today, (Y/N). Thanks.”

“No prob, Steve.”

“So um,” Steve looked at you. “You knew me when I… Are we friends?”

“Yeah. We are. We have been for a few years now.” You told him.

“Am I…old?”

“Yeah, a little,” you laughed, not quite telling a lie. “Still handsome as ever though.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t completely embarrassed myself yet. I’m, uh, not exactly great with women.”

“I know,” you nodded, smiling. “You took me on a tour once. Of all of the places you had been beaten up.”

“Yeah.” Steve shook his head. “Well, girls aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they could step on.”

“Maybe you don’t talk to the right girls,” you smirked. Steve chuckled. Your phone buzzed. It was Tony.

Tony: Guess who mastered time travel?!

“It’s Tony,” you told him. “He uh, found a way to send you back.”

“Oh,” Steve replied sadly. “I…guess we better get going then…”

“Yeah…”

***

You sadly stood in front of the machine Tony had built. The day had been so much fun. You never wanted it to end. But you knew it had to. Steve faced you. You took both of his hands in yours.

“Be careful back there,” you told him, trying to hold in tears. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you a hell of a lot. But for a girl like you, I’d wait a century if I had to.”

“Awww, come here,” You pulled him into a hug. “Never change, okay? Even if something happens to who you are on the outside, never change who you are on the inside.”

“I promise I won’t,” he said softly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled out of the hug to look at you. “I have to do something now because I’m afraid I might never get the chance.”

“Okay. Go for it.” you nodded, meeting his eyes. He started to lean forward, closing his eyes, but he stopped, nerves acting up. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to you, kissing him passionately. He kissed back timidly, lips moving along with yours. Shaky hands found your waist and he gingerly held you. Your hands moved from his collar to his soft cheeks, holding his face gently.

He pulled away with stars in his eyes.

“Woah,” he stated, shocked in the best way. “I…just…holy…”

“I’ll see you soon, I promise.” You smiled softly.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Not soon enough.”

Steve gave one lingering glance at you before stepping through the portal Tony had built and disappearing. The other Steve walked through the door, arms crossed, showing off his monstrous biceps. His shirt hugged his chest muscles tightly and now he towered over you. You couldn’t believe how different he was. But if you were being honest, you loved him either way.

“So uh, now you know,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck.

“Know what?”

“Know that I’ve been in love with you since the 1940’s but I thought I would never see you again.” He confessed.

“You have? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted that first kiss to be our first kiss,” he stated, watching you with his gentle blue eyes. “I didn’t know if it had been real until today, but now that I know it was, I guess it’s safe to show you these,” he handed you his sketchbook, a very, very old sketchbook that you were fairly certain he had gotten from the museum.

You opened to the middle of the book and flipped through his sketches, finding one of yourself. You gasped. The signature in the corner had a date with it. 5-6-41.

“Steve…” You whispered softly, tears in your eyes. He pulled you to his chest, holding you in his arms.

“When I met you again, after the ice, I realized it hadn’t happened. It wouldn’t happen for a while, and when he showed up today…” Steve sighed. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. His large hand stroked your chin, tilting your head up towards his. And for the first time in over seventy years, he kissed you again.

WHISTLE (Acoustic Ver.)
BLACKPINK
WHISTLE (Acoustic Ver.)

BLACKPINK - WHISTLE (Acoustic Ver.)

Hey boy
Make ‘em whistle like a missile bomb bomb
Every time I show up blow up uh
Make 'em whistle like a missile bomb bomb
Every time I show up blow up uh
넌 너무 아름다워
널 잊을 수가 없어
그 눈빛이 아직 나를
이렇게 설레게 해 boom boom
24 365
오직 너와 같이 하고파
낮에도 이 밤에도
이렇게 너를 원해 ooh ooh
모든 남자들이 날 매일 check out
대부분이 날 가질 수 있다 착각
절대 많은 걸 원치 않아 맘을 원해 난
넌 심장을 도려내 보여봐
아주 씩씩하게 때론 chic chic 하게
So hot so hot 내가 어쩔 줄 모르게 해
나지막이 불러줘
내 귓가에 도는 휘파람처럼
이대로 지나치지 마요
너도 나처럼 날 잊을
수가 없다면 whoa
널 향한 이 마음은 fire
내 심장이 빠르게 뛰잖아
점점 가까이 들리잖아
휘파람
Uh 휘 파람 파람 파람
Can you hear that
휘 파라파라 파라 밤
휘파람
Uh 휘 파람 파람 파람
Can you hear that
휘 파라파라 파라 밤
Hold up
아무 말 하지 마
Just whistle to my heart
그 소리가 지금 나를
이렇게 설레게 해 boom boom
생각은 지루해
느낌이 shhh
Every day all day
내 곁에만 있어줘 zoom zoom
Uh 언제나 난 styling
도도하지만 네 앞에선 darling
뜨거워지잖아 like a desert island
너 알아갈수록 울려대는 마음속
그만 내빼 넘어와라 내게 boy
이젠 checkmate
게임은 내가 win uh huh
난 널 택해 안아줘 더 세게
누가 널 가로
채 가기 전에 내가 uh
이대로 지나치지 마요
너도 나처럼 날 잊을
수가 없다면 whoa
널 향한 이 마음은 fire
내 심장이 빠르게 뛰잖아
점점 가까이 들리잖아
휘파람
Uh 휘 파람 파람 파람
Can you hear that
휘 파라파라 파라 밤
휘파람
Uh 휘 파람 파람 파람
Can you hear that
휘 파라파라 파라 밤
This beat got me feeling like
바람처럼 스쳐가는
흔한 인연이 아니길
많은 말은 필요 없어
지금 너의 곁에
나를 데려가 줘 ohh
Make 'em whistle like a missile bomb bomb
Every time I show up blow up uh
Make 'em whistle like a missile bomb bomb
Every time I show up blow up uh

2

“I’m always doing something, and I’ve found that success sometimes has a way of finding those who aren’t really looking for it. I’ve directed short films; I liked that a lot. I have two books out. I have a photography show that just came down in L.A. at the Voila! Gallery with huge photographs, giant pieces that are printed on metal. That show headed to Paris, and Tokyo after that. I also had a show in Times Square that was dramatic and fun. It was held for charity and everything was sold.” - Norman Reedus in GQ

New Year’s Eve Ficlet

A companion piece to this christmas fic.  Both rated Mature.

Happy New Year, everyone.  You’ve all been a great part of this one for me.  Thank you.

* * * * * * *

He doesn’t even think to call her until well after ten.  It’s not that he doesn’t like the holiday, or that he doesn’t wish her well, just that he doesn’t know if it’s his place to wish her anything.  He’s been given no rules to follow on this holiday – it doesn’t bring to mind family, or church, or children, or office parties.  The holiday that doesn’t belong to anyone.

This year, it belongs to him and his television.  He’s splayed out on the couch with a tray of bad cookies on his chest, watching a movie, when he thinks of her and convinces himself it’s appropriate, even funny, to call now.  He dials with the intention of blaming this movie forever if he’s wrong.

She answers on the second ring and he hears voices, festivity.  He licks his lips, holds his breath, torn between the anger that she didn’t invite him and the guilt of interrupting.  She assures him quickly that it’s the TV and then they have a moment of silence as his anxiety leaves him.

“I think we’re watching the same thing,” she says and he can hear her smiling.

“Well, it’s this or Dick Clark.  Not a lot of options.”  He doesn’t know why he’s downplaying the serendipity of it, the romance, when he was the one who picked up the phone, he was the one who thought of her as Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal pretended to themselves not to be in love.

“Did you see it in the movie theater?” he asks.

“On a date.”  He can feel his eyes light up, though there’s a scowl in his chest.  He doesn’t know why her whereabouts in July of 1989 should produce either reaction.

“How’d that go?”

“We made out a little in the dark, but we got into an argument afterwards and I never saw him again.”  He lowers the cookie in his hand back to the tray.

“You made out?  In the movie theater?”

She laughs a barely audible hiss of a laugh.  How little you know me, it says, how little you understand, how right Nora Ephron is about the friendship between a man and a woman.

“Scully,” he admonishes, but he’s sat up at attention in the sinking ship of his leather couch.  It’s cold in the apartment tonight and he’s brought in so many extra blankets he might have to throw himself overboard at some point.

“It’s not like we had sex in a playground, Mulder.  It’s the movies, it’s a date, people do it.”

“How far?”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“This is so unfair,” he barks.

“What, like we had some kind of appointment for me to share my darkest secrets?  You called me.”

“This isn’t your darkest secret, Scully.  We have darker secrets in our office than this.”

“He put his hand up my skirt.”

All his body parts go into conservation mode, freezing as they preserve energy for survival past this moment of crisis, except his eyelashes, which blink excessively, as if to process the image more quickly and be free of it. She doesn’t cover up the silence, doesn’t try to make him more comfortable, and fair enough since he’s the one who pushed the issue.  He comes to his senses, relaxing a bit as the scene begins, the one he was thinking of to begin with, when Harry and Sally are split-screen, watching the same movie while on the phone in their beds.  Suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t know if she’s in the kitchen, or on her couch or…

“Too bad you don’t have a bed.  Then this would really be cute.”

He’s grateful to have moved past the movie theater thing, though this newer image, he soon finds, is not much easier to handle.  Is she in her satin pajamas?  A big t-shirt like the one she was wearing that first night he asked her to go for a run?  A robe with nothing underneath… she reads his mind again.

“So, Mulder, what do you think?”  He instantly panics, his stomach lurching, his hand frantically adjusting his shorts as if she can see his hard-on through the phone.  

“I don’t – I was – “

“You know, can men and women really be friends?”  She doesn’t have to add the rest, the without sex interfering part of the movie’s hypothesis.  He doesn’t know how to tell her no, no he doesn’t think so, since he’s sitting here picturing a woman he has never intended to seduce in her underwear, picturing a woman who gets spinach stuck in her teeth at lunch in nothing but a robe so sexy he doubts she even owns it, doubts any woman actually owns it.

“Sure, they can be friends,” he lies instead and the inflection of the humming noise she makes tells him she doesn’t quite believe it either.  Last year, he would have expected for her to swear that friendship and sex were separate.  But ten days ago, she took him by the tie and kissed him, really kind of kissed him, at a corny office Christmas party, so he’s not sure what to think.

“So how come no plans?” she asks.

“I never make plans on New Year’s Eve.  Wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“It always seems like such a setup for disappointment,” she agrees, though he gets the idea that maybe she doesn’t fully believe that either.  She’s humoring him, making believe she shares his melancholy, because that’s the kind of friend she is, even when he’s being an asshole picturing her naked, she’s that kind of friend.  He remembers this part, the friend part, and decides to tell her something he has never told anyone.

“I’d like to have a real one like the one in this movie someday.  You know, girl all dressed up, Auld Lang Syne playing, kiss at midnight.”

“Don’t forget the big speech.”

“I can do a big speech.”

“You do them every morning.  With slides.”

He chuckles.  A minute passes, two, as they both watch the film.  He hears a rustle of bedding he recognizes from crummy hotels across the nation and knows she’s getting tired.  She yawns.  She’ll be hanging up now, any minute, he thinks, and feels sad, the kind of sadness he usually avoids by not making plans on this night, not setting any of those wicked expectations.

“You wanna just stay on till midnight passes?” she asks.  He could almost cry at the gesture of kindness.  

“Sure,” he says, persuading himself of his nonchalance by dusting a crumbled Fig Newton off the couch.  Then they’re both quiet until the credits are rolling and his neck is stiff where it’s crooked around the heavy plastic of the phone.  He thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep but doesn’t want to be the first to hang up…

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

“Happy New Year.”

*

It’s easy to forget things out here in the middle of nowhere; that’s what they liked about the house in the first place.  They had a lot to forget then, and they wanted to be forgotten. So it’s no surprise to him that in the time she’s been gone, Scully has forgotten some things - the zip code, where he keeps the toothpicks, the paper clips, or how the soup bowls only fit when they go in a certain way.  What today is.

He does remember what today is. He’s been anticipating it since she decided to stay the night after fucking him on the living room floor.  It’s the anniversary of their first kiss – not counting that mistletoe kiss that one year – the only anniversary they’ve ever really been able to mark.  He’s considered giving her a gift, making dinner like he always did, but to acknowledge the date would mean discussing how long she’s been here (seven nights).  It would mean finding out what this duration of stay means, or more worrisome, that it means nothing.  So he doesn’t mention it, goes about the day like it’s any other day when the woman he loves has come home.  Carefully. Anxiously.  Happily.

She runs errands during the day as she’s done frequently the past week. He would offer to do it for her, but he knows she doesn’t need anything other than to be part of the world.  That was part of the problem the first time around. It’s something they’ll have to address if they - if she – no, he won’t do that to himself, won’t imagine packing up his stuff with her, arguing about condos versus co-ops, planning what to keep, what to get rid of, how to start over together.

She stashes her shopping in the bedroom and they eat a pleasant but uneventful dinner.  She says she’s heading to take a bath and read.  He normally follows her up when he hears the word bath, responding like Pavlov’s dog to the tune of the faucet.  He pads in quietly, slips a hand into the bubbles to watch the slow, expectant smile cross her face without her eyes ever opening. Tonight, he stays and waits ‘til she’s safely out of earshot to put Dick Clark on.  He wants to see the year pass, needs it.  It was a year without her.

He hears her footsteps at ten minutes to twelve, amidst the canned energy of the pre-taped show ramping up and the real energy of Times Square contained only by the confines of the box in his living room.  He taps the remote, but the batteries are low, and it doesn’t respond on the first try, the second, the third.  And anyway, by the third, he’s not even aiming correctly because he’s turned around and found her coming down the steps in a short blue cocktail dress.

Navy blue or maybe it’s green.  Low and heart-shaped on her breasts, ruffled from the hip down.  At first he thinks he’s seen her in it, or seen it in her closet, it seems so familiar.  But it looks nothing like her, nothing like the classy, cap-sleeved black dresses he can so easily picture her in.

“It’s the closest I could find,” she says and he immediately remembers the scene in the movie – Meg Ryan’s pale shoulders, Billy running in, the weight of a happy ending weighing heavy on his shoulders.  There’s no crowd here, no lighting, but Scully is pretty enough to make up for all of that - her hair pulled up messily from the treachery of bath water, her blue eyes rimmed in runny mascara, her cheeks still rosy with heat and maybe more than just that.  She reaches the end of the staircase and bends, slings a pair of satin high heels off her fingers and onto her feet.  “I didn’t want you to hear me coming down.”

He’s on his knees on the couch now, elbow locked and leaning, his jaw nearly thudding the wood planks of the floor.  He turns slowly, a carousel on its last round, following the swing of her hips as her shoes slowly clip-clop to the space between him and the TV.

“I’m not dressed for the occasion,” he says and she glances at the clothes he hasn’t changed out of today – a flannel shirt, a pair of old jeans – and nods. It’s true, Harry only realizes at the last second that he loves Sally; he doesn’t have time to get dressed for it. Mulder wonders how many years Scully has been waiting to do this just to truly catch him by surprise.  

He swings his legs out from under him, puts his feet on the floor as she sidles up, her knees between his knees, her bony ankles slightly wobbling against his in the unfamiliar heels.  She lifts his chin.

“Go ahead, make your speech,” she says.

“I didn’t have time to prepare…”

“You had twenty years.”  

“You are everything to me,” he blurts.  She playfully bobs her head from side to side – good start.  “This past seven nights have been so –“

“Eight, now.”  He grins and sputters on, wishing he had his projector and slides to rely on.

“It’s been so amazing.  Please don’t go.”

“I’m all dressed up, I have to go to the party.  You’re going to have to try harder to make me stay.”

He puts his hands around her waist, the funny, shiny material itchy between his fingers, and pulls her closer, kisses the cluster of freckles above her cleavage – this is one of the things Harry would have mentioned had he been in love with Scully instead of Sally.  But Mulder’s already told her about it hundreds of times.  He can’t really think of anything he hasn’t told her a hundred times and silently applauds Harry’s creativity.

“I didn’t mean tonight,” he whispers.  “I meant don’t go ever.”

“Oh,” she says with mock surprise, a teacher hearing about an overambitious science project.  “Then you’re really going to have to try hard.”

He glances at the TV, the clock visible in the upper right hand corner. He has seven minutes, so he gets right to it, slides his hand up the inside of her leg, pushes the stretchy, lacy panties to the side and cups her in the heel of his hand.  Her body tilts forward in it, the carriage of a ferris wheel passing low, letting him climb in.

These seven minutes that have seemed so long every other year from couches and barstools seem positively fleeting with his fingers inside her and his mouth wide around her breast, then narrow around her nipple, the green-blue prom dress scratching the scruff of his chin.  This, he realizes, is how one is supposed to pass those last minutes. He’s been doing it wrong all these years, everyone has.

She comes sooner than he expects, with one minute to go, and he wonders if she was paying attention to time.  He would not be surprised to find out she could calibrate an orgasm that well, not after the things he’s seen, but there are still things he doesn’t know about her, there always will be.  He pulls her dress up back over her breast and the weight of her body sinks against him to wait.

When the countdown begins, his face is between her hands, her chest rising and falling beneath his nose.  The last things he smells this year are his saliva and her bubble bath, popcorn butter and peppermint.  They both listen like this, not moving, as if straining to hear something very quiet, eavesdropping on a revelrous crowd of five hundred thousand.

She kisses him at precisely midnight, with a smile against his teeth when the screaming comes.  She points into the empty air of their old house as Auld Lang Syne begins to play, as if to say her plot is complete, as if to say she’s plotted every New Year’s celebration since that song was written.  He presses his ear to her chest and wraps his arms around her, all of her, a hand around her neck and one around a calf.  He thinks of how much he loves her, how much he has missed her, but also of her tits and the color of her underwear, and he knows even all these years later, he cannot just be her friend.

“Happy New Year, Scully.”

She reads his mind like always, taking off her underwear (black) as she answers the rest of his questions aloud.

“Happy anniversary, Mulder.”

This holiday has always belonged to her, they all have.