The Ghost and the Skeptic | R | Glee/The X Files
Title: The Ghost and the Skeptic
Prompt: the basement
Fandom: Mrs. Schuester/Dana Scully, Glee/The X Files
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: R
Word Count: 1148
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Because my dear friend is extremely spoiled, I decided to humor the completely off-the-wall pairing that she requested. I did my very best to deliver something somewhat-conceivable and I really hope I managed to pull it off. If I didn’t…well…I did my best! I’m not super confident that this is my best work, but I tried. Let me know what you think!
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Mrs. Schuester had been coming to this basement office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for almost a month. Her meetings with the petite redheaded agent had begun as a result of ghostly activity back in her home in Ohio. Mrs. Schuester confessed that the ghost of her dead mother was haunting her. Agent Mulder believed her. Agent Scully did not.
She remembered that first look of doubt on the redhead’s face when the three of them toured her haunted house. She could read the apprehension in Agent Scully’s eyes and, after Agent Mulder had left to interview Mrs. Schuester’s husband while he worked in the garage, Agent Scully quietly asked her how long she’d been harboring a drinking problem.
The case had been closed; apparently her brand of paranormal activity wasn’t enough to interest the agents when there were monsters and UFOs and other more exciting things to explore. Mrs. Schuester could deal with the ghost of her mother, who liked to ruffle her table cloth and break expensive china.
What she could not deal with was being called an alcoholic.
She’d returned to Washington D.C. to set the record straight. So she enjoyed wine a little more than the average person; so she needed a glass or two to get through the day. Did that make her a liar, or a bad person? No. It made her a woman with a crutch, and she knew that Agent Scully probably had one of her own. Everyone did. Maybe Agent Scully’s crutch was the gold cross around her neck. Maybe it was in finding ways to step outside of her partner’s shadow. Mrs. Schuester had been determined to access this crutch and prove that the agent was in no position to judge.
They were more on equal footing than Mrs. Schuester anticipated, despite how glaringly obvious their differences were. Where the blonde was self-conscious, the redhead was self-assured. Where the blonde was weak, the redhead was strong. But the overlaps, the similarities, were what caught Mrs. Schuester off guard.
It took a woman of unspeakable sadness to be able to recognize it in someone else, and Mrs. Schuester recognized it in Agent Scully. They were both lost. They were both chess pieces in a game that was controlled by the men in their lives. Mrs. Schuester moved around her board by the direction of her son and her husband, and Scully moved by the direction of her male superiors and her partner.
They were both pawns. They were the least important pieces in the games they called their lives.
Whatever Mrs. Schuester had expected to find in this little windowless office, whether it be retribution or solace or an exorcism, she had not expected it to come in the form of a sexual encounter.
In a move that was controlled by no one but themselves, Mrs. Schuester and Agent Scully sought something in each other that they received nowhere else.
It didn’t feel wrong to be on her knees beneath a desk that didn’t belong to either of them. She felt no guilt when she pushed up Agent Scully’s skirt, rolled down her panties and pantyhose, and fucked her with her mouth. The taste of her was better than wine, better than intoxication.
They were simply two woman stripped of their identities-Dana had disappeared and Agent Scully, a woman of male creation, took her place. Mrs. Schuester barely recognized her own given name anymore. She simply felt like a byproduct of a loveless marriage. She felt like a watercolor painting, upon which all of the colors had bled together into a blurry mess. She lacked clarity, focus, sharpness, which she only exacerbated with her wine intake.
She felt as much of a ghost as her mother.
For most of her adult life, Mrs. Schuester felt like a stranger in her own skin. It was only in the month during which she met with Agent Scully (only when Agent Mulder was out of town) that she felt stirrings of familiarity. It was as though she were reappearing. These moments were strongest when she was making Agent Scully come. In that blissful and always surprising moment (who knew she would ever excel at anything, much less something like cunnilingus?), Agent Scully stopped being a government pawn and became Dana again, alive and whole and worthy of being seen as a beautiful woman. Having the ability to give that to someone else made Mrs. Schuester feel as though she might be capable of doing it for herself.
Dana certainly made a great effort to give as much back as she received. When she pushed aside Mrs. Schuester’s ash blonde hair and kissed her soundly, they both forgot to think about the lives that had pushed them into this position in the first place. Mrs. Schuester stopped thinking of her family and her obligations when Dana’s hand worked between her legs.
It was only afterwards, when Mrs. Schuester was panting and sated, that her mind began to drift. They held each other, their differences laid aside, and clung to the quiet moments before their lives interceded. Mrs. Schuester wondered what had happened in Dana’s life to lead her to these moments. She wondered what pain she had experienced and horrors she had seen. She wondered why their interludes continued after that first kiss by the elevator.
It was about choices. Mrs. Schuester had been prone to making bad choices in her life, especially as a result of drinking. She was of the belief that Dana was sick of making choices that were dictated by those around her and simply wanted to make a radical choice for herself. Perhaps they would have never looked twice had they passed each other in the mall. Perhaps they had little in common to steer successful conversations. They were not in love.
They were both simply two haunted women, looking for something that no one else could give.
Mrs. Schuester acknowledged for the first time since the affair began that her mother had led her not to Agent Scully, but back to herself. She knew with absolute certainty that when she returned to Ohio that the ghost would be gone.
What she didn’t know was what she would do next. She knew she had to leave her husband. She knew she had to beat her addiction. She didn’t know how to do these things, for these two elements had dictated the course of her life for over twenty years. She’d been so used to being a pawn for the greater part of her life that she didn’t know how to be a queen.
For the first time in her life, Mrs. Schuester felt ready to try walking without her crutch. She was ready to get her life back. All she had needed to get her on the right path was a ghost and a skeptic.
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Prompt: the basement
Fandom: Mrs. Schuester/Dana Scully, Glee/The X Files
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: R
Word Count: 1148
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Because my dear friend is extremely spoiled, I decided to humor the completely off-the-wall pairing that she requested. I did my very best to deliver something somewhat-conceivable and I really hope I managed to pull it off. If I didn’t…well…I did my best! I’m not super confident that this is my best work, but I tried. Let me know what you think!
-
Mrs. Schuester had been coming to this basement office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for almost a month. Her meetings with the petite redheaded agent had begun as a result of ghostly activity back in her home in Ohio. Mrs. Schuester confessed that the ghost of her dead mother was haunting her. Agent Mulder believed her. Agent Scully did not.
She remembered that first look of doubt on the redhead’s face when the three of them toured her haunted house. She could read the apprehension in Agent Scully’s eyes and, after Agent Mulder had left to interview Mrs. Schuester’s husband while he worked in the garage, Agent Scully quietly asked her how long she’d been harboring a drinking problem.
The case had been closed; apparently her brand of paranormal activity wasn’t enough to interest the agents when there were monsters and UFOs and other more exciting things to explore. Mrs. Schuester could deal with the ghost of her mother, who liked to ruffle her table cloth and break expensive china.
What she could not deal with was being called an alcoholic.
She’d returned to Washington D.C. to set the record straight. So she enjoyed wine a little more than the average person; so she needed a glass or two to get through the day. Did that make her a liar, or a bad person? No. It made her a woman with a crutch, and she knew that Agent Scully probably had one of her own. Everyone did. Maybe Agent Scully’s crutch was the gold cross around her neck. Maybe it was in finding ways to step outside of her partner’s shadow. Mrs. Schuester had been determined to access this crutch and prove that the agent was in no position to judge.
They were more on equal footing than Mrs. Schuester anticipated, despite how glaringly obvious their differences were. Where the blonde was self-conscious, the redhead was self-assured. Where the blonde was weak, the redhead was strong. But the overlaps, the similarities, were what caught Mrs. Schuester off guard.
It took a woman of unspeakable sadness to be able to recognize it in someone else, and Mrs. Schuester recognized it in Agent Scully. They were both lost. They were both chess pieces in a game that was controlled by the men in their lives. Mrs. Schuester moved around her board by the direction of her son and her husband, and Scully moved by the direction of her male superiors and her partner.
They were both pawns. They were the least important pieces in the games they called their lives.
Whatever Mrs. Schuester had expected to find in this little windowless office, whether it be retribution or solace or an exorcism, she had not expected it to come in the form of a sexual encounter.
In a move that was controlled by no one but themselves, Mrs. Schuester and Agent Scully sought something in each other that they received nowhere else.
It didn’t feel wrong to be on her knees beneath a desk that didn’t belong to either of them. She felt no guilt when she pushed up Agent Scully’s skirt, rolled down her panties and pantyhose, and fucked her with her mouth. The taste of her was better than wine, better than intoxication.
They were simply two woman stripped of their identities-Dana had disappeared and Agent Scully, a woman of male creation, took her place. Mrs. Schuester barely recognized her own given name anymore. She simply felt like a byproduct of a loveless marriage. She felt like a watercolor painting, upon which all of the colors had bled together into a blurry mess. She lacked clarity, focus, sharpness, which she only exacerbated with her wine intake.
She felt as much of a ghost as her mother.
For most of her adult life, Mrs. Schuester felt like a stranger in her own skin. It was only in the month during which she met with Agent Scully (only when Agent Mulder was out of town) that she felt stirrings of familiarity. It was as though she were reappearing. These moments were strongest when she was making Agent Scully come. In that blissful and always surprising moment (who knew she would ever excel at anything, much less something like cunnilingus?), Agent Scully stopped being a government pawn and became Dana again, alive and whole and worthy of being seen as a beautiful woman. Having the ability to give that to someone else made Mrs. Schuester feel as though she might be capable of doing it for herself.
Dana certainly made a great effort to give as much back as she received. When she pushed aside Mrs. Schuester’s ash blonde hair and kissed her soundly, they both forgot to think about the lives that had pushed them into this position in the first place. Mrs. Schuester stopped thinking of her family and her obligations when Dana’s hand worked between her legs.
It was only afterwards, when Mrs. Schuester was panting and sated, that her mind began to drift. They held each other, their differences laid aside, and clung to the quiet moments before their lives interceded. Mrs. Schuester wondered what had happened in Dana’s life to lead her to these moments. She wondered what pain she had experienced and horrors she had seen. She wondered why their interludes continued after that first kiss by the elevator.
It was about choices. Mrs. Schuester had been prone to making bad choices in her life, especially as a result of drinking. She was of the belief that Dana was sick of making choices that were dictated by those around her and simply wanted to make a radical choice for herself. Perhaps they would have never looked twice had they passed each other in the mall. Perhaps they had little in common to steer successful conversations. They were not in love.
They were both simply two haunted women, looking for something that no one else could give.
Mrs. Schuester acknowledged for the first time since the affair began that her mother had led her not to Agent Scully, but back to herself. She knew with absolute certainty that when she returned to Ohio that the ghost would be gone.
What she didn’t know was what she would do next. She knew she had to leave her husband. She knew she had to beat her addiction. She didn’t know how to do these things, for these two elements had dictated the course of her life for over twenty years. She’d been so used to being a pawn for the greater part of her life that she didn’t know how to be a queen.
For the first time in her life, Mrs. Schuester felt ready to try walking without her crutch. She was ready to get her life back. All she had needed to get her on the right path was a ghost and a skeptic.
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