Hollywood A.D. : Picspam/Fic

[hummingfly67.livejournal.com]

Memorable Mulder/Scully Exchanges:




Scully: Mulder…

Mulder: Yeah?

Scully: Do you think it’s at all possible that Hoffman is really Jesus Christ?

Mulder: Are you making fun of me?

Scully: No.

Mulder: Well, no, I don’t. But crazy people can be very persuasive.

Scully: Well, yes, I know that.

(I love the little look they exchange after Scully says that, with the smiles. We all know who the crazy person is.)




Mulder: (on phone) You know, Scully, I was just thinking about Lazarus, Ed Wood and those tofurkey-eating zombies. How come when people come back from the dead they always want to hurt the living?

Scully: (on phone) Well, that’s because people really can’t come back from the dead, Mulder. I mean, ghosts and zombies are just projections of our own repressed cannibalistic and sexual fears and desires. They are who we fear that we are at heart – just mindless automatons who can only kill and eat.

Mulder: (on phone) Party pooper. Well, I got a new theory. I say that when zombies try to eat people, that’s just the first stage. You see, they’ve just come back from being dead so they’re going to do all the things they miss from when they were alive. So, first, they’re going to eat, they they’re going to drink, then they’re going to dance and make love.

Scully: (on phone) Oh, I see. So it’s just that we never get to stay with them long enough to see the gentler side of the undead.

(First, how sexy is Scully in that tub? Second, how hot is it to have her say ‘our own repressed cannibalistic and sexual fears and desires’ and Mulder saying ‘…they’re going to dance and make love’? Third, did anyone notice that Mulder’s right hand is not visible during this conversation and that there is a lot of bubble/water movement as Scully talks???)




Scully: Mulder, I have something to confess.

Mulder: What’s that?

Scully: I’m in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner.

Mulder: Ah…Me, too.

(Who didn’t squee just a little when Mulder & Scully held hands as they went by the green screen? And GA/Scully's giggle...)


Other Note-Worthy Lines:
Wayne Federman: He said that you come at things maybe a little fahkatke, a little Star Trekky, which is the exact vibe I’m looking for for this thing I’m doing. It’s a Silence of the Lambs meets Greatest Story Ever Told type thing. It’s..beautiful, and I will not be in your way. I’ll be strictly Heisenbergian – a hologram.

Skinner: Agent Scully… if I’m carrying Marilyn Monroe’s purse do your assume that I slept with J.F.K.?

Zombie: Tofurkey! I asked for tofurkey! I’m a vegetarian! Half the zombies are vegetarian! Oh, my God!

Gary Shandling: Uh, do you dress to the left or to the right?

Tea Leoni as Scully: Is that your flashlight, Mulder, or…you just happy to be lying on top of me?


And lastly, the fic...


Title: Premiere Night Moves
Author: hummingfly67
Pairing: Scully/Skinner
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Post-ep for Hollywood AD. Not the expected pairing, so I guess it would be termed AU.

A/N: Mulder/Scully is my OTP, but every once in a while I color outside the lines. Thanks to idella and starry_eyed466 for beta.

* * *

His Hollywood premiere night at a tragically premature end, Skinner dismisses his limo driver outside the swanky hotel. He ignores the doorman as he strides inside, and heads across the tiled lobby floor with brisk strides.

At the elevators he isn’t paying attention and nearly walks over the exiting passenger. An awkward dance ensues; his hands clasp bare, toned arms. He opens his mouth to apologize, only to blink in surprise as he recognizes the woman. He releases her quickly, cheeks burning.

Dana Scully stands before him still in her movie attire. He watches her gaze drift down and take in the bow tie strung around his neck and the loosened collar of his starched white shirt. He’s not sure, but thinks he sees a flicker of appreciation in her eyes. Her expression gives nothing away.

“Agent Scully, I’m…surprised to see you,” he scrambles. “Where’s Agent Mulder?”

“The movie…” she starts, and then shakes her head. “I drank him under the table,” she says wryly. “He’s passed out in his room.”

It doesn’t surprise him that Scully handles her liquor better than her partner. He is uncertain as to whether he had heard disappointment or pragmatism in her voice.

“And you, sir? Your evening ended early.”

He grimaces slightly. “Apparently, while Assistant Producer Walter Skinner’s clout worked for movie tickets, it failed to pass muster with regard to invitations for the good after-parties.” He hates himself for the gesture, but he uses finger quotes when he says ‘good’.

Deadpan, Scully remarks, “Flashlight wasn’t big enough?”

He almost chokes. Hadn’t seen that one coming. He surprises himself with his next words. “To tell you the truth, Agent Scully, I don’t think my…flashlight...had enough energy.” He looks away briefly, glancing around the deserted lobby, and then leans closer to finish with, “She was young enough to be my daughter.”

Scully ducks her head, clearly hiding a grin, and after a moment meets his gaze frankly, eyes sparkling. “Can I buy you a drink, sir?” she asks. “I’ve got excellent credit.”

A generous tip persuades the bartender in the empty hotel bar to sell them a bottle of scotch. By mutual consent, they head up to his suite.

Once inside, he removes his jacket and tosses it on a nearby chair, while Scully wanders around the sitting room. He hopes he is discreet as he checks out her sexily bare legs, the sway of her ass, the perky swing of her hair. The knowing smile he catches a glimpse of tells him otherwise. He quickly realizes the glimpse was intentional. Awareness fills him, has him pondering the possibilities. And ignoring the little voice in his head that spouts rules about fraternizing with subordinates.

Before he can retrieve the glasses for their drinks, Scully is at his side, her hand landing lightly on his bicep. He turns to ask if she needs something, and her hand slides to his chest. He sucks in air, and his heart starts to thud beneath her palm.

“I really didn’t come up here for a drink,” she says without artifice. “If that isn’t the case for you, we’ll share one, and I’ll leave.”

Her statement clears any lingering hesitation. Reaching out, he boldly grabs her by the hips and yanks her against him, letting her feel his burgeoning arousal. “Does this feel like I want you to leave?”

She does a slow grind against him as she speaks in a voice as sultry as sin. “That feels like you need to be fucked, Associate Producer Skinner.”

His hands are eager and maybe a little rough as he runs them up her sides to hold her head still. She clearly doesn’t mind as she presses into him and clutches at his back. He leans down and takes possession of her mouth. They both gasp for air when the kiss finally breaks.

Bending slightly, he lifts her effortlessly.

Her legs encircle his waist and her arms drape over his shoulders. The way her ass bounces against him as he walks sends sparks of pleasure dancing along his spine. She ducks her head and her hair tickles his cheek. When her teeth delicately nip at his earlobe, he staggers, arms tightening reflexively. Her laugh, bold and lusty and full of delight, shoots the sparks of pleasure higher, and his anticipation flares.

His intended destination had been the bedroom with its enormous bed, but the accent chair in the corner by the huge floor-to-ceiling window gives him a different idea.

The drapes are open. The black night and the lights of the city are a brilliant backdrop to her beauty as he sets her down. Her eyebrow quirks when he makes no move to draw the drapes. He stares at her challengingly as he unbuttons his shirt and barely contains a grin when she reaches behind her for the zipper of her dress.

He tosses his shirt aside and unbuckles his belt as she slides her arms out of the dress, keeping the material pressed provocatively to her chest. She pauses to watch him remove his socks, pants and briefs. Settling in the chair, he meets her gaze.

Raising her chin, Scully drops her arms and shimmies her hips, and the dress slowly slides down her body to pool at her feet. Like her dress, her undergarments are black, but they are far from simple. She removes them with an easy grace and a little flair, and he swallows heavily when she stands nude before him. His heart hammers against his ribs.

“Turn around,” he rasps, and after a beat, she does. Vibrant against her pale skin, the tattoo shocks the hell out of him. “Christ.” Leaning forward, he traces it lightly with his index finger, feeling her shiver. Ducking his head down, his tongue follows the path of his finger, and her back arches as she moans aloud. He feels the sound everywhere in his body. Breathing accelerated, he straightens and grasps her hips to guide her backwards.

He settles her on his upper thighs and slides his hands down to her legs, gliding his fingertips slowly back and forth along her soft, smooth skin. She sighs and shifts restlessly, thighs parting slightly in invitation. In response, he gently nudges with his thumbs and her legs fall open to drape on either side of his.

Bending his head, he inhales the light scent of her perfume before he puts his teeth to her neck, making her shiver and shift her hips. “Scully,” he says. He can’t bring himself to call her Dana. Though maybe in another time or place, he could, and she would call him Walter. Not Skinner, or Sir. “Scully,” he says again, both a question and a plea.

“Yes,” she says, and moves against him purposefully. “Oh, yes.”

After, they stagger to the bedroom with its enormous bed. There, he discovers he has more than enough energy to power his flashlight again.

Hours later, the faint click of a door rouses him. Squinting in the darkness, he reaches out with his hand and finds only empty space. He is not surprised to wake alone.

The scratches on his back sting.

* * *

credit to: insidethex.co.uk, xfilesarchive.com (anniemarie75) and chrisnu.com