scully x monica

Excerpts: The secluded booth was permanently reserved for none other than Scully, a woman with skin as pale as a milk punch and hair as red as a Bloody Mary. Not that she would ever drink either, mind you. She preferred liquor that had teeth, and she had a particular fondness for the kind that carried the name “bourbon.”

The worn, burgundy leather of the bar booth doubled as the padded walls of Scully’s office. She was now entering her second year of working out of the booth, and her fourth year of working as a private investigator. ********

The dame had come to the bar alone. Inevitably, this did not last. Scully rolled her eyes as a taller man approached her, cocking his head as he introduced himself.

It was at this point that Scully usually looked away. This pretty woman was taller than the women Scully usually admired from her booth, but she was a pretty woman all the same, and The Red Clover was forever teeming with eager gnats. It always made Scully bitter, watching them hover and then buzz over to the women.

It wasn’t that Scully wanted to be a gnat. She was perfectly happy being just herself. Still, she resented that she couldn’t do more than watch. She wanted to be able to fly, too.

Scully usually looked away, but this woman was too intriguing to let go of so soon. So, today, she sipped her bourbon and kept watching. And, to her enjoyment, the outcome of the interaction differed from what she was used to seeing. ******** “I know it might sound a bit cosmic, but I possess a sort of… sensitivity to the unseen. The energies of the universe. Vibrations.”

“Vibrations.” Scully crossed her arms over her chest. This all sounded like a load of applesauce.

“Yes.” Reyes did not waver.

“What, like you’re psychic?”

The tall woman’s grin was wide but controlled, warm yet dignified. She was already fitting in quite well at The Red Clover.

“That’s the term that usually gets the idea across for most people, yes. I have been called psychic detective by many of my clients.”

Excerpts: The secluded booth was permanently reserved for none other than Scully, a woman with skin as pale as a milk punch and hair as red as a Bloody Mary. Not that she would ever drink either, mind you. She preferred liquor that had teeth, and she had a particular fondness for the kind that carried the name “bourbon.”

The worn, burgundy leather of the bar booth doubled as the padded walls of Scully’s office. She was now entering her second year of working out of the booth, and her fourth year of working as a private investigator. ********

The dame had come to the bar alone. Inevitably, this did not last. Scully rolled her eyes as a taller man approached her, cocking his head as he introduced himself.

It was at this point that Scully usually looked away. This pretty woman was taller than the women Scully usually admired from her booth, but she was a pretty woman all the same, and The Red Clover was forever teeming with eager gnats. It always made Scully bitter, watching them hover and then buzz over to the women.

It wasn’t that Scully wanted to be a gnat. She was perfectly happy being just herself. Still, she resented that she couldn’t do more than watch. She wanted to be able to fly, too.

Scully usually looked away, but this woman was too intriguing to let go of so soon. So, today, she sipped her bourbon and kept watching. And, to her enjoyment, the outcome of the interaction differed from what she was used to seeing. ******** “I know it might sound a bit cosmic, but I possess a sort of… sensitivity to the unseen. The energies of the universe. Vibrations.”

“Vibrations.” Scully crossed her arms over her chest. This all sounded like a load of applesauce.

“Yes.” Reyes did not waver.

“What, like you’re psychic?”

The tall woman’s grin was wide but controlled, warm yet dignified. She was already fitting in quite well at The Red Clover.

“That’s the term that usually gets the idea across for most people, yes. I have been called psychic detective by many of my clients.”

Scully paused her tapping. “Why do you need to know?”

The other woman sat still for a moment before rearranging herself again. “I just would like the full picture, is all.”

She turned to look at Reyes, whose face was softly lit by the golden streetlight drifting in through the windshield. “I don’t give out my first name.”

Reyes cocked her head. “Why not?”

“First names are too familiar. You give a man your first name, and he sees you as a woman.” This was an explanation Scully was accustomed to doling out.

Summary: Scully and Monica go undercover in the world of wine nights, mommy blogs, PTA meetings, and a peculiar fad that toys the line with obsession. In the dream of suburbia, they're faced with much more than just their case to unravel.