Gillovny prompt for you jhh: I remember you said you have a denial theory that Gillovny is doing all that with PM and MP so they can come out later as a new couple and the press won’t ask about their past. Could you maybe turn this theory into a fanfic? Thank you! <3

It’s been a year since they agreed on this. The decision was made quickly, he feels like he didn’t even have his word to say. They expressed their desire to come out, they explained their worries, some guy in a five fingers black suit found a solution in three steps. “Easy,” he said. Gillian said “yes,” his lawyer signed a paper, her lawyer signed it too, they shook hands and it was done. “Easy,” he repeated to himself.

It was “easy,” at least in the beginning. They found the perfect guy, British but not really, divorced but not really, the type of guy she could be attracted to. But not really. He felt odd when he had to let her go with him the first time, but he got used to it. It was the first step, his own first step, actually. He had to learn to share. Ceremony after ceremony, he had to watch the love of his life show herself with another man.

Jealous would be an understatement to define him. He’s possessive, territorial even. But her sweet words and soft touches never failed to reassure him. He was the one and the only one for her. He convinced himself that he could live like that a little more. It was for the best. Even after a certain day of June, when she called him in tears to apologize for what she called “an unfortunate accident”, he still thought it was the right thing to do. It was his turn to reassure her, to tell her it was okay and to renew his trust in her.

But if he was being honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t okay. Something has changed between them, and he feared it was forever. He made it to a new step. He had to learn to live without watching, reading, listening, caring. He had to rely on trust and only on trust, even though when he closed his eyes at night, this picture haunted his dreams turning them into terrible nightmares. Even today, when he finds himself on his knees in a moment of pure intimacy, with his hands on her hips, he has to take a deep breath and chase the ghost of Italy away before he strips her down. She knows, he can see it. He can tell that her lips say “I love you,” but her eyes say “I’m sorry.” They usually take twenty-five years to resolve their issues and he isn’t sure they have twenty-five more years to resolve this one. It was supposed to make them happier, to allow them to live their life normally, as a couple and as individuals too. But it’s consuming them slowly from the inside. Day after day, the sparkle in her eyes faded. Her smile became sad. Her demeanor more severe. She was happy to work with him, he could tell. But every time she had a new appearance scheduled with “him”, he could feel her apprehension and reluctancy weeks before the D-day.

He tried to negotiate with the guy in a fancy suit. Maybe what she did was enough already. Maybe it could stop now. They could skip the second step and launch the final one. The happy one. But he “knew his job”, and he had to “trust him.” So David threw himself in the second step. He picked a girl. Young but not really, smart but not really, sweet but not really. The kind of girl everyone expected him to be with, according to fancy-suit.
Oddly, it made Gillian laugh to see whom they had chosen for him. She seemed to have found a second breath. Maybe it’s because they shared the attention now. “Where’s your girlfriend?” she used to tease him. She bought him Viagra once, and they laughed heartedly for an hour.

But soon, it’ll be his turn to play his part more seriously. It’ll be her turn to rely on trust. To live without watching, reading, listening. Soon, they won’t live in their own bubble anymore. There won’t be no apartment where they can hold each other at night, no trailer where they can have a few minutes break just the two of them, no private places where they can talk through all of this. He hopes with all his heart they can make it to the final step but he’s afraid of what will be left of them and how long it’ll take to rebuild the new shape of their relationship.
“It’s gonna be easy,” he lies in her ear as she falls asleep in his arms.

Write something! Tell us what Gillovny is up to right now!

She swallows the two pills of aspirin she needs to feel less pain in her foot before she leaves her hotel room and arduously hops in the cab waiting for her. He might be highly stressed out at the moment. Hosting a show is a new experience for him, and The Beatles aren’t really what he’s used to sing, even less when the audience isn’t full of his fans. But he keeps challenging himself, and she loves to witness that. She just hopes he won’t take her surprise the wrong way.

She thought about telling him she’d come, knowing he really needed to have everything under control for this event, but she finally opted for a surprise. He has told her a few weeks ago he’d sing “(Just Like) Starting Over” for her, little he knew she was planning on a duet. For days, she woke up with the lyrics in her mind:

Our life together is so precious together,
We have grown – we have grown,
Although our love is still special,
Let’s take our chance and fly away somewhere alone,

And kept them spinning in her head until bedtime

Why don’t we take off alone,
Take a trip somewhere far, far away,
We’ll be together all alone again,
Like we used to in the early days,
Well, well, darling,

What better occasion than a tribute to John Lennon to celebrate their love for each other, their freedom to be together and to show the world the peace they’ve finally achieved in their complicated relationship?

It’ll be just like starting over – starting over…

Hello JHH! Could you please write a rpf with Gillian being high on painkillers and David being her nurse? 😘

Okay but this is going to be a total nonsense! (And thank you so much to @sembell for the beta and to @becksndot5 for reading this nonsense first)

“You smell funny,” she says, sniffing around his face interrogatively as he starts to fix the bandage around her swollen foot.

“Nice.” he deadpans with a grin on his face. “How about you stop moving, so I can do that correctly?”

He has never been good with his hands, and he isn’t fond of seeing blood, open wounds or swollen joints, but as soon as he heard her cracky voice over the phone, he couldn’t resist and bought a plane ticket for London. She could use some help with the boys and everyday tasks. And he could take care of her just like she took care of him a few years ago, when he ended up in the hospital almost blind after a basketball game.

“You sound funny too.” she says, squinting her eyes as if to have a better look at him.

When he arrived, he hadn’t expected the painkillers she had to take to make her high enough to think that he was Mulder in person, nor to call him Mulder for the entire first day.

“Okay, honey. Just lay down, and…”

“As if you were far far away but also very close.” she continues. “Why are you so far away, David?” she furrows her brows in concern and all of a sudden, tears start to fall down her cheeks, her mouth distorted with pain and sorrow.

“Hey, hey! Babe! I’m right here, okay? I’m here!” He waves at her, making her smile. “See? It’s me. I’m not far away. I’m with you. So now, lay down, and…”

“Did you cut your hair?” she interrupts him again, her sweet smile fading.

“Yes. Yes, I cut my hair. Let me guess: I look funny, right?” he chuckles, and finally manages to continue wrapping up her ankle.

“No! I loved your hair! Why did you cut your hair?” she begins to cry again. “Can you put it back? Please, David!”

“Gillian,” he sighs. He starts to wonder if adding up a sleeping pill to her painkiller would be okay. Probably not, but he’s not getting any younger, and he feels like having a whining baby on drugs around him. It’s ten times worse than the day they took mushrooms together and she insisted to get out of his trailer and wander in the forest at night. Naked, of course. He’s certainly not going to survive fifteen days with a high and incoherent Gillian. He needs to come up with a plan. “No, Gillian, I can’t put it back. But it’ll grow again soon, don’t worry.”

“When? Tomorrow?”

“Yes. What? No! Not tomorrow!” Her mouth distorts again, and she’s about to burst into tears. “Yes! Yes! Tomorrow! My hair will be back tomorrow. In one beddy-bye.”

Did he just say “beddy-bye” to the woman he loves? he wonders. Oh god! Okay, she needs to stop talking, and he needs to finish her bandage and let her sleep. She’ll probably feel better after a beddy… after a nap.

“Here.” he says as he holds his phone to her. “West showed me this app. It’s funny, you’re gonna like it. You take a picture of me, and you can change my haircut. Do you want to try it?”

She nods with a smile and finally falls silent for a few minutes, allowing him to finish her bandage properly. All he needed was to occupy her mind with something else. Now he’s going to make dinner while she sleeps a little bit, and after a few hours, she’ll be back to her old self and they’ll enjoy a calm and snuggly evening watching a silly British TV show. He wonders if they have Dancing With the Stars here too.

“I’m finished, clumsy beauty.” he says, proudly. “Did you find me a good haircut?”

“Yes, I like you in red, but people say you look better with blond hair.”

“People? What people?”

“People on Twitter.”

Reconnection

Gillovny RPF

Thank you so so much to @sembell for her excellent beta-reading! I love you!

(Slightly NSFW)

How did the time pass so quickly, she wonders. It feels like he crossed the door three seconds ago, but here they are, at four in the morning, in the massive garden of her rental house, surrounded by the noises of the nature, monkeys hiding in the trees, invisible insects singing in their ears and probably one snake or two crawling nearby.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve seen each other. In other circumstances, they would be in bed already, trying to shush each other not to wake up all the children sleeping everywhere in the house. Maybe they’re getting old, she thinks. He has invited her to have a last drink outside, after dinner, after the boys went to bed, and the older ones went out. He wanted to enjoy the silence, just with her, for a couple of minutes before they “reconnected”. That’s the way they call their endless love making after a long period of separation.

But the couple of minutes became an hour, the hour turned into three, and the last drink turned into the whole bottle of Costa Rica red wine. She doesn’t drink, except when she’s at ease with someone she trusts more than herself, which means no one but him. Two glasses are usually enough to get her tipsy, so he happily drank the rest of the bottle. Finally, after six years of a complicated but beautiful relationship, they’ve found another way to “reconnect”.

She tells him about her difficulties with her boys. They’re getting older, tiny little men, as he likes to call them. They demand more independence but they’re still her babies, and it’s tough for her to find her place in their lives. He tells her about West, his struggles between allowing her to make her own mistakes and preventing her from the dangers all teenagers her age are confronted with. He told her he wished her daughter would have come with him. She reassures him. She knows what it’s like to raise a girl. She knows there’s a complicated phase, but it’s just a phase. It passes.

As the discussion goes, time passes. Piper and her friends come back and go straight to bed, avoiding the judgmental look Gillian would have given them if they stood too close to her, smelling their breath or seeing their eyes.

The moon is bright and high in the sky, and it’s so late that even the animals around them have gone silent.

It’s time to get up and go to bed, she thinks. Time for the old fashion way of reconnecting. But her head spins and his back hurts after sitting for such a long time. They’re indeed getting old.

As soon as she lays down, her eyes close and sleep invades her. She doesn’t need more anyway. She feels warm and safe knowing he’s just here besides her. Smelling his scent and hearing him breathing is enough for tonight. She feels his large arm enveloping her waist, a soft kiss being dropped on her bare shoulder, and a muffled “I love you” is whispered into her ear. She’s falling asleep.

Is someone knocking at the door? Is it for real, or only in her dream? Why is he moving? She felt so good with her body pressed against his and her nose buried into his neck. Who is he talking to? She can’t proceed right now. What time is it anyway? 6? 9? Noon? Whoever you are, go away, close the door behind you and let me lay on top of him for the rest of my life, she thinks. Maybe they hear her. The door closes. “Go back to sleep, bird” she hears him say. That she can do.

He’s moving again. It’s sunny outside, she can feel it through her eyelid. The nature has woken up, and so does he, apparently. His lips trace the soft line of her neck to her collarbone and his large hands roam along the side of her thighs. She keeps her eyes closed, she doesn’t want to wake up yet. She fears if she moves he’ll stop, and she doesn’t want him to stop. He licks her stomach, just under her pierced navel, making her shiver. The kiss he drops on her center, over the lace of her panties, was unexpected and deeply appreciated, making her jump a little and finally, she opens her eyes.

His hair is messy, sticking out in every direction and the soft beard he grew during the night makes him look younger. Sexier. She helps him removing her underwear, lifting her butt from the mattress with a smirk and her eyes lock with his.

“What time is it?” she suddenly worries.

“They’re all gone to the beach, we’re alone.” he doesn’t answer her question and bites the insides of her thighs.

She doesn’t regret they didn’t do that last night. They would have had to be silent and careful when the only thing she wants is to lose herself in his mouth. She hadn’t known her back could contort itself like that before. Only the back of her head and the flat of her feet are in contact with the mattress. Her whole body levitates with pleasure as he devours her, swallowing every drop of her femininity. He raises on his knees between her thighs. He couldn’t be more handsome than this morning, lit by the rays of sunshine piercing through the shutters, naked and hard in every sense. His thick cock stands strong, pulsing and twitching as her eyes rove over it, and she bites her lower lip in anticipation and desire. He slides between her lips, presses against her oversensitive clit, and effortlessly slips inside her. She watches him moving, his muscles are contracted in ridges and his jaw is clenched. He’s already holding back, she can tell. He’s beautiful. She feels him inside her, but she wants to feel him all around her. She wants his heaviness above her, she needs his mouth, his tongue, his neck. She wants her hands on his skin, and his on hers. She pulls on his arms to drag him closer, and he speeds up once his face is buried in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. The friction of his groin on her clit sends her in heaven. No doubt she would have woken up everyone with the loud scream that now escapes her throat as she comes all around him, soon followed by his deep grunt and her “fucking Christ” chuckled against his cheek as he pulls out.

She kisses him just like she breathes. Without thinking about it, but needing it to survive. Her tongue melts with his, and her fingers caress the skin of his ribs.

“You okay?” he asks, probably tasting the tears that are running down her cheeks to die in their kisses.

“Yes,” she lies. “I’m sorry.”

He asks what’s happening without a word, just by raising her chin with his index finger and a piercing gaze.

“I missed you,”, she whispers, and the tears run faster. She hadn’t wanted that to happen. She has promised herself to hold back, at least for a few days before breaking down. But the shock of her strong orgasm has hit a nerve and her brain has shut down to allow her emotions, her hormones and her heart, to take the wheel. It’s never a good thing.

“I’m just tired missing you,” she sobs against his chest.

He tells her he knows, he tells her he misses her too. He holds her tight and reassures her as much as he can, but something breaks inside her when he says “soon”.

“Two more years. We can make it.”

Maybe he can, but she can’t. She doesn’t even want to. Spending two more years missing him, two more years of painful goodbyes and weeks of loneliness. Two more years of long-distance fights and desperate night calls.

She agrees anyway. It’s the beginning of the vacation, she can’t ruin it on the first day. She can’t do that to him. To them. But she knows, deep down, it could be their last one if they don’t come up with a better plan for their future.

She’s lost in her thoughts. She hasn’t noticed that he’s fumbling behind her back,making a racket with the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” she asks, wiping the tears from her eyes and shifts onto her back underneath him.

He doesn’t answer, but has finally found what he was looking for.

“Got it!” he exclaims with a shy smile on his face. Without more words puts a tiny, black velvet box on her naked stomach.

Never again

Gillovny Ficlet

(NSFW)

The sun bathing his skin and her soft lips around his hard member feel like heaven. There’s nothing like a comfortable lounger on the poolside and losing yourself in the woman of your life’s mouth. The way she opens her eyes and her look pierces through his tinted glasses to reach his gaze when she almost lands at his base drives him crazy. That and the yummy sound escaping her throat and echoing on every fiber of his cock. Somehow, he has always considered this act as one of the biggest proofs of his love. It has been misinterpreted by some in the past, but never with her. He thinks there’s something sacred in a blowjob. He completely abandons himself to her and he allows her to take control, to overpower him. She could hurt him right now. She could severely injure him if she wanted to. She could also release him from this sweet torture any time she wants. She knows where to lick, how hard to suck, when to take him deep and how much time to spend on this spot, at the back of his tip, before he loses it. The most precious part of his body is all hers. He has confided his dick with her lips and his balls to her hand. How this could not be taken as a proof of love?

Oddly, it’s not her tongue swirling on his tip nor her middle finger pressing harder and harder against his ass hole that send him on the edge right now. After all, orgasms could be mostly cerebral, he thinks, because the friction of her hard nipple against his thigh and the sight of her hips raising and lowering as she rubs her sex against his shin eclipses everything else. He can even feel her wetness through the hairs of his leg and wishes he was flexible enough to reach her ass. He wishes he was mentally strong enough to make her stop and turn things around. But his body feels so heavy and weak at the same time. He belongs to her right now, she’s the one who decides when this will be over and how it’ll end.

He hopes it’ll never end.

“I’m done. Can I go now?” she asks with her fingers tightly wrapped around his base and her lips softly caressing the pulsing vein of his cock on every syllable.

He barely heard, his mind is dizzy and his ears are buzzing. He must have misunderstood. Where would she go, and why would she go now anyway? She likes to torture him sometimes, but not like that. Not while still holding him and not when she’s soaking wet on his leg. Now that she’s stopped her exquisite motions, he feels his strengths coming back. Maybe he’s strong enough to lift her and put her on her knees. Hopefully, he’ll be strong enough to stand on his feet behind her.

“Can I go, mister Duchovny?” She uses the sexiest voice she can as he was trying to raise. It still doesn’t make sense, he thinks.

Or maybe it does. She always has to go, it’s crazy. Why would this amazing blowjob be different from their relationship itself? One day she’s here and they’re happy, and the second after she’s on the other side of the world and he’s unable to do anything besides missing her for days. “Yes, go, leave me again! You’re so good at it!” he wants to scream, but his voice remains trapped in his throat and it seems like she’s gone already. He can’t feel her mouth anymore. Her beautiful blue eyes have vanished, such as the sensation of her blond curl brushing the inside of his thighs. What he does feel is the dark hole in his heart, aching and silently screaming for her to come back. In vain.

“Mister Duchov…” A scream of disgust follows his last name and the sight of the back of the cleaning lady rushing towards the house and throwing her apron inside the pool is the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes, finally out of his reverie. After a few seconds of incomprehension, he realizes that his hand inside his tented board shorts is probably the reason of the lady’s anger and disgust. He’ll have a hard time explaining that later…

He puts his glasses on the side of the chair and stands up to jump inside the pool in a gracious diving. He needs to cool both his body and mind after what just happened. Hopefully, after tonight, this kind of dreams won’t end in nightmares of loneliness and abandon anymore. Hopefully, tonight, after her car has crossed his portal for the first time in three months and she has seen the red carpet leading to his door where he’ll be standing in an over-expensive suit, after she walked towards him pretending to not understand what’s happening, after he kneels before her, takes her hand in his, and asks her the same question he had asked her twenty years ago, hopefully she will not go anywhere. Never.