Disclaimer: Not mine
Spoilers: None
A/N: No real point, no real plot, just me being a goober.
"Hey Mulder, if I decide to take out my gun and shoot myself, do you want me to get you too?"
"Yeah, but don't get my face, 'cuz I want to go out still looking good."
"I might have to get you in the face then."
"Hey, if you can manage to get both of us in one shot, I'll give it to you."
"And what shall we write in our suicide notes?"
"Reports for Skinner killed us, we just held the gun."
"Yeah, I think that answers all the questions. We might want to add a 'don't dance on our graves' clause."
"I thought we were going to be cremated and have our ashes mixed together and spread in a Ford Taurus."
"I was tired when I said that. Although it would be an accurate portrayal of our lives."
"Bingo."
She chuckled and rolled her neck until it cracked and Mulder grimaced.
"Ug, don't do that, Jiffy Pop."
"Does it freak you out?" she asked, her fingers poised to crack.
"It sounds like a dog chewing on a chicken bone."
"Well that's gross."
"My point exactly," he said, standing up from the couch.
"Hey, where do you think you're going? We still have oodles of paper work to do before Monday morning, which is in about 30 hours."
"Don't get your thong in a twist, I just have to pee."
"Aim well."
He rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom while she stretched out on her stomach across the couch. It was two in the morning, they had been working on this stuff for sixteen hours and there was no end in sight. Of course if they actually started working that would be one thing, but they had been having too much fun picking on each other and making paper airplanes and really doing a lot of childish things that resulted in almost no paperwork being done. She was hungry and wanted to go to bed, but couldn't justify it right now. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, she pulled a piece of paper off of the coffee table, squinting at it to try and figure out what it was. Her glasses had long since been misplaced, and she wasn't going to put her contacts in again for this. Disgustedly, she put the paper back on top of the pile as the bathroom door swung open and Mulder walked out. He perched on the edge of the couch and leaned back, his body pressing into her legs.
"I'm hungry," she said with a short sigh.
"Yeah," he agreed.
"You should make me some brownies."
"Want me to wear an apron too?" he asked, chuckling as he reached over to lazily scratch her back.
"If you don't mind."
He chuckled and continued to run his hand up and down her back, soothing both of them and making them forget about the massive amounts of paperwork that were sitting there. She sighed again, knowing she needed to get up, but refusing to listen to her logical side.
"You have a knot right here," he said after a while, rubbing a sore spot near her shoulder.
"I know. I named it Mulder."
"How fitting and creepy."
She chuckled against the couch cushions as his fingers when to work on the knot.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry."
She sucked in a breath and his fingers began more gentle movements.
"So what's going on with you?" he asked after a moment.
"What do you mean?"
"You've been… quiet lately."
"In what way?"
"The way in which you haven't been talking much."
"I hadn't noticed."
"You're stuck in your head, aren't you?"
"Maybe a little, lately."
"How come?"
"I'm not really sure."
"You carry a lot, Scully. You need to let go sometimes."
"I know. And I do, but it's hard to go on without picking it back up again."
"Your pain is your security blanket."
"Analyze that."
"Can't. I'd be analyzing myself too."
She gave him a wry smile and rolled onto her side.
"We're a case."
"We're a file."
"You're a dork."
"You like it."
"I try," she said with a yawn. "I'm tired."
"Me too. What do you say to a couple hours of sleep?"
"Usually I say "Hello you beautiful thing, you.""
"Wow."
She shrugged and sat up, raking her hands through her hair.
"I'm going to bed. You gonna crash out here?"
"Where else do you suggest I crash?"
"I thought you might try to go home. I was going to talk you out of it."
"Nah, I'll stay here."
She stood up from the couch and stretched.
"Night, Mulder."
"Night."
"Scully, your mom's on the phone," Mulder said, flopping down on the bed next to her.
"Why is she calling at this ungodly hour? Why are you answering my phone? Where is your shirt?"
"It's not an ungodly hour, the phone was ringing, and I got hot in the night. You going to take the phone or are you just going to let her listen to this conversation?"
"You didn't put your hand over it? Were you born in a barn?"
"Yes, and it would be nice if you would quit bringing it up."
"You know, I-"
"The phone?"
She rubbed her eyes and grabbed for it, grimacing when Mulder stole one of her pillows and closed his eyes.
"Hi mom."
"So, how's life?" Maggie asked pointedly.
"He slept on the couch, buttinski. What do you want?"
"You're cranky."
"Yep."
"Will you be too cranky to meet me for lunch?"
"I might be. We've got a huge stack of paperwork to do."
"What if I brought you some lunch?"
"Mom, you have no idea how nice that would be. Really. I might kiss your feet."
"I think you need a little more sleep."
"I probably do. And I will try to get some once I kick Mulder outta my bed."
"Thanks for that mental image right before I leave for church."
"He's drooling. How do I get him off my pillow?"
"Not my problem, child. I'll see you around noon."
They hung up and Scully rolled over, poking Mulder in the arm.
"You need to get out of my bed."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"Well I say that I need to stay in your bed."
"Why?"
"Cuz."
"Mulder," she whined.
"What? It's not like I'm even in your space at all."
"You're in my bed and you're shirtless and you're a boy. Ew."
"Ew?"
"Yes. Now get out."
"Let me stay for an hour and I'll make you breakfast."
"An hour? What time is it?"
"Seven."
"Okay fine, but don't steal my blankets or I'll cut your ties in half."
"Deal."
She rolled over and settled in, hoping to get a little more sleep, but soon felt him scooting up behind her, his arms coming into tight contact with her waist. She didn't move but to raise an eyebrow in his direction.
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure I don't steal your blankets."
"Whatever," she sighed as his thumb moved across her stomach. He touched her every chance he got, and the chances were getting more frequent lately. Maybe it was because she didn't shy away anymore. Maybe it was because her fondness for it wasn't a secret. Or maybe it was just because.
He was sleepily nuzzling her neck now, and she grabbed his hand to try and distract him from the nuzzling, which was very distracting in itself. She liked the contact, but sometimes it made everything else a little hazy, and she didn't really want to have to deal with the repercussions of that. He seemed to get her point though, and pressed a kiss behind her ear before settling and just simply holding her. Holding was fine. She could live with the holding. She could live with that and nothing else for probably the rest of her life.
She blinked twice, now fully awake.
His thumb was still rubbing over her t-shirt clad stomach, the fabric riding up just a little more with every pass. She stilled the motion and traced faint lines over his hands and wrists, the sensation and the motions calming her heart. He pulled her closer and she suddenly had the urge to roll over and bury herself in him. It was the incoherent thought of a very tired woman and in the back of her mind she knew that, but she didn't try to make sense of it.
"Mulder," she whispered slowly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"Yeah?"
"Am I safe?"
"You're safe," he answered, the words sending a shiver down her spine. "I have you. Go to sleep."
She woke up a while later, still feeling very secure. Upon further investigation, she found that it was not Mulder holding her so tightly, as she could hear him in the kitchen. It was in fact, her blankets, which had been wrapped around her much like a straight jacket.
"Mulder, what the heck?" she shouted, rolling around to try and loosen the downy grip.
"It's a blanket burrito," he called back as if that were the most common explanation in the world.
"Yes, but why?" she questioned, finally managing to break free.
"You felt safe," he replied, and she could almost see him shrugging. "I wanted to keep you that way."
She grinned and made her way into the kitchen, almost tackling him with a hug.
"You escaped!"
"Yep. Thanks, Mulder."
"Welcome."
"Hey, your shirt's back."
"Yeah, I didn't want to get burned from flying bacon grease."
"Smart. Man, when you said breakfast, you weren't kidding. Did I really have all this stuff in here?"
"Yeah."
"Fancy. Do I have time for a shower?"
"If you're quick."
"I'll be right back."
He grinned as he watched her go, then turned to the stove to finish the food. He had to admit, waking up here was nice. Waking up later with her in his arms, sleeping soundly with a smile on her face was the only grace he had ever really wanted in life. He'd wanted to stay there forever, but he had promised her breakfast, so he'd tightened the blankets around her and gotten up. She'd made a face of protest and sighed at the movement, but a kiss to her forehead had put her back to sleep. He loved their silly banter and their quiet moments and held them closer to his heart than almost anything else. Most people around them saw their relationship as romantic, and he didn't bother trying to correct them anymore. It wasn't that they weren't attracted to each other as much as it was that they were content with how things were right now. Sure, there were time when they both wanted more, but those times were fleeting and not enough to act on. Both of them were certain that it would happen someday, and there was no reason to rush it.
He heard the water go off and a few minutes later she appeared, her hair still wet and slightly curly. They sat down at the table, pushing aside the files that had been sitting there for at least three weeks.
"You know Mulder, we really have to knuckle down and get stuff done today."
"I know. I think once we get into it, there's not going to be as much as we think, but I'm worried about how late we're going to be up."
"Probably not going to get the nap I wanted today."
"Doubt it," he said around a mouthful of pancake.
"Mulder, how come you never told me you could cook?"
"Because if I said that I could cook you would stop cooking for me, and then I would never see you in an apron again."
"Not sure what to say to that."
"Just sit there and look pretty."
"Done."
The paperwork was finished, stapled, collated, three hole punched and organized nicely into manila folders. The printer had overheated but was recovering nicely. There were broken pencils and a few dried up pens near the garbage can. Mulder and Scully sat on the couch, their hair matted to their heads from too many stressed out fingers running though it, their clothes disheveled and their eyes burning.
"Well," Scully started with a sigh.
"Well what?" Mulder asked after a long pause.
"What?"
"You said well and then… what?"
"I don't know."
"I think we need sleep."
"Yeah. Going home?"
"Yeah, I should. I need work clothes tomorrow."
"Mm'kay."
"I'll see you in the morning. I'll make sure to have a cot of poffee waiting."
"A who?"
"Pot of coffee. You knew what I meant."
"Yeah, I suppose."
He stood up from the couch and pulled the blanket down over her.
"G'night Mulder."
"Hey Scully?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for being my best friend."
"Right back at you."
"Love you."
"Love you more."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek then walked to the door. He wanted to stay there and curl up with her again, but no matter how close they were, even they needed their time apart. No matter now. He'd see her again in the morning. With a cot of poffee.