(Comfort) Food for Thought
Mulder didn't know how he had reached his basement office so fast. He had paid no attention whatsoever to anything around him since Skinner briefed him on the new case and informed him that Scully wouldn't come to work today because she wasn't feeling well.
There were too many questions in his head at the moment and all of them wanted his attention at the same time. It was not like Scully to miss work because she was sick, so he couldn't help worrying that it might be something serious. But if it was something serious, why hadn't she called him? According to Skinner, Scully had been at the office pretty early this morning, and that was when she told him that she wasn't feeling well and if he would please tell Mulder not to worry. It was almost as if she still didn't know him at all after all these years and after…
Mulder bit his lower lip as the thought made its way into his head. She was avoiding him, that was what was happening. He couldn't help feeling hurt by that obvious conclusion and suddenly his concern about her being sick became a mix of feelings he couldn't quite describe. Had he hurt her in anyway? Did she regret it? She really wouldn't just decide to go home if it wasn't something serious. He had a feeling that the same sentence had crossed his mind just a few minutes ago, so he decided to get to work and let his brain work on all his confusion in the background. Maybe later he would be feeling well enough to call her and see if she was okay.
Xxx
It was past six already when Mulder parked in front of Scully's building. His decision to not call her but come see how she was doing in person was made on a whim, and now he was starting to think it had been a very bad idea. He sighed for about three seconds before opening the car door and getting out. He didn't know why he was nervous, but he was.
Their relationship had been slowly growing into something new, something kind of magical, something he had never experienced with anyone before. He couldn't tell the exact moment he fell in love with her, but he knew that it came to a point where he couldn't just deny it anymore. He had tried to kiss her once and was stopped by a bee (he chuckled as he went up the last step that led to the second floor. He hadn't realized he had taken the stairs instead of the elevator); then he told her he loved her a year later, but she thought he was delusional and didn't believe him (or maybe she did and was afraid to believe him); and then there was that day when everything just made perfect sense and he just gravitated towards her, feeling her pull him into her orbit even if all she was doing was watch people celebrating the turn of the millennium through an old TV in a hospital hallway. He could still remember the taste of her lips on his, how she didn't pull away, how such a quick peck on the lips seemed to have awakened something in her, something that started to lead them towards what had happened last night. They had taken a big step in their relationship last night, a huge leap of faith, if you will. He thought everything was great, until he woke up in the morning and she wasn't there. For a moment he thought it had been a dream, but her smell was still in the air and the mark of her teeth on his shoulder was also still there.
Someone cleared their throat, making him wake up from his trance. It was Scully's neighbor, an old lady who he often saw and who always looked at him suspiciously. He couldn't blame her for being suspicious now, for he was just standing in front of Scully's door with no memory of how he had gotten there, and, by the woman's look, it seemed he had been there for a while.
What have you done to me, Scully?
To disguise his awkwardness, he raised his hand and knocked on Scully's door three times. He saw as the old lady entered her house and glared at him one last time, as if saying, "I'm watching you. Don't mess with her."
He felt some kind of relief when he heard Scully's voice from somewhere inside her apartment.
"I'm coming, Mulder. Just a second."
Some seconds later, the door opened to show a disheveled-haired, sick Scully.
"Wow, Scully, you look terrible!"
"Thanks, Mulder. That's probably the best thing a guy has ever told me."
She smiled in spite of herself and he couldn't help smiling also.
She let him close the door and walked to her couch, where, he assumed, she had been lying for the past couple of hours.
"How did you know it was me at the door?"
"You always knock three times."
She answered absentmindedly.
He smiled because he never thought she noticed things like this. He surely paid attention to her every mannerism, but for some reason he never thought she did the same. For some reason he never thought she felt the same way he did.
He watched as Scully practically threw herself on the couch lazily, as if she was just tired of everything and didn't know what to do with herself.
"Have you eaten at all?"
She shook her head.
"I was walking towards the kitchen to make something for dinner, but the couch was so inviting I had no choice but lie here and wait for a miracle to happen and for food to magically appear in front of me."
"Well, I might just be the solution to all your problems."
She chuckled.
"Oh, really?"
His heart flip flopped inside his chest with the sound of that chuckle, and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.
He shrugged, trying to disguise his feelings.
"It so happens that I know how to make the best sick soup, also known as the best comfort food of all time."
She chuckled once again, and he noticed she was struggling to keep her eyes open, but she looked surprised with this new information.
"Since when do you cook, Mulder?"
"How do you think I survived all these years by myself, Scully?"
"I guess I always thought you lived off cold pizza and hot beer. Or the other way around, which sounds more plausible."
He chuckled and squeezed her shoulder lightly.
"So, can I use your kitchen?"
She just nodded, smiling contently, and he found it amusing that she didn't protest. Sick Scully tended to be more open to the possibility that she needed help sometimes.
It didn't take him long to cook his special sick soup, as he liked to call it, especially because Scully had the perfect ingredients for it and he didn't have to improvise.
When he came back to the living room, Scully was napping, her head resting on the back of the couch, her mouth slightly open, a strand of hair falling over her face. He couldn't help smiling as he watched her like this, peaceful in spite of everything, and he realized that seeing her like this brought back memories from when they started working together, of endless nights of stakeouts when she would sleep just like that and he would try to shake the thought that she was cute away from his mind. He didn't fight these thoughts anymore.
He tucked the strand of hair behind her ear and brushed her cheek slightly.
"Hey," he whispered, "dinner is ready."
She woke up all of a sudden, a little confused for a second, but then she looked at his hands and saw the bowl of soup in there and her face brightened up.
"What would I do without you?"
He smiled sheepishly and looked away, because he was sure his heart was going to fall out of his mouth any moment now if he kept looking at her. Mulder from 10 years ago would probably be laughing at his face if he could see him now, especially because he felt his cheeks were hot as hell, so he was sure he was blushing.
He handed her the soup and sat beside her, hoping she hadn't caught his moment of awkwardness, and watched silently as she ate.
She closed her eyes a few times while she swallowed, and he chuckled softly. She looked at him again.
"What?"
He paused for a moment, considering if he should tell her what was on his mind. As she showed no signs she was going to continue eating if he didn't tell her, he decided to just spit it out and see what happened.
"For a moment today – no, for a few hours today - I thought you weren't really sick, that you were just trying to avoid me."
He thought she was going to look surprised, but he knew that she knew what he meant.
She took another spoonful of soup before replying, her expression never betraying her.
"I really don't know where this cold came from. I was perfectly fine in one moment and the next I just felt like I needed to sleep for ten days straight. Just seconds later, Skinner showed up and I decided that I needed to come home and leave all the work to you."
She half smiled and then sighed, eating another spoonful of her soup right after.
Avoiding the subject then, huh? He couldn't help wondering, though, if he had misheard it or if she had emphasized the word "perfectly" on purpose. This was interesting and confusing.
"You know, maybe I'm the one to blame."
Scully raised her eyebrows in that way that told him she was about to reprimand him for always thinking everything was his fault, but he continued before she could say anything.
"I mean, I was feeling a little weird when I came back from England, so maybe I could be coming down with a cold and then we…"
He stopped right there because he knew she understood what he meant. He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to know why she had left in the middle of the night, he wanted to know what that meant from now on, but he wouldn't push her to say anything she didn't want to. Maybe his gut feeling was right, maybe she regretted the whole thing.
Scully tried to suppress a smirk, swallowing her food in a way that seemed to take more effort than usual.
"Yeah, maybe…" she said in a low voice, and he could see that she was watching her soup in hopes that it would magically tell her what to say next. "But if that is the case, then you would also be sick now. And quite honestly, it is very unfair that you aren't."
She chuckled again and maybe it was because he was lost in her smile, but he didn't see how the bowl was suddenly not in her hands anymore and how she had suddenly come so close, so close he could feel her breath on his face.
"Are you trying to make me sick, Scully?"
"I can try, can't I?"
"Or maybe I can try to make you feel better, you know, since I might be responsible for this…"
"You're already helping with the soup, which is delicious, by the way."
He shrugged.
"But maybe I can do more…"
He raised his hand to her cheek and traced a circle in there. She only watched him, but her eyes were suddenly a darker shade of blue. He cupped her face and his lips made their way to her forehead, making brief contact there to then kiss the space between her eyebrows, then the length of her nose, slowly, stopping right at the tip.
"Does this make you feel better?" he whispered, only then realizing she had closed her eyes and a soft smile was pinned on her lips.
"A little," she whispered back, her voice teasing, trying to show that she was unimpressed.
He smiled as he watched her face between his hands, her red nose showing signs that it also needed this cold to go away, her lips slightly parted so she could breathe a little better, her eyes still close, just waiting to see what he was going to do next.
He lowered one of his hands to her neck and he felt her pulse quicken at the same time he heard her gasp.
"I think I found what makes you feel better," he hummed.
She nodded.
"Maybe you did."
"How about this?"
He touched his lips to her earlobe, then to the beginning of her jaw, then traced a path of very slow and very soft kiss along her jawline until he reached her chin.
She let out the air she had been holding and it came out in almost a moan.
"I thought your job was to try to make me feel better, not torture me."
He chuckled before he captured her lower lip between his teeth, very softly, in that way he had learned just last night that she enjoyed.
He felt her grip on his thigh and he knew it was time to end her misery.
He kissed her lower lip, then her upper lip, and then both of them together. It didn't take long for her to lick his lower lip, as if asking for permission to enter. He welcomed her tongue in his mouth, tasting a little of the soup she had just eaten, marveling at the feeling of having her again, marveling at the relief that his gut feeling was wrong this time.
They had to stop for air quicker than he expected, and he mentally cursed colds for existing.
"I'm still not clear on if you're trying to make me sick or if I'm trying to make you feel better."
"Both, I think."
She chuckled and then shrugged, resting her forehead against his.
"I don't have any reason to avoid you, Mulder. I know you probably figured that out already, but I thought I should make it clear just in case."
"I'm sorry I doubted you."
She just shook her head with a smile. Her way of saying, "It's no big deal".
"Do you want to order pizza or something? You've made me dinner, but you also have to eat."
"I should go and let you rest. I might still have one or two things in my fridge that haven't expired yet."
"Or you could stay and make me more comfort food for breakfast. I promise I won't run away this time."
She touched his cheek softly with an apologetic smile. If she kept doing that, in a matter of seconds his heart would be as liquid as the soup she seemed to love so much.
"Will you reconsider this idea if I told you I can only make soup?"
She laughed this time.
"Soup for breakfast doesn't sound that bad."
He giggled and then she rested her head on his shoulder, succumbing to slumber once again in a couple of minutes. He decided against ordering pizza because Scully was right, after all. He basically lived off cold pizza and hot beer (and occasionally the other way around), so Scully's sick soup sounded like a good idea right now. He couldn't help finding it cute that his comfort food from when he was a child was now Scully's comfort food, too.
He was glad he had been wrong in his morning thoughts, he was glad that they had made it this far, he was even glad for everything that had led them to this very moment, good and bad.
Maybe there really was a reason why all things happened.
He stayed with her like that for a few more moments, until he decided she needed a more comfortable place to be to recover properly.
Before he carried her to bed, he made sure to recite his pancake recipe in his head a few times. Hopefully she would be feeling better in the morning, at least enough to be able to smell the breakfast he intended to prepare for her. He kissed her cheek before he spooned her, and he fell asleep immediately after he felt her relax against his chest.
For the first time in years, he felt he was at home.