Disclaimer: I don't own the X Files or any of these characters.
This idea came from a tumblr prompt: "You're a pitiful mess and I hate that about you."
Young Fox Mulder's childhood had been relatively happy until the abduction of his sister. Like most families there was a lot bubbling beneath the surface but for the most part he didn't notice his parents quiet resentment of each other or his father's odd friends who would his mother was uncomfortable around. After his sister disappeared all of it came to a front. His father began drinking, his mother became addicted to pills, and no one was left to care for Fox.
The day his mother finally left happened to coincide with his 15th birthday. Of course neither of his parents remembered until the day after when his mother hurried back over to the house to take him out to apologize and his father patted him on the back and offered him a sip of his bourbon. Fox declined, he didn't want to be like his father.
"Fox do you want to live with me or your father?" His mother asked him in the car as they were driving back to his childhood home where his most likely drunk father was waiting.
Fox looked down at his hands, "I don't know. Why can't you just stay? I don't want to move."
All the memories of his sister were there. He suspected that may be part of the reason his mother wanted to leave.
"Well you can stay with your father if you would like." Her tone indicated that she would not like that but Fox wondered why she cared now when she never did before.
He propped his arm against the window and stared out at the grey October sky silently.
They didn't talk until they got back to the house. His mother turned off the engine and looked at him.
She took his hand, "Fox we love you. Nothing that has happened is your fault." She didn't seem to even fully buy into what she was saying but she continued, "You're father and I just don't get along anymore, that happens sometimes in a marriage."
Fox wondered if all divorcing parents had a script that they went by. He still looked out the window and refused to respond.
"Fox?" She squeezed his hand a little and for a moment the sound of her voice almost made him feel bad but then he remembered the forgotten birthday and subsequent abandonment.
"I hate that name. Everyone thinks it's stupid. Call me Mulder from now on." He pulled his hand free and began to open the car door, "I don't care where I live. It's all the same anyway."
After a beat his mother followed him without words.
He opened the door to walk in but his mother paused as if she wondered if she should knock. Mulder rolled his eyes and gestured for her to go in.
"Oh well look who's back! I thought maybe you decided to take our only remaining child and run but here you are. Come crawling back." His father had two modes when he was drunk: quiet and angry. This was angry.
Mulder's mother was stoic, "Bill this is beneath you. I was just bringing Fox," Mulder shot her a look but she ignored him, "home. It was his birthday yesterday in case you forgot."
Mulder now was irritated because his mother had also, obviously forgotten his birthday.
"I know damn well yesterday was his birthday, I forgot in the midst of all of your shit. You seemed to have forgotten too. You were too busy thinking only of yourself as usual."
He was slurring which was unusual. His father could always hold his drink and Mulder wondered how much he'd drunken to get this drunk.
His mother let out a bitter laugh, "You're a pitiful mess and I hate that about you. Among many other things. Bill you need to grow up. Things have never truly been good between us it's time for you to accept that it is over."
"You want to talk like this in front of the boy." His father motioned over at Mulder who was watching with a well-practiced face that looked indifferent. Inside he was screaming for them to stop.
His mother turned to look at him as if just remembering he was in the room. She turned her back to Mulder's father and looked him in the eyes, "Fox-" He narrowed his eyes, "Mulder, do you want to come with me? I'm staying with your aunt Martha right now there is plenty of room."
Mulder just shook his head and stomped up stairs to his room where he threw himself on the bed. He covered his head with his pillow to drown out the screaming that continued downstairs.
He'd known from a young age that his parents were not like those couples in movies, books, and TV. They were not really in love but knew that, at one time, they had been in love. Mulder had still believed in love but as the muffled sounds of the fight reached him he wondered if two people could ever truly care for each other.
Something light hit his head and brought him to the present. He opened his eyes to see the playful face of the woman who had started him on this train of thought. Dana Scully, the woman who for the past few years had seemed to fill all of his thoughts. He didn't dare share his feelings with her and ruin what they had.
He already knew he loved her despite his best efforts to keep her at bay. She'd wormed her way in with her brilliant mind and sweet smile. Mulder had been watching her do her work across from him when he thought of the day after his 15th birthday. He remembered that as the day he knew he would not ever pledge his life to someone else. He would never give himself fully over to another because he didn't want his heart to be broken.
The only problem was that as he looked at her he desperately wanted to kiss her and he knew if he kissed her he'd make love to her and if he made love to her he would probably propose right away. He was in love with her and it was ruining his plan for a solitary life.
Mulder looked down to see what had hit him in the head and saw a crumpled piece of paper in his lap. He looked up for a moment to see her pretending to read with a conspiratorial smile on her face.
He unwrinkled the paper and saw it had handwriting on it.
Mulder, ask me to dinner.
Ever since her tumor disappeared she'd been much more open about her own feelings. She flirted a bit more openly so while seeing the note wasn't a complete surprise he found he couldn't move or speak.
He could feel her eyes on him and he knew that every second he waited she would doubt herself. Mulder screamed at his mouth to work but it refused. On a loop in his mind was his mother yelling about how much she hated his father. He pictured Scully yelling these words at him and almost threw away the paper.
But when he looked up and saw her nervous eyes dart away he couldn't do it.
"Hey Scully, wanna grab some dinner?"