Title: A Man Who…: Anxiety of Mr. Coffee and Mulder

Author: DC Luder

Disclaimer: FM, DS, MS, WS belong to them crazy CC and Co. out in LA.

Summary: Scully's POV before her breakfast "date" with Mulder.

X

It took me five minutes to put the filter in the coffee machine. My hands refused to stop trembling. Was I nervous? Upset? Scared? I cursed at myself as I finally got the paper to sit in the machine.

This was Mulder. Your friend. Your best friend.

When I woke at six-thirty, Dave had left for work, and had also left a note on the kitchen counter. He would be late coming home today and he might not make dinner. I was to call him as soon as possible.

Listening to the coffee perk, I sat at the counter and stared out the window. How had everything changed between us? In one night, with one error of judgment, my husband now wouldn't even talk to me. I recalled getting into bed last night and he had already been tucked in and faced the wall. I tried to get him to talk to me but he refused.

Eventually, I got up and went to Will's room and slept with him.

"Mom," a quiet voice came from the stairs.

I turned to see Will, his dark hair twisted and rumpled and his pajamas twisted from sleep. I reached out and touched his forehead. Nice and cool. I watched as he climbed up onto a stool and stared at me.

I stared back.

He stuck out his curled tongue.

I did the same.

He went cross-eyed as well as curling his tongue.

I did the same and wiggled my ears.

He laughed, "No fair, Mom."

I kissed his cheek, "So, what are we going to do with you. It's Saturday, so no school. Dad's at work and I have to go meet someone."

"Not Dad?"

I jumped a bit, "No, an old friend. We're having breakfast."

"Can I come? I won't cough and I'll put my napkin on my lap," his face lit up at the promise of going out. Our family regularly went to Camille's Restaurant on Sunday mornings after church. With the thought of getting blueberry waffles two days in a row, Will was nearly drooling.

"No, I don't think so, honey. We need to talk about grown-up things."

"Like last night?"

I jumped again. Could he have heard us last night? Surely he knew about the screaming when Dave and Mulder were yelling, but when we talked in the bathroom? His door had shut as we talked. Could he have been eavesdropping?

"Will?"

He nodded and began to roll a grape from a fruit basket on the counter, "Yeah?"

"Were you downstairs last night?"

He jerked involuntarily, "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Um, no. Yes."

The look on his face was stunning. He looked exactly like Mulder, suddenly. Caught sneaking around a government compound or looking through a file he was forbidden to.

I sighed, "Well, you wash up. Ten minutes we leave."

He yelled and leapt off of the stool, "Waffles!"

Alone again, I suddenly realized what I had just done. I could barely ponder the consequences last night with Mulder and Will being in the same house. Now they were going to share a breakfast table. If they couldn't handle it, would I be able to? Would Mulder find Will's eyes to be frighteningly familiar as well as his quirky laugh?

What have I done?

Before I could call Will to tell him he wasn't going to breakfast with me, he flew down the stairs, wearing a nice sweater and khaki pants. With a double-look, I noticed his hair was even slicked back. He paused at the door, "Uh, Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You going to wear pajamas to meet your friend?"

I looked down at my form to see a pale blue tee shirt and matching plaid flannel pants. After smiling at my own foolishness, I went up to my room. I put on a similar dress as Will, khakis and a turtleneck and after looking in the mirror; I decided it made me look short. I then tried on a navy blue skirt and a white blouse.

Again, not complimenting my petite build.

Finally, I decided on a navy blue pantsuit and cream blouse.

After ten minutes of applying make-up and choosing the right perfume, I gasped.

Good God, this was Mulder.

Why was I even doing this? I hardly even get this worried when I go out with friends or with Dave, why was I so nervous about Mulder? Has he changed that much? Not accordingly to last night, no, he was still the same old Mulder.

Just six years older.

Six years grayer.

Six years lonelier…

"Mom!" Will's voice called up from the kitchen.

I glanced at the mirror once more. "Coming, Will," I called back and grabbed my purse. Perhaps this wouldn't be two awkward. Maybe Mulder doesn't know Will is his son.

But if he didn't I would have to tell him.

Halfway down the stairs I turned abruptly and dashed back in to the bedroom. My fingers had ceased their nervous quiver as they rummaged through the small cedar jewelry box on my dresser. A sad smile crossed my lips as I retrieved the necklace.

My gold cross necklace.

I prayed that God would give me the strength I needed.

Hopefully, He would humor me today. Or at least through breakfast.

X

"I made this!"

X