Title - More Than Words

Author - Nicky

Rating - G

Classification - Vignette/Romance

Keywords - Mulder/Scully Romance

Timeline - late season 8, sometime after Alone

Summary - The secrets of life are revealed to Mulder during a trip to the grocery store.

Disclaimer - The characters don't belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own therapeutic purposes. They will be returned relatively unharmed to Chris Carter, or whoever wants to borrow them next, when I'm done.

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Mulder rolls to his side, just barely catching himself before he falls off his couch. He hardly sleeps in his bed anymore. It just seems so big and lonely without Scully. His memories from before he was taken fill his mind every time he even thinks of getting into the bed. Memories of his nights with Scully. But without her . . .

He sighs as he becomes more conscious. Then he realizes what woke him. The phone is ringing. Panic sieges him as his imagination goes into overdrive. It must be Scully. And something must be wrong.

"Scully, are you all right?" he asks breathlessly into the phone, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He searches the room for his shoes and car keys, preparing to rush to her aid if necessary.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she assures him. "Really, I am. I just . . ."

"What?" His voice is a little calmer. His heartbeat has almost returned to normal.

"I feel so silly now," she says. "It's nothing. Sorry I woke you."

"Scully, it's not nothing if you called me. Just tell me what is it."

"Do you remember if there was any marshmallow fluff left?" she finally asks after a moment's hesitation. "I was looking for the jar in the cabinet and couldn't find it."

"The marshmallow fluff?" he repeats, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. This is what she called him for? "Check the fridge. I might have stuck it in there."

"Thanks, I'll check. Good night, Mulder."

"Night, Scully." He hangs up the phone and just shakes his head in disbelief. Marshmallow fluff? He smiles, his irritation turning to amusement, before lying back down, sleep reclaiming him quickly.

Minutes, or maybe hours later, the phone rings again. He has almost the same panicked reaction as he did the first time.

"Scully?"

"I'm okay, Mulder. Sorry I keep on worrying you."

"No, it's no problem. What's up?" he asks, trying to cover a yawn.

"You were asleep," she realizes. "And I woke you. Never mind, Mulder. I'm sorry."

"Scully, I was just dozing off," he tells her, hoping the little fib will assuage her guilt. "Do you need something?"

"Sweet pickles. I could have sworn I had some . . . "

"You finished them earlier. While we were watching the movie," he reminds her.

"Oh. Well okay then." She sounds as if she's about the hang up, but Mulder never hears the phone disconnect. She must still have something on her mind, he figures.

"Did you ever find that marshmallow fluff?"

"I did, actually. The jar was practically empty, though. Barely a spoonful left."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I shouldn't have put up such a small amount."

"No, I'm sorry, Mulder. This is insane. I shouldn't have woken you. Go back to sleep," she insists before hanging the phone up.

But he finds he can't go back to sleep. Scully wouldn't have called him for no reason. It's obvious she was looking for the marshmallow fluff and sweet pickles if she called him in the middle of the night for them. He's read about these cravings, and is both amused and a little shocked that Scully would be victim to such a common pregnancy cliche. However, unable to deny her anything, he finds a shirt and some shoes and heads for the all night grocery store. He decides that his pajama bottoms will have to pass for pants.

With hardly any traffic that time of night, Mulder makes it to the store in no time. Without any thought, he finds the aisles with the marshmallow fluff and pickles and heads towards the checkout. A collision with another shopper prevents him from making it.

"Sorry, buddy," a familiar voice says. "I didn't mean to . . . Agent Mulder?"

"Agent Doggett," Mulder says, his feelings guarded around the man. On the one hand, he's proven to be trustworthy by watching Scully's back for all those months he was gone. But by that same token, Mulder can't help but feel jealous that this man had all of that time with her. Time that was stolen from Mulder. "And it's just Mulder now, remember?"

"Oh yeah. So Mulder, what brings you out in the middle of the night? In your pajamas?" he asks with a grin after checking out Mulder's outfit. But the grin soon turns into a full blown smile when he notices the items Mulder's purchasing. "Oh, let me guess. Agent Scully was craving a pickle and marshmallow sandwich?"

"Something like that," Mulder says, returning the smile. The guy isn't so bad, Mulder decides to himself. Besides, he probably should stay on his good side if he wants to hear anything about the X-Files in the future. "She called me a few times to ask for these ingredients, but never came right out and said she wanted them. I figured I'd better get them to her before I got a third phone call."

"That's right. Never mess with a hungry pregnant woman. You'll live to regret it. Trust me on that one," Doggett laughs. "I remember some of the crazy things my wife ate when she was pregnant. She had the strangest cravings. For example, she loved beer. But she hated the non-alcoholic kind. So she would make me drink her favorite beer, which I hated by the way, and then she'd kiss me to get the flavor. That part wasn't so bad, though."

"I'll bet," Mulder says, his face lighting.

"You should try it," Doggett continues. "I'm sure Agent Scully would . . . " He stops suddenly when he realizes what the assumptions he's making about the status of Mulder and Scully's relationship. There have been rumors about the two of them, but neither has come out and admitted to being a couple or to Mulder being the baby's father.

"I mean, assuming that you two . . . I don't mean to imply that you and . . ." Doggett stutters. But Mulder's amused reaction shocks him, making his eyes squint suspiciously when the other man bursts out laughing.

"It's the middle of the night, Agent Doggett," Mulder chuckles. "I'm at a grocery store in my pajamas with my hands full of weird food for a very pregnant woman. You're a smart guy. I'd be worried if you didn't jump to the conclusion you've obviously jumped to. You know what they say. If it looks like a duck and acts like a duck . . . "

"Yeah, yeah. Chances are it is a duck," Doggett says, joining in the laughter for a few moments before a look of confusion comes to his face. "But that's what I don't really understand. I don't mean any harm by this, but why is she *calling* you in the middle of the night? Why aren't you there?"

Mulder ponders the man and his question. He can see genuine concern in Doggett's eyes and decides he's not just being nosey or looking for something to feed the rumor mill. So he answers him truthfully.

"If I had my way, I would be there. But with Scully, I'm not so sure what she wants. I've learned to let her take her time to think about decisions like this. When she's ready, she'll come to me."

"Time," Doggett sighs, shaking his head. "You two have given that word a bad meaning. "When you first came back, I noticed a distance between the two of you. She said she was giving you the time you needed, no matter how much your distance hurt her. I thought it was a lame excuse then and I still think the same way now. Except now, you're the one giving it to me."

"It's not an excuse," Mulder insists, not knowing why he's even bothering giving Doggett an explanation. "It's just . . . it's just the way we do things."

"Maybe you should change that," Doggett says with a resigned shrug. "Because if it's one thing I think the both of you should have learned from your experience is that you don't always have all the time you think you're going to have. You've already missed so much. Time you can't get back. Time you don't realize you miss until it's gone. Take it from me."

Doggett takes a deep breath as memories from his lost son flash through his mind. Memories that he cherishes, grateful that he has them. He won't let this man make the same mistake.

"Mulder, maybe there's a lot more she wants you to hear . . . but can't really come out and say it," he continues. "If she can't ask you to bring her some pickles, then what makes you think she'll ask you something like this?"

"I never really thought of it that way," Mulder mutters after a stunned moment of silence, cursing himself for his ignorance. "We think we're giving each other time. But really we're just wasting it."

"Just think about what I said," Doggett concludes, lifting his arm to glance at his watch. "Ooh, I gotta run. I just stooped in the pick up some snacks for tonight. I'm on a stakeout with Agent Reyes."

"Yeah, don't want to keep the lady waiting," Mulder grins, remembering the sparks that flew between the two agents when he worked the case with them.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Good night . . . John," Mulder says, giving the other man an appreciative nod. "And thanks for the advice. I'll think about what you've said."

"Not too long, I hope," Doggett says before walking away, leaving Mulder all alone in the aisle.

"No, not long at all," Mulder thinks out loud. He won't waste any more time than necessary. Doggett was right. He has missed a lot already. He doesn't want to miss another minute. And there's only one way to make sure that happens.

That in mind, Mulder moves towards the cash register to pay for the food. He has one more stop before going to Scully's. One thing to do that will turn this whole situation around. His actions seem to speak louder to her than his words. He can't wait to see what she has to say about what he's about to do. Hopefully it will be the solution to all their problems.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He knocks once to let her know he's there and then uses his key to let himself in. He hears the water come on in the bathroom and realizes she's awake. Just making one of her almost hourly trips to relieve herself.

"Scully," he calls out to her just as she opens the bathroom door.

"Mulder. What are you doing here?"

"Thought you might be a little hungry. When you called earlier . . . "

"I didn't mean for you to come all the way over here," she interrupts him, the guilt evident on her face. "I shouldn't have called."

"No, Scully. I'm glad you did call me. I'm the one who should be doing these things for you. Sit down and relax. I got a bag of goodies for you," he smiles, taking her hand and pulling her down on the couch with him. His smile widens as he sees her face light up with happiness at his gesture. He knows that he's done the right thing. "You want me to get the bread? Make this into a sandwich?"

"This is fine," she says around of a mouthful of marshmallow fluff covered pickle. "Perfect. I'm glad you brought it."

"I'm glad you're glad. But I have one more surprise for you."

She eyes him suspiciously and watches as he pulls out a bottle of red wine from the grocery bag. She grows even more curious when he only pulls out one glass.

"What's this all about?" she asks him, becoming even more confused when he pours some wine into the glass and takes a generous drink. "You know I can't have any of that."

"True," he nods, taking another drink. "But you can have this."

The wicked gleam in his eyes is the only warning she gets as he swoops down and captures her lips in an almost crushing kiss. With her gasp of surprise, her mouth opens, the invitation he seems to have been waiting for. His tongue invades her mouth, filling it with the rich flavor of her favorite wine.

"How was that?" he asks, breathless still from the kiss.

"The best wine I ever had," she replies, a stunned and dazed look on her face. "More, please."

"My pleasure," he grins. Taking another sip of the wine, he repeats the earlier process, with very much the same results as before. "More?"

"The wine's good," she says, licking her lips to savor the taste. She seems to recall him making a statement a few years back about the air in his mouth tasting better than her tofutti rice dreamsicle. Truer words have never been spoken, she realizes. She's essentially only tasting the wine residue in his mouth. But she discovers it's just the thing she's craving. Not so much the wine, but him.

"Very good wine," she repeats, now licking his lips. "But I think I like my Mulder straight and uncut."

This time she's the one who initiates the kiss.

"As fun as this is," he pants after he manages to pry himself from her, "I think you need to be getting back to bed. You need your rest."

Her pout almost undoes him. But he still has one more surprise for her.

"You're leaving?" she whines, the pathetic sound almost breaking his heart.

"No, Scully. Not tonight," he tells her before helping her off the couch and towards the bedroom. Her gasp lets him know when she sees his suitcase. "Not ever, if you'll have me."

"Mulder?"

"I ran into someone who gave me some very good advice tonight. He reminded me of something I've always known about you. You don't always say what you want. But somehow I always know anyway."

"Yes. You do," she smiles.

"But for some reason, as much as I wanted to be here with you, I convinced myself that you weren't ready. That you'd let me know when you were ready. I was waiting for words, though. And with us sometimes actions speak louder than words. Your actions tonight let me know you wanted me here and also made me realize how much I wanted to be here."

She looks up at him with a sweet smile, wrapping her arms around him as much as her huge belly would allow.

"Thank you," she whispers through her tears. "Thank you for hearing me . . . even when I didn't say anything. And for knowing how much I love you. Even when I haven't told you."

He smiles and responds with a kiss filled with more love than he could ever tell her about. A love that's more than words. Because while one day, words may turn to lies, the truth in his actions will live on forever.

The end.

* * * * * * * * * *

More than words is all you have to do to make it real

Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me

'Cause I'd already know --- "More Than Words", Extreme