Mulder arrived at his mother's house on the Saturday afternoon before Halloween, expecting a quiet visit and maybe one of her home-cooked meals. But the moment he stepped inside, he could tell something was up. His mother greeted him with a wide smile, far too pleased with herself.
"Hi, Mom," he said cautiously, closing the door behind him. "You look... happy."
"Oh, I am, Fox," she replied, smoothing down her blouse. "I've got everything arranged for tonight."
He raised an eyebrow. "Arranged? What are you talking about? I thought we'd be having dinner here at home."
She clasped her hands together, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I made dinner reservations for you and Beth at La Trattoria. It's a lovely Italian place near the square—you'll like it. They have your favorite, the linguine with clams."
Mulder felt his stomach drop as he processed her words. Dinner reservations? This was worse than the usual hints and "friendly" introductions. He tried to keep his expression neutral, though he was sure he was failing.
"Mom…" he started, searching for the right words. "Look, I appreciate the effort, but I didn't agree to a date."
"I know, Fox," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "But you should go. Beth's a wonderful young woman—bright, kind, and she's really looking forward to it. I thought you could use a nice evening out. All you do is work."
Mulder blinked, struggling to process what he was hearing. "Beth? As in… the neighbor's niece?"
"Yes!" his mother said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "She's lovely, Fox. She's been staying with her aunt for a while, and I thought you two might get along."
"Mom," he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know if—"
"Oh, nonsense," she cut him off, giving him an affectionate but firm look. "It's just dinner. And Beth is such a nice girl—bright, thoughtful, and very down-to-earth. You could use a friend like that. It'll be good for you to get out of that FBI bubble."
Mulder exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He'd seen his mother's matchmaking skills in action before, but this was a new level.
"Besides," she continued, putting a gentle hand on his arm, "you deserve a chance to relax with someone who could make you happy."
"Mom, I don't need—" he started, but she cut him off with a sympathetic look.
"Just go, Fox," she said softly. "Enjoy yourself. You can call it a favor to your mother."
He paused, knowing he'd never hear the end of it if he refused. Dinner and a polite excuse later, he thought, resigning himself to the idea.
Mulder felt the familiar stir of resistance mixed with guilt. His mother meant well, he knew that. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried to tell her he wasn't looking for anyone right now. But when she looked at him like that, a hopeful softness in her eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.
"Fine," he said, sighing as he glanced at the clock. "What time is this little setup happening?"
"Eight o'clock, at La Trattoria," she replied, triumphant. "I made sure they have a table by the window. You'll like it—best linguine in town."
At precisely eight, Mulder found himself standing outside La Trattoria, taking a breath before heading inside. He wasn't nervous—at least, he didn't think he was. But there was a feeling of uncertainty that crept in as he scanned the restaurant, spotting Beth at a small table near the window.
She looked up as he approached, smiling in a way that made him feel slightly less awkward.
"Hey, Fox," she greeted him, standing to shake his hand. "Your mom is quite the planner."
"Tell me about it," he replied, giving her a half-smile as he took his seat. "I wasn't exactly expecting this, either."
They shared a laugh, both of them easing into the situation. As they settled in, Mulder realized that Beth was easy to talk to—friendly, charming, and genuinely interested in his work. She listened attentively as he shared a few lighthearted stories from the Bureau, and she told him about her career as a teacher, the students who drove her crazy, and her passion for hiking.
But as they talked, Mulder found himself becoming strangely detached. He'd respond, laugh at her jokes, nod along, but something felt...off. His thoughts kept wandering, pulling him somewhere else, or rather, to someone else.
Scully.
He hadn't told her about this dinner—mainly because he hadn't expected to be here in the first place. But as Beth continued to talk, he kept imagining how Scully might react to this setup. He could practically see her raised eyebrow, her dry smile. He could almost hear her quip, *You've been set up by your own mother, Mulder? That's a new one.*
"Sorry," he said abruptly, realizing he'd been quiet a beat too long. "I spaced out for a second."
Beth chuckled, seemingly unfazed. "No worries. Busy mind?"
He smiled apologetically. "Something like that."
They continued the conversation, and though he tried to stay engaged, his thoughts kept circling back. He realized, with growing clarity, that his disinterest wasn't about Beth—she was perfectly nice, and he genuinely enjoyed her company. It was more that, the entire time, he felt an odd absence, as if something essential were missing.
Beth noticed his wandering gaze and offered a small, understanding smile. "So...your mom said you work long hours. I'm guessing it keeps you pretty busy?"
He nodded, feeling a strange wave of gratitude that she wasn't pressing him on his lack of attention. "Yeah. It can be...consuming, to say the least."
"I can imagine," she said softly, looking at him with a gentle curiosity. "It must be nice to have a partner to share all that with. Your mom mentioned you work with someone?"
The mention of his partner jolted him, and he felt a slight pang of guilt. "Yeah. Scully. She's...amazing. I couldn't do what I do without her."
Beth smiled knowingly, though she said nothing further. Instead, she turned the conversation back to lighter topics, and Mulder found himself relaxing again, grateful for her kindness. But even as the night wound down, he knew this wasn't going anywhere. Not because of anything Beth had done, but because his mind—and his heart—were elsewhere.
After walking Beth to her car and thanking her for a nice evening, Mulder drove home, his thoughts whirling. The dinner had been pleasant enough, but as he'd sat there, laughing and making conversation, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all wrong.
As he stepped into his apartment, he felt his phone buzz with a message. It was from his mother: *Did you enjoy dinner with Beth?*
Mulder smiled, typing a response. *Yes, Mom. You win.*
But as he put the phone down, his mind drifted, settling on the one person he wished had been there instead. And for the first time, he felt ready to face what he'd been avoiding all along.
Mulder had been back in his apartment for all of five minutes, the drive from his mother's place in Connecticut was a blur. The quiet of his apartment though felt stifling. The evening's events played on a loop in his mind as he paced from his kitchen to his living room, trying to pinpoint the vague discomfort he'd felt all night.
Beth had been great—charming, funny, everything his mother had promised. But sitting across from her at that candlelit table, all he could think about was Scully. The absence he'd felt during dinner had been glaring, like a missing piece that made the entire night feel incomplete. Beth had even picked up on it; he could see it in her knowing smiles and subtle questions about his partnership. She had noticed his wandering gaze, his mind elsewhere.
And "elsewhere" had a name: Scully.
As the realization hit him, he stopped pacing, feeling both a strange relief and a pang of frustration. All this time, he'd brushed off his feelings, burying them under the guise of friendship, loyalty, and their shared purpose. But tonight, without her there, it had become clear: he wanted her with him, not just as a partner, but as something far more.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his keys. He didn't have a plan; he just knew he needed to see her.
Mulder found himself outside Scully's door in the stillness of early morning, his knuckles grazing the wood as he knocked. He hadn't thought much past *getting* here, but the date had left him feeling restless and unsatisfied in a way he couldn't ignore, and here, for some reason, felt like the only place he wanted to be.
After a long pause, he heard her footsteps shuffling across the floor. The door cracked open, and Scully blinked up at him, squinting as she took him in. She looked sleep-rumpled, her red hair slightly tousled, and she wore a soft, one-piece pajama covered in tiny Halloween pumpkins, black cats, and grinning skeletons. From inside her apartment, Mulder caught the warm, sweet scent of freshly baked cookies.
"Is it too late for a visit?" he asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he took in the unexpected scene.
She raised a sleepy eyebrow, shifting on her feet and crossing her arms as she gave him a wry look. "Relatively late or relatively early?" she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'd have to consult Einstein on that one. But what brings you here at this ungodly hour, Mulder?"
He hesitated, wondering for a moment if he'd come on impulse, but then he met her gaze. "I had a date tonight," he said, his voice quieter than he'd expected.
She blinked, her expression faltering for a split second before she schooled it back into place. "And... you want me to meet her now?" she replied, attempting a smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper—hurt, maybe, or disappointment.
He quickly shook his head, his own smile fading. "No, not at all. The thing is...all I could think about tonight was that it wasn't you sitting across from me."
Scully's expression softened, the hint of hurt giving way to something warmer, though her guard was still up. She shifted, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't need to come here in the middle of the night just because your date didn't go as planned, Mulder."
Mulder stood in the warmth of Scully's doorway, his words still hanging in the air. "That's just it," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet conviction. "Being with anyone else just feels…wrong. I kept thinking how much I wanted to be here, with you, instead."
Scully raised an eyebrow, her sleepiness fading as she took him in, then stepped aside, gesturing him inside with a slight smile. "Well, just so you know, I babysat my seven-year-old godson tonight. We baked cookies shaped like witch fingers and carved a pumpkin." She looked over her shoulder, amusement in her eyes. "There were certainly better places to be—or at least less messy ones."
Mulder followed her inside, chuckling, though her words brought a sudden pang to his chest. He glanced over her, reminded, not for the first time, of everything she'd lost because of their work, because of him. He managed a smile anyway. "That sounds like fun. Cookies in the shape of witch fingers, huh?"
"Oh, it was," she said dryly as she led him to the kitchen, where a plate of dark-green-tinted cookies sat, complete with almonds on the tips for fingernails. "See for yourself."
Mulder leaned over the plate, eyes widening as he picked one up. "These are incredible," he said, genuinely impressed. "A little horrifying, but incredible."
Scully smiled, reaching for the coffee pot. "I'll make some coffee. You can tell me all about this date of yours. Let's start with how many drinks you had."
He laughed, settling at her small kitchen table, still holding a witch-finger cookie. "Scully, I was practically sober. I had one glass of wine, maybe half, actually. I just… I kept feeling like I was supposed to be somewhere else."
She poured two mugs of coffee, setting one in front of him before taking the seat across the table. Her expression was relaxed, but there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Okay, I'll bite. Why?"
Mulder took a sip of his coffee, his gaze meeting hers. "Because… I realized I wasn't looking for anything else, not really. I thought maybe I was ready to try a normal life, see what that was like. But when I looked across the table, all I could think was how much I wanted you there instead. I guess, tonight, I finally stopped pretending I didn't feel that way."
Her gaze softened, and her hand reached across the table, resting over his briefly. "Well, I'm glad you finally made it here."
They sat there in the quiet warmth of her kitchen, the aroma of coffee mingling with the sweet smell of cookies. The world outside felt far away, and for now, the only place he wanted to be was right here, with her.
Mulder's gaze never wavered, his tone both soft and intense. "So, you're glad I finally made it here?" he asked, leaning in slightly. "Why?"
Scully swallowed, meeting his eyes with a quiet steadiness. "Because I feel the same way," she admitted quietly.
His expression softened, a hint of surprise mingling with something deeper. "Then why didn't you make this known to me?" he asked, his tone almost gentle. "What stopped you?"
She looked away for a moment, her hand tracing a circle on her coffee mug. "Because of all the ramifications," she said finally. "This changes everything. Our work, our partnership..."
Mulder shook his head. "It won't change our work, Scully. That's just an excuse, isn't it?"
She looked back up at him, a faint flicker of worry in her eyes. "It would change our relationship, Mulder. Everything we've built together, everything we rely on...it could shift in ways we can't control."
"I should hope it would change things," he replied with a small smile. "I want it to change things."
"Look around you, Mulder," she said softly, gesturing to the room around them. "You are my best friend. Maybe even my only friend. If things didn't work out…" Her voice trailed off, her gaze falling to the table, as if the idea itself was too painful to say out loud.
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his, his voice low and certain. "We'll work out either way, Scully. And if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that I'll always be your best friend, no matter what. Just like you're mine." He gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, his eyes filled with warmth. "I know what's at stake here. I know what I'm risking. And I think it's worth it."
They sat there, hand in hand, the room filled with the quiet certainty of their shared understanding. In that moment, Scully knew he was right. And for once, the fear of what could be was outweighed by the possibility of everything they could build—together.
Mulder's eyes sparkled with a newfound confidence as he leaned in, his voice a mix of hope and playfulness. "Let's go on a date," he said softly, his gaze locked on hers. "You and me."
Scully raised an eyebrow, her mouth quirking into a smirk. "Mulder, it's almost 3 a.m."
He chuckled, the tension between them lightening. "Not now, obviously. But later. Today, even. Somewhere we don't usually go."
She looked at him thoughtfully, her expression softening. "Mulder… we've done all the things people do on dates. We've eaten together, seen to movies together… hell, we've even danced before."
He grinned, nodding in agreement. "That's true. We've done all the datey things people do…" He paused, his smile turning playful as he leaned in closer. "…except for one."
Scully's cheeks flushed as she met his gaze, the air around them thickening with anticipation. "We haven't kissed in that way, either."
Mulder leaned forward, his face inches from hers, his voice softening. "That's true," he whispered, his voice almost a murmur. "But that can be changed... easily."
They looked at each other for a moment, the quiet realization of everything unspoken settling around them. Slowly, they closed the space between them, their breaths mingling as they leaned in, each holding their breath as if savoring this long-awaited moment.
Then, finally, their lips met—gentle at first, a soft, tentative brush. But as the kiss deepened, it was filled with everything they'd held back for years: trust, longing, and a promise of everything yet to come.
When they finally parted, Scully's lips curved into a wry smile, her cheeks still flushed. "We can't do the other 'datey' thing people do tonight, though."
Mulder raised an eyebrow, casting her a playful, questioning look. "Why not?"
She glanced down at herself, gesturing at her Halloween-themed onesie. "This onesie doesn't exactly scream *come hither* does it?"
Mulder broke into a laugh, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Are you kidding? It doesn't matter to me. Besides," he added, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye, "who knows what's underneath…"
Scully blushed, rolling her eyes but clearly enjoying the banter. "If you remember what I wore on our very first case, you might already know."
Mulder's eyes widened with delighted surprise, and, unable to resist, he leaned forward, sneaking a peek down the collar of her onesie. His expression lit up as he caught sight of her bra, a familiar sight from years past. "Oh, goody," he said with a grin, voice low with a touch of nostalgia. "I didn't think I'd ever see that bad boy again."
Scully laughed, playfully pushing him away, but her smile was warm, her eyes meeting his with a twinkle. "Consider it a throwback," she said, resting her hand over his. "Maybe next time I'll be a little more... prepared."
Mulder smirked, covering her hand with his own. "I think you're perfectly prepared as you are."
They shared a look, comfortable in the unspoken promise between them, feeling the years of partnership settling into something new, something long overdue.
Scully yawned, glancing at him with an apologetic smile. "Can we nonetheless postpone that to after our date?" she asked, gesturing vaguely. "It's the middle of the night, Mulder, and I'm dead tired. There's a good chance I'll fall asleep the moment I get into a horizontal position."
Mulder chuckled, smiling at the thought of them being together in that way—*whenever* that way came. "Of course," he said softly, his gaze warm. He looked past her toward the TV, where a frozen frame from the *Addams Family* movie stared back at them. "What were you watching?" he asked, nodding toward the screen.
"I put it on for my godson before his mom picked him up," she explained, her tone light and affectionate. "We got halfway through, and after he left, I tried to finish it on my own... didn't quite make it to the end."
Mulder grinned, getting up and moving to the TV. "Well, let's fix that." He popped the tape back in, rewinding it. Then he turned back to her, gesturing toward the couch. "Come here," he said, holding up the blanket that had slipped off the edge when she'd gone to answer the door.
Scully walked over, settling onto the couch next to him as he wrapped the blanket around her. She let herself sink back, leaning her head on a pillow in his lap, her body relaxing as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
"I won't make it past the opening credits," she mumbled, her voice drowsy but content.
Mulder looked down at her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, smiling at how peaceful she looked. "That's fine," he murmured. "I'll tell you all about the movie over breakfast."
She gave a soft hum of agreement, her eyes already drifting closed. And as the familiar, spooky theme music of the *Addams Family* began to play, Mulder settled in, content to watch over her as she dozed off, feeling, for the first time, like he was exactly where he belonged.