The morning started with a groggy Scully attempting to sit up in bed, only to be gently pushed back down by Mulder. "Oh no, Agent Scully. You're staying put," he said, placing a glass of water and a box of tissues on the nightstand. "You've been running yourself ragged, and the flu wins this time. I've got the girls."
"Mulder, you can't possibly—" she started, her voice hoarse, but he interrupted her with a mock-serious expression.
"Dana Katherine Scully, I'll have you know I am a pro at morning chaos. I'll get them dressed, fed, and ready for preschool. And they'll even have matching socks."
She raised a skeptical eyebrow but smiled faintly. "Good luck."
In the nursery, the triplets were already awake and full of energy. Beatrice was lining up her stuffed animals for a "tea party," Sabrina was flipping through a picture book, and Joanna was standing in her pajamas, holding a comb and a hair tie.
"Dad! You need to braid my hair!" Joanna declared, marching up to him.
"Braids, huh?" Mulder said, crouching down to her level. "How about we make a deal? You get dressed first, and I'll braid your hair so well that the other kids will be jealous."
Joanna beamed and darted off to find her clothes.
By the time he got all three girls dressed, it was time to tackle their hair. Mulder set them up in the kitchen, turning one of the chairs into a makeshift salon station.
"Okay, who's first?"
"Me!" Joanna shouted, hopping onto the chair with a grin.
Mulder worked methodically, his fingers surprisingly nimble as he twisted her hair into neat braids. "You know," he said as he worked, "I might've missed my calling as a hairstylist. What do you think, Jo?"
She giggled. "You'd be the best, Daddy!"
"Darn right," he said, securing the braid with a tiny elastic.
Sabrina went next, asking for pigtails, which Mulder delivered with equal precision. "Looking sharp, Jo," he said, using her nickname as he handed her a mirror.
Finally, it was Beatrice's turn. She requested a single French braid, and Mulder concentrated as though he were decoding a classified file. "There," he said triumphantly, stepping back. "I think that might be my masterpiece."
Beatrice examined his work and gave him an approving nod. "It's perfect, Dad."
Lunches were next, and Mulder packed their favorite sandwiches, carrot sticks, and a cookie for each. By the time they were ready to leave, the girls looked like little fashion plates, their hair flawless and their smiles wide.
As he walked them to the car, Beatrice tugged on his sleeve. "Daddy, can you always do our hair?"
Mulder crouched down and smiled at her. "You know what? I'd love to."
The girls all threw their arms around him in a group hug, and Mulder couldn't help but think that, flu-stricken Scully aside, it wasn't such a bad morning after all.
Later, when they got home from preschool and shared the day's stories, Mulder found himself brushing and braiding their hair again before bed. Scully, propped up on the couch with a cup of tea, watched with a small, amused smile.
"You know," she said, her voice still raspy, "they might start thinking you're better at this than I am."
Mulder grinned, tying off a final braid. "Not better. Just different."
The girls chimed in agreement, hugging Mulder one more time before scampering off to bed.
Scully leaned her head back against the cushion, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "You're a good dad, Mulder."
His expression softened as he sat beside her. "I try. But it helps that they're pretty great kids."