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Skinner woke him up.
Mulder started, which caused Scully to jerk but not wake up, remaining in dreamland a few more minutes as Skinner crouched in front of him, “how’s she doing?”
“Exhausted. Hungry. Not hungry. Wishing she were your average, every day, sane librarian or candle salewoman.”
Skinner blinked but didn’t smile, “I’ll find that funny in a few weeks. What are you doing down here? How are the kids?”
Squeezing his partner’s upper arm lightly, “she needed real food and a reminder that the world still exists outside the walls,” and seeing him anxiously waiting, “and the kids are doing okay. Few bad dreams here and there but I’ve got them talking to me and Maggie and each other so I think they’ll be okay in the long run.” Taking in his boss with a critical eye, “how are you?”
“We don’t talk about me, Mulder.”
“We will when you come over for dinner tonight … or tomorrow … what time is it anyways?”
Watch arm twisting, “a little before 10. How long had you been sitting here?”
“Stop changing the subject. You’re coming over for dinner tomorrow night regardless of what you think you have to do instead.” Squinting, “no arguing, Walter. You probably haven’t eaten in a few days either and I don’t care if the world explodes around us, you need meatloaf.”
Skinner shadowed a smile at this point, “those Scully women are rubbing off on you and don’t call me Walter.”
“Okay, Walter.”
He stayed a few more minutes, long enough for Scully to wake up and groan as she moved, her muscles stiff from the cold floor. Sitting up, she blinked at her boss, “you need a vacation, sir.”
“See, she still calls me sir.”
“Whatever, Walter.”
Scully stood next, leaning on the wall for a moment while she got her bearings, “how are things going?”
Skinner shook his head, “do you really want to know?”
When she nodded, he told them.
&&&&&&&&&
Mulder crawled under the blankets at 2am, having finally, reluctantly, left Scully’s side, first making her eat the pot roast and potatoes, warmed in the break room microwave and consumed at a rickety table in uncomfortable plastic chairs entirely too reminiscent of every damn hotel they’d ever stayed in on cases.
She mentioned this, honestly comforted by the familiarity of it and Skinner, who had taken them up on the offer to share the food, shrugged, “I keep telling Mulder you two can spend a little more on hotels, maybe get them with a mattress less than 30 years old but he keeps insisting on the Davy Crockett lodges of the world.”
“Excuse me?”
Skinner finally smiled, realizing he started a fire, and quietly filled his mouth with potatoes, shooting glances between his favorite pair. He watched them lightly spar, slinging pathetically diluted barbs at one another until he had to interrupt, “I’ve seen you argue much better than this. Am I to expect that now you’re a thing that you’ll be treating each other with kid gloves or is it just a ‘now’ thing and I’ll be seeing fiery, raining hell from you both in the very near future?”
Scully laughed, her ears not used to the sound, and nudging Mulder under the table with her foot, “I’ll kick his ass both verbally and physically next week, sir, whether he deserves it or not.”
“That was my foot, Agent Scully.”
“Oh. Sorry, Walter.”
Skinner groaned, eyes closing as he blindly fed another forkful into his mouth, “you, too, really?”
“Stuff happens, Walter.”
“Be quiet, Mulder.”
&&&&&&&&&&&
Scully trudged into the house late that afternoon, instantly swarmed by littles and seeing their faces for the first time in almost three days, her throat constricted, superimposing charred flesh onto cherubic countenances. Mulder watched her transform in a heartbeat, eyes widening, face paling, hands rigid and he reached over short heads to take her shoulder, “come here, Scully. Kids, why don’t you go out back for a few minutes and let Aunt Dana relax, okay? We’ll be there in a little bit.”
Betsy, beautiful, blunt, Betsy, from the land of 5-year old honesty, turned Toby around, “Aunt Dana wants to cry. We gotta go.”
Mulder ruffled her hair with his free hand as she skirted by him, “never grow up, Bets.”
Already following the crowd to the kitchen, she called a cheerful, “Okay,” before disappearing through the door.
Once alone, Mulder took Scully’s face in her hands, “do you want to go upstairs for an epic breakdown or can you hold it together enough to go outside with the crowd? It’s up to you and I’ll follow you wherever you need to go. No judging, just hugs and possible kissing depending on the level of snot running out of your nose.”
A gurgled, strainingly pathetic chuckle emerged before she bit her lip, “upstairs if you don’t mind.”
Removing hands to hips, he turned her, waiting until she’d kicked her shoes off to move her to the stairs, “lead on.”
The tears started on the fifth step and by the time they’d invaded her old room, the floodgates broke, sobs into his shoulder soaking his shirt in seconds. Not sure if exhaustion played a role in her breaking, he held her close, waiting until her shuddering body came back under control before, “did something else happen or is this just three-day accumulation of ‘the world is shit and I haven’t slept at all’?” Leaving her forehead on his chest, she spoke so quietly he had to force his neck down, get his ear closer to her mouth, “what?”
“The last two days have been people I recognized names of but have never met but today, I ID’d Skinner’s secretary as well as that girl Holly from the Pusher case and Bill Tarkin from accounting.”
Mulder deflated, the air rushing from his lungs as his shoulders sagged, “damn it. Did you tell Skinner yet?”
Scully shook her head into him, “no. I should have told him when I found out but I just … I couldn’t do it … not then.” Pulling back, she looked up at him, his jaw square, his stubble evident, “but I should tonight, after dinner.”
“Would you like me to?”
Kissing the dent in his chin, “yes, but I’ll do it anyway.”
Eyes roaming over her face, taking in every possible and impossibly detail, he landed on her lips, washed out, cracked, chapped, “I would like to marry you right now, please.”
Her palms slid up his sides, arms, shoulders, to cross in a hug behind his head, “can I at least shower first?”
Whispering in her ear, “I’d take one with you if I could but I imagine the gang needs some supervision.”
Not letting him go just yet, “where’s mom?”
“Out in the back as well, probably encouraging mischief and mayhem.”
One kiss below his ear, “go break up the tomfoolery while I clean up. I’ll be down in a few.”
A critical look aimed in her direction, “are you sure? You can take as long as you need to. I got this parenting thing handled like you can’t even imagine.”
Instead of the smile he hoped to elicit, a far-off look fluttered through her gaze, “I know,” before she turned in his arms and headed to the hall.
He would dwell on that look later.