Chapter Text
Mulder's footsteps echoed throughout the dark house and the floorboards creaked in complaint. On tiptoes, he softly treads to the end of the landing, spying the yellow light spilling out from under the door. He waited, holding his breath, listening. He reached for the handle, wincing as the old, wooden door opened with a groan.
Inside, Lily was curled under her blankets, just a small lump at one end of the bed. Her frizzy hair had a way of getting everywhere, plastered to the pillow and her cheek alike. Even in a state of disarray, she looked peaceful.
Mulder smiled uncontrollably, emotion surging through him like his beam growing from ear to ear. He cautiously continued in order to turn the bedside light off, stopping first to crouch down and brush away the whisps of hair from her face. He placed a featherlight kiss to her forehead only then catching sight of some crayons and a piece of paper behind her. He plucked the rogue items from the bed, placing them on the nightstand out of the way. As for the piece of paper clutched in his grasp, he needed more time to comprehend its true meaning and he needed to show Scully.
With a click, the room was plunged into darkness and the journey back to the door seemed twice as perilous. When he finally pulled the door to, Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, safe at last on the other side. His walk to his own door was more gallant, excited by the thing he carried so carefully.
"Knock, knock," he whispered from behind his own door, peering round to see Scully in her glasses, reading a book.
She looked up, frowning. "Since when do you knock, Mulder?"
"Never too late to learn manners. Besides, look what I found." He withdrew the piece of paper from behind his back, waving it enticingly in front of him.
Putting her book down, she eyed him curiously. "You have me intrigued."
Mulder clambered into his side of the bed, stealing some of the comforter from where it was pulled up under Scully's arms. She swatted at his hand and tugged it back again, to which he pouted.
"What is it then?" she urged him.
"Ta-dah!" He brandished the paper before her, finally revealing what all the fuss was about. "We have officially made it into the parent good books."
Scully gently took the drawing, holding it in reverence. Her lips parted to speak, but words failed her. She turned to Mulder, meeting his gleaming eyes, his grin barely contained. She could see in his face everything she couldn't say; he exuded unabashed pride. That warmth pulled her in and Scully smiled just to see him smile. Her focus returned to the picture, to the title 'My faivorit surperherose', and to the comic strip of them fighting monsters. She turned back to him, eventually whispering, "all those stories we told her, I never thought she was so enamoured by them."
"Who wouldn't be, Scully? Look, we're superheroes! We're fighting aliens!" He pointed to each square with the excitement as if he were a child himself. "And there you're slicing 'n dicing, probably whilst I'm off elsewhere writing up the reports."
Scully scoffed, "well, that never happened."
"I don't know what you mean," he huffed indignantly. "I was perfectly adequate at the paperwork."
"Trying to get you to do paperwork was like trying to feed a cat medicine. I swear sometimes I had to actually stroke your throat to get you to swallow the task," she added, muttering the last part under her breath. It had always amazed her how Mulder could be so devoted to his job- often to the point of obsession- yet when it came down to the nitty-gritty real stuff, suddenly the ceiling needed redecorating with sharpened, yellow, HB weapons.
"Only because like everything else, you were better at it than me," he sulked.
Scully rolled her eyes at his half-hearted excuse and returned back to the comic strip. With all the monsters that captured their daughter's imagination, she wondered if Lily would have a different opinion if she had been there to see how it really was. One particular man stood out to her.
"Do you think 'strechee man' is... Tooms?" she asked apprehensively, already knowing the answer. A cold shiver came over her as she remembered his glowing eyes that had stalked all those years ago. It was a dim memory now, a whisper of another life. Looking back, she had been so green and the attack had felt personal. It still felt personal the god-knows-how-many other times it happened afterwards, but this one had only been her third case and had shaken her to her core. Despite her daughter's obvious intrigue with monsters, she wondered if Lily would have a different opinion if she had been there to see how it really was.
Mulder, too, remembered that case, although for an altogether different reason. Sat with dour expression in the interrogation room whilst agents had ridiculed him, Scully had stuck up for him, but more than that, she had proven they were in it together. He might have been the tiniest bit possessive over Scully- perhaps the first true inkling to how he really felt- telling her as such at the time, even if she had thought he was talking about the case. A smirk crept into the smile he had at the thought of having her by his side all these years later. He impulsively wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled her temple.
"You know, it's never too late to be head of the Bureau," he whispered in her ear.
She chuckled. "Why would I when I'm the head of this house and I have everything I could possibly want right under its roof?"
Mulder pulled back from her, a questioning look stitched upon his brow. "Since when were you the boss?"
"Since when wasn't I?" she replied candidly, remaining poised with her look fixed upon the paper. In the final tile, she noticed not two but three figures standing in a hero stance, capes billowing enigmatically in the fictional breeze. They all wore serious expressions fit for their crime-fighting duties- apart from one. It didn't take a genius to correlate the character's goofy smile to the one Mulder had worn when he first presented this work. The character in the middle had long, orange hair like Scully's own, but the one to the side had no hair at all.
"Who's the bald man?" Scully asked.
Mulder had seen this as well and wondered who it could be. Lily hadn't met many people from their past lives as agents; there weren't that many people to meet. Although, one person afflicted with baldness did spring to mind. "Is that..." he had begun, hesitant to commit it to words.
"Skinner."
They both stared in silence.
The silence didn't last long, however, as an itch grew from deep within Mulder's lungs, which erupted in a laugh- to think their ex-boss had been immortalised at the hand of a six-year-old so perfectly. Scully had to agree upon its comic nature; there was a sternness about him that was undeniably humorous.
"She's really captured his grumpiness," she mused. "It's uncanny."
Mulder couldn't help but laugh again. "We should definitely send him a photo."
"I'm sure he'd appreciate that." Scully looked as though she wanted to say something further but hesitated, the words hanging from her lips. "But Mulder," she started, "don't you think it's odd having our lives caricatured and romanticised?"
"Scully, I think you're missing the point," he urged her in earnest. "Lily thinks we used to be real superheroes. How cool is that?"
"Don't most children see their parents as superheroes to some extent at this age? Parents are the first role models that children encounter, so they look up to them when they are young and impressionable," she reasoned. "I know I always saw Ahab like that."
"But this Batman and Robin level super!" he implored her.
"Batman is... cool... I guess."
"Scully," he said measuredly, taking the comic back from her grasp. "I don't mean to rain on your parade, but in this scenario, I am the Batman of the pair of us."
"You've always been my sidekick, Mulder." She rested a cheek to his arm and smiled.
"That's not true: you're my sidekick," he teased her. "Not forgetting, of course, my best friend, the love of my life, the mother of my child, and all the other things, which for the sake of not digging myself in further, I will let you fill out," he added just to be on the safe side.
"Like my sidekick," she smirked, huddling up to him more closely. He eyed her suspiciously, but she only gave him her innocent gaze.
Scully had no idea why they still did it- wound each other up. There seemed to be no point other than because they could. Because proving each other wrong came naturally to them. Because it was still endearing to see the other fluster. Every time she challenged him, it reminded her of their old coded flirting and how much they meant to each other even before they recognised it.
"Sure, Scully," he muttered, knowing she had won and so decided to change the subject. "What do we do with it? I think it's definitely fridge-worthy art."
She sighed. "We should put it back so she doesn't realise its missing; you know how she is when things go missing."
"Her mother's daughter," he hummed.
"Yet she hasn't figured the art of putting things away- for which I am blaming you." She looked him straight in the eye, a hint of seriousness behind her humorous mask.
"That's hardly fair," he protested. "I've tried teaching her where the box is for her toys, it's just that on some genetic level, mess makes her happy. Some people thrive off disorganised environments."
"Mulder. She is six. All six-year-olds thrive off of mess if that means they don't have to put stuff away. But you are not six, so you'd better put that back before we have an earful tomorrow."
Mulder reluctantly got out of bed, feeling the warmth leach from him into the cold surrounding air. Stumbling across the floor, he through he a playful look. "I'm six at heart, Scully, clever as clever, and I'll be six forever and ever."
She threw his pillow at him with a giggle. "Go on."
Scully was drifting off by the time the door creaked open again. She half-opened one eye and saw Mulder bend to pick up his pillow from the floor. She closed her eye again as the pillow came hurtling towards her, landing on the other side of her head. Even though her eyes were hidden behind their lids, Mulder was sure he saw them roll in their sockets.
He crawled into bed after her, seeking her like a beacon in the dead of the foggy night.
"Did she wake?" she mumbled.
"Yeah but not before I put it back. I said I was just checking on her."
He cuddled up to her, seeking her warmth like the comfortable embers of a cottage fire during the winter storm. Wrapping himself around her from behind, he was like her armoured plating, custom-made to fit. She took his hand in hers, using it as an extra pillow beneath her cheek. Pressed so congruently together, he could feel the dull of their heartbeats together like a lullaby slowly drifting him to sleep.
"I've been thinking, Mulder." Her voice was heavy with tiredness, but she continued nevertheless. "You're not my sidekick."
He smiled into her hair. "Finally, she listens."
Scully turned to look into his eyes but was met with his resting face. Whilst his breathing was soft, she could tell he wasn't asleep just yet. "No, I just mean, you're my Mulder: we're equals."
He looked hazily at Scully then, her gentile face, mere inches from his, regarded him with an ethereal allure. Equality: the oldest unspoken agreement of theirs was the reason they had made it this far together. And they each knew that it was never in question. Their trusts, their friendship, their lives were built upon it. The corner's of Mulder's mouth tugged gently upwards as he thought all of this. "You're going all soppy on me," he murmured.
"Maybe I've mellowed. Or I'm just tired."
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you."
"I appreciate it," she smiled, sleep turning it into a yawn.
Mulder turned over and Scully leaned into him, resting her cheek against the plain of his back and anchoring them together with an arm cast over his side. He liked it when she was the big spoon despite the disparity in size. It was comforting to know she had his back and he knew she secretly liked hugging him like a giant teddy bear. And he secretly liked being a giant teddy bear.
"Sweet dreams, my sidekick," Mulder mumbled.
"Seriously, Mulder." She poked one of his ribs, which made him squeal- but not a girly squeal.
"Love you," he sheepishly replied, taking a hold of her hand and intertwining their fingers.
She dozily hummed against his top before the wreaths of sleep whispered to her and dragged her under towards dreamland.