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Gooey darkness greets him as he slowly comes to, trying to blink away the sleep from his eyes. He wakes up languidly, stretching his legs, amazed at how soft this bed is. How quiet everything is here. How wonderful it smells.
Wait.
Mulder opens his eyes fully, looking around. His head is throbbing in tandem with his heartbeat. Where the fuck is he and why is he not alone in his bed? First things first. This, he realizes seeing a picture of a very young Scully and her siblings – Bill may have grown, but he hasn’t changed – on the nightstand, is not his bed, or his home. The memories return to him in scraps. Hospital. Concussion. Scully’s car. Scully’s mother’s house.
The bed he’s sleeping in is Scully’s. The person he’s sharing the bed with is… Scully. His eyes are still getting used to the dark, but now that he knows, he can see her. The lump under the comforter is without a doubt his partner. This isn’t the first time they’re sharing a bed, but it’s the first time they’re sharing her bed. He doesn’t remember why they put him up here in Scully’s room. Does her mother think they’re dating? Scully, still asleep, chooses that moment to scoot closer to him, sighing deeply. Her scent is intoxicating. So is her proximity. If his mind keeps going down this path, his head will soon no longer be the only thing throbbing.
What he has to do is get a grip. This is Scully. She brought him here because he got himself hurt – again – and he couldn’t be left alone. Like a child. He’s crashing her Christmas because he acted before thinking. He should thank Scully and all his lucky stars that he’s here and alive, not dead in some ditch, or all alone in a hospital. His eyes find Scully and his mind stops racing. A smile breaks on his face, just watching her sleep. He shifts the tiniest bit closer to her, hoping she won’t wake. When she doesn’t stir, he wills himself to relax. His eyes watching her, he’s being pulled back to sleep, too.
“Why can’t we wake them?” Someone not too quietly whispers. “I want to see what Santa brought!”
“Shhh. Let them sleep a moment longer.” Another voice chimes in, more familiar and more mature. It must be Mrs. Scully.
“Huh?” Scully, who at some point during the night decided to use his chest as a pillow, wakes up and as soon as she realizes how close they are, she gasps. But she doesn’t move away. She glances at him, her mind playing catch up, and then she smiles.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Grandma, they’re awake!” Two Scully children exclaim and both Mulder and Scully turn towards the door where Mrs. Scully stands with the biggest grin on her face.
“You better hurry,” she says, chuckling. “These kids are in a hurry.”
“Aunt Dana and the fox are awake!” One of the children screams, running down the stairs.
“What time is it?” Mulder asks once they’re alone again.
“Early,” Scully replies with a yawn. “Too early. How’s your head?”
“Scully, why is your very Catholic mother not at all fazed that I’m in your bed?”
“I take it your head is better.” Her words don’t stop her from touching the bump on his head and he winces. “There’s not enough space with half my family here. Is your head not better? Do we need to go back to the hospital?” Her hand is still on his head, but now she’s cradling it.
“No. No, we don’t. You’re important to me,” he says, remembering saying the same thing to her last night. He wants to say it again. Needs to say it again. There are no painkillers in his blood. Even the adrenaline is gone. If she didn’t believe him last night, she cannot deny it this morning.
“You told me last night. Do you- do you remember what happened yesterday?”
“I know I said it last night,” he assures her. “I do remember what happened. Well, mostly. I know where we are, and I know who I am, and I know who you are. What else do I need? I just wanted to say it again so that you know I meant it.”
“Thank you, Mulder,” she says, blushing faintly. “I meant it, too.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” He grins at her, his head moving towards hers. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that they were supposed to get up and go downstairs where a plethora of Scullys wait for them. But what he really wants is to drink in Scully’s sleep-tousled hair, her make-up-free morning face full of freckles, and her inviting lips.
“Mulder,” she says, his name sounding like a murmur. Her eyes flicker to his lips, letting him know that she wants this, too. But before their mouths meet, his brain fires another word at him.
“Mistletoe,” he says, right before their lips meet. “We talked about mistletoe last night, didn’t we?” Scully chuckles, her eyes closing briefly.
“We did.”
“I still don’t know if there is any downstairs.”
“I think it’s time you find out.”
*
They draw all eyes to them when they enter Mrs. Scully’s living room. For a moment Mulder isn’t sure whether he’s seeing double. He’s never seen so many people for Christmas. They’re everywhere.
“Finally,” a kid says with a groan, crawling towards the tree and the presents there. Scully takes his hand, leading him toward the couch where her mother is sitting. Mulder feels several pairs of eyes bore into him. Most prominently Bill Jr.’s. He swallows hard, smiling at everyone else.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Scully says. “There really is not enough space here.” She motions to the couch and Mulder realizes she’s right. There’s just enough space for one more person. They can’t very well ask the old lady with her cup of tea to sit on the floor.
“I can, um, stand over there,” Mulder says, pointing. “It’s fine.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Scully says. “Dana can sit on your lap. Come on now,” she urges. “You’re going to miss all the fun.”
Mulder and Scully exchange a quick look. If they don’t sit down soon, they will make it worse. Though Mulder isn’t sure things can be worse now.
“Sit down,” Scully says, her voice soft. She touches his arm, letting him know it’s okay. This is at once a dream and a nightmare come true. But he sits down, the couch sinking under his weight. Mrs. Scully nods at him, smiling before she redirects her focus back to the children. The only person still watching them is Bill Jr. Mulder’s head is throbbing but he ignores it, waiting for Scully to sit on his lap. His Scully on his lap. She’s light as a feather, feeling just right sitting here. His arms go around her waist of their own volition. She leans against him, throwing him a quick smile. As he watches everyone tear through their presents, wrapping paper flying everywhere, he wonders if this is happening or a side effect of his concussion. Last night, he shared a bed with Scully. This morning, she’s sitting in his lap.
“This one’s for you, Dana.” Someone hands Scully a present and he rests his head on her shoulder to watch her unwrap it.
“What a beautiful scarf,” she says. “Thank you, Aunt Sylvia.”
“It’s from Santa,” one of the children reminds her.
“You’re right,” Scully says, laughing. “Thank you, Santa.” She turns around to look at Mulder, still smiling. He’s never seen her like this, like Dana. Being around her family grounds her, mellows her. She’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen her.
“Happiness looks good on you,” he whispers.
“It looks good on you, too,” she says, wrapping the scarf around him. It already smells like her and he doesn’t ever want to take it off. She’s right: he’s happy. It’s been more years than he can count since he’s felt this peaceful on Christmas.
“I know you had no choice,” Mulder says, his voice breaking. “But thank you for bringing me here.”
“I wanted you here, Mulder. I could have left you in the hospital.”
“I need to find that mistletoe,” he says. As much as he wants to kiss her – and do it right now – it might just be the last straw for Bill Jr.
“Look around,” Scully whispers, making him shiver all over. He does. His eyes scan the whole room and then, finally, he sees it. Mistletoe right by the window. He knew he could count on Mrs. Scully. Now all he has to do is be patient. He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, much to the delight of the other grown-up guests. He hopes they don’t know what he’s thinking about. But even if they do, he can’t care. Not tonight. Today he will receive the greatest Christmas gift he can imagine. He will get to kiss Scully.
*
In the end, it’s probably no more than an hour. To Mulder, it feels endless. The last present is unwrapped, the children are happy and playing with their toys, and the adults are refilling their coffees to stay awake and alert. Mulder doesn’t need caffeine. He’s thirsty for something else. But Tara has grabbed Scully by the arm and now the two women are in the kitchen while Mulder hangs around the mistletoe by himself.
“So you are Dana’s partner.” A woman approaches him, holding a plate with cookies. She offers one to Mulder and he politely takes one. “I’m her aunt. I’ve been very curious about you.”
“Hmm?” Is all he can say with his mouth full of cookie.
“Maggie told me all about you and Dana. She was hoping you’d be here. I love Dana, but these last few years,” she trails off, sighing. “It was obvious that there was always something missing. Someone missing. It was you. It’s good to see my favorite niece smile again. Don’t tell Bill Jr. I called Dana my favorite.” She winks at him and Mulder smiles, trying to process what he just heard. He doesn’t get much time, because Scully returns to the living room, walking towards him. He forgets everything else. There is no one else in this room but them. His head doesn’t hurt. The only reason his knees are weak is that Scully is smiling at him. She has a cup of coffee in her hand that she puts on the mantelpiece.
“Hi,” he says, his voice breathless.
“Hi.”
“I found mistletoe.”
“I see.”
“You know the tradition,” he says.
“I do. You should be glad Aunt Sylvia didn’t look up just now,” Scully says. “I think she might have a thing for you.”
“Hmm, too bad. I’m already interested in someone else.”
“Who?” Scully asks, but he steals the word from her lips. They meet in the middle with her on tiptoes and him slightly stooped. It starts out soft and gentle, a perfect first kiss. But when Scully’s fingers lock in his hair, all bets are off. He forgets that he shouldn’t be upright for longer periods of time. His knees buckle, but kissing Scully takes precedence over everything else.
“There are children present, for God’s sake.” It’s Bill’s booming voice that brings them back to the present, to Mrs. Scully’s house, and the various family members glaring at them.
“I’m, um, we- well.” Mulder tries to find words, but can’t. He wipes his mouth and Bill’s eyes narrow.
“The kids are not even paying attention,” Scully says. Everyone over the age of 12 is, however. Mulder has never seen so many women smile at him. He stands closer to Scully, knowing she’ll protect him.
“I said I’d try to be nice to him,” Bill says, looking him up and down. “But Dana, this is going too far.”
“It was one kiss, Bill.”
“Hey, don’t fight, please,” Mulder says, his headache returning with a vengeance. “I think I need to sit down anyway. I’m a bit dizzy.”
“I wasn’t thinking.” She throws Bill a dirty look and for a brief moment, the siblings battle a silent fight that Scully seems to be winning. She leads Mulder over to the couch where every Scully woman starts fawning over him. His very own Scully has her hand on his head, straightening the hair she mussed up. He grins, thinking about what happened mere moments ago. He wants it to happen again soon.
“He’s wearing lipstick,” Aunt Sylvia says, taking a sip from her coffee. “Looks good on him.” Somewhere Bill Jr. groans while everyone else laughs. Scully wipes the lipstick away with her thumb, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She’s not at all shy with him here, surrounded by her family. Even if she only does it to rile up her big brother, he doesn’t care. After all, he gets kisses. From Scully. He will never complain about that. Though he can’t wait to do this when they’re alone and Bill Jr. isn’t breathing down their necks. Quite literally.
“It really does look good on you,” she whispers, bringing him back to the present.
“Maybe I can wear it again later?” He asks, full of hope.
“Oh, you will be wearing it again later tonight, don’t worry,” she promises him.