Chapter Text
Fox Mulder had always felt different. From the way he presented himself – how he commanded a crowd and dealt with others, to the inflection in his voice when he spoke. His oddities even ran down to the way his ankles always stuck out in his dress pants. He could never seem to find any long enough, and tailoring was unaffordable with all the other expenses he’d rather indulge in. He pondered this as he cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth, pushing the shell out of his mouth with his tongue. It hit the desk with a soft clack, and he swept it into the trash with the back of his hand.
Scully had been getting on his case about the trash in his office. Mulder didn’t consider himself a slob, largely because he wasn’t, but also because a man should be able to do what he wishes with his own room without judgement. The dull grind of the metal trashcan scraping on the wooden floor resounded through the office as he put it back next to his desk. His sunflower seeds haphazardly tossed into the main drawer, only partially rolled up. He could hear the click of Scully’s heels as she approached the door. Only looking for a mild ass-chewing, he propped his feet up onto the desk, obscuring the file that he knew she’d be looking for.
He had a fondness for her agitation. Not that he enjoyed pissing her off, but he could tell she enjoyed the riffing. It was personal, intimate.
The doorknob turned, and Dana Scully stepped in on the left leg first. Mulder knew she was going to do this, as she did it every time she came into his office. She slinked around the corner like she was trying to keep her visit a secret, and shut the door softly behind her, checking the knob one more time before making her way over to him. The ritual amused him. She had been doing it for 2 years now.
“Do you have the…” she trailed off, her brows raised unamusedly at Mulder’s antics. She gently swatted at his dress shoes, and he folded his legs back in and under his desk like a grasshopper. The grin on his face seemed to stain it, as he couldn’t stop smiling at her, even when she wasn’t looking. She peeled the file off of his desk, catching his expression as she walked off and feeling the corners of her lips turn upwards.
“What’cha got, Scully?” Mulder teased, leaning forward in his chair as she set her belongings down by her computer. “A lead? Do I gotta come over?”
She held her hand up to cease his talking, and plopped herself down into the chair with a sigh. Her arms stretched upwards as she let out a low groan. When she had felt every bone in her upper body click into place, she worked on her fingers next, cracking each one individually. Mulder watched, almost in awe. When finished, she slumped over and dragged her face around to look at her work partner.
“Why did we take this case again?”
Mulder snickered. He used his desk as leverage to get himself up, letting his legs adjust to standing for a moment before sauntering over. His arms rested on the back of Scully’s chair, and he decided to take a peek at her computer screen before responding. She was starting her case report, the beginning part of it where she explained how much of a crackpot he was. The set-up to their years-long theological rivalry. Her opinion vs. his.
“Someone needed to, we're still the FBI,” Mulder cooed, waiting for her reaction. He hoped for something big, something clearly annoyed – but she only exhaled softly and tilted her jaw upward to get a better look at him. She looked a little tired, and he didn’t blame her for it. They had been on back-to-back cases, running all over the country for leads. Her makeup still looked nice, though. He noted the way her products leaned warmer today, as if she was overcompensating for a lack of it in her skin right now.
He had always wondered what the process was like, how it felt to drag the tubes across your face, how cold the product was or what he needed to make it look good on… Suddenly it was hard to lock eyes with her, and he turned to ensure his face didn’t catch fire.
“It’s not really an X-File though…” she complained, absentmindedly reaching her hand up to fidget with his suit lapels. He pursed his lips together into a dorky smile when she moved her body to look him in the eyes. Her upwards gaze made Mulder speak quieter. It was a soft command, a plea for him to be reasonable. He found great pleasure in ignoring these looks.
“Sure it is, abnormal kidnapping, secluded place in the woods, nutcase witnesses… it’s got it all, Scully. You aren’t excited to get out there tonight?” He released himself from her grasp, slowly circling around her chair like a shark. Scully scoffed, throwing her head back and leaving her mouth open for a few seconds, like she wanted to speak. Mulder waited for her response, but when she couldn’t think of something snarky to retort with, she picked herself up and pulled her hands forward to the keyboard.
He raised an eyebrow at her silence, dragging his fingers along the back of her shoulder blades as he passed by, back to his desk. He tugged at the drawer, tossing his bag of seeds back onto the wood for more snacking. Scully was used to the routine, he always cracked sunflower seeds when she wrote beginning reports. It was a way for him to collect himself, to really think about the case. That wasn’t what he was considering today, though.
Clack… clack… clack…
Gnawing at the shell, tearing the seed out of the splintering case, and spitting the discarded parts of the snack out onto his desk; he did all of this as he wondered about the way he lingered on Scully’s makeup. She did look beautiful, it was something he would never deny, but was it truly that special? No, it wasn’t an abnormal look, so what was it? Lately, he had been thinking about hypotheticals. It was eating him up inside today. A glance at the photo of his sister on his desk, another shell hitting the floor.
He had concluded years ago that Samantha was taken because of her sex. Her abductors, who he still believed to be aliens, took female subjects for artificial insemination. At least that’s what the documented reports said, what every abductee had stated on their record of the night they were returned back to Earth. He mulled it over in his mind constantly. The horror of it all, the fear one must feel knowing that their body isn’t theirs anymore. He could almost imagine the isolation.
Mulder knew that if Samantha were born different, she would still be here. Not in the stars, or in cold soil under a stone. Her isolation would be no longer. In an almost selfish way, he wished it had been him. Realistically, biologically, it could never be, and maybe that’s why he found himself so captivated by his coworker’s face. The thought of saving Samantha from her abduction always landed there, on powdered cheeks and bright-colored lips. Her features were lifted so carefully by her contour, so soft and feminine, something Mulder would rather be shot dead than say out loud to her; but it did make him think.
Would I be that pretty if I were a girl?
The sunflower seed shattered in his mouth, and he reflexively stuck his tongue out to brush the small bits out. He reached for his trashcan again, bending over to spit out what remained in his mouth. A quiet groan escaped him as he crumpled the bag of seeds in his hand, tossing it out over the destroyed shell. Scully peered over at him, her brows furrowed with concern. Frustrated, he got up another time to treat the can to a good kick.
He felt static reverberating in his head as he left his desk. Some air would do him good, he decided, and rushed to put his suit jacket on. He turned his face away from Scully as he checked his pockets, then bent to swipe at the ends of his pants. He swore the pair he was wearing was bigger when he bought them. A cold breeze tickled his ankles, still. It was almost embarrassing at this point. It was still warm outside at this hour, but just in case his arms got cold too, Mulder threw on another coat over top of his suit.
“You ready to get going yet?”
Scully pressed another few keys before responding to him.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she sighed, exasperated from all of the professionalism in setting up a work report. “But I still have a few more notes to type up. I would appreciate a little patience, Mulder.”
“We don’t have the time for patience. Giddy up!”
“What?” Her voice raised a pitch. She checked the time on her computer, then double-checked with the analog above the desk. No, they had enough time. There was more than enough time. Her stalling to get up made Mulder anxious. He moved towards her, fidgeting; fixing the sleeves on his coat so they laid flat.
He swung over to usher Scully out of her chair. His nagging taps on her shoulder made her snap her head back to him, like she was an animal ready to bite. He knew she wouldn’t do anything like that. Not to him. Instead she stared, her brows pointed as down as they could go when speaking to her favorite spook, her lips upturned into an exhausted half-snarl. She grumbled in protest, but Mulder kept scooting her away from the computer. Her arms dropped limp at her side in protest as he picked up her coat for her.
“I’m going to have to finish that later now, because of you,” she whined, immaturely. His insistence on leaving now struck her as odd. He had never really been the ‘rushing her out the door’ type, and so she wanted to stay to diagnose the issue. She turned to shove her arms through the tunnels in the coat, looking up at Mulder while she fixed the way it sat on her shoulders. His brows were still furrowed, and he stared blankly at the wall, seemingly lost in thought. When she tapped his side to let him know she was done, he found his way to the door in a drift, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing.
She tried to subtly step in front of him, halting in the doorway and turning back to look at him. She pressed herself into the doorway, squeezing between the door to block the gap.
“Mulder, are you feeling alright?” She questioned. He tilted his head at her, then gently pushed her shoulder. It didn’t move as much as he wanted it to, and Scully watched his feet shuffle, antsy.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, “Are you going to move?”
As much as he tried to scoot around her, she refused to let him pass, planting her feet firm on the ground. She kept her eyes focused on his the whole time, waiting for him to give a real answer. His pupils darted back and forth, clearly trying to avoid her gaze. She noticed how he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking for an opening. When Mulder realized that he wasn’t going to be let through normally, he reached his hand out to pinch Scully’s ear. He tugged, and she gasped when he made contact – more because of his audacity rather than the pain, allowing him to brush past her and through the hall.
Rubbing at her ear, she heard his feet come to a stop close by, waiting for her to follow. Despite his best efforts, Mulder’s childish actions didn’t make her forget about the way he pushed her out of the office, like he had hoped.
Scully now wondered even more about what the hell could be bothering him so much. The thought of his nervousness pressed against her brain like a heavy stone, the scene of him shifting his eyes to look elsewhere painted vividly in her mind. His roughhousing left her in a worse, blatantly more irritated state, bothered by how much work she’d now need to complete cooped up in a hotel room… if the hotel had a computer for her. She readjusted her skirt, tugging it back down to where it belonged.
“What’s with you today, huh? You rush me out of the office like we’re running late, meanwhile our flight’s in 4 hours,” she waved the file around as she spoke, appreciating the familiarity of his hand on her lower back after all of that fuss. He did it to guide her through the building, as if she was new to the job. She considered it as his way of saying sorry… Still, she continued, “I mean, seriously Mulder, what are we going to do at an airport for that long? Did you think that through before you decided to act like such a jackass?”
The truth was: He really didn’t know what he was up to, or why he felt the need to get her and himself out of there so quickly. The buzzing of his thoughts drove him mad, and he only knew that he needed a minute – some time away from the office and from his own head. It made sense to him. The office had to be what was causing his distress.
He shook his head, dismissing her question. He didn’t look back to check where she was like he normally did. Scully being out of his sight was for the better right now. She watched him take big strides to the elevator, pushing ahead of her to catch the door. When she had entered, he pushed in the button for the main lobby and assumed his usual “waiting for the next floor” position – a hand in his pocket, one cocked leg, and an arm resting up against the corner in the wall. Scully stood beside him, enjoying her place under his arm.
In the silence that chased the elevator door’s close, Mulder had a chance to rethink his previous train of thought. All of the effort he took to banish it from his mind became fruitless as the fog of his overthinking clouded his mind.
There was no real reason to ponder being a woman; it was a selfish fantasy of his, an imaginary world where he would’ve kept his sister… and if he sat around all day and dwelled on what shade of lipstick would look best against his complexion, he’d get no work done. It’s not like that was an important part of his hypothetical anyway. He just wanted to know what she’d turn out like. What he’d turn out like.
If he were to pause, and change everything about himself; give up what made his identity as unique to him as his own fingerprints, and become a woman – would that satisfy him? He couldn’t change his birth, but if he could fix the error now… Would whatever forces that stole his sister from his home stop, stare, and take him instead? Or would he just be a girl, now more isolated than ever, and without Samantha to share the burden of loneliness?
With the way he wondered about this, Mulder truly began to believe that he’d be happier as a girl.
It wasn’t the most heinous thing to think of, he could easily dream up something worse, but the thought of it made his stomach turn. Why now, of all times, did this have to cross his mind? Queasy, he coughed into his hand, expecting bile to turn up in his closed fist. Instead, he looked aside to see Scully’s genuine, caring stare.
She had a way of looking at him that bothered him greatly. Her eyes were as pale as ice, yet nothing about the stare felt cold. Her eyelids fell slightly, like she was sleepy – or maybe they were just showing that she’s so comfortable she could fall asleep, and her brows let go of the arch they tend to keep. It was the look of a medical doctor, a distant coworker, a concerned friend. Despite the intent, it made him feel worse, because he could only feel his body heat up when she did it.
The sickeningly sweet rush of catching Scully’s gaze mixed with the slurry of emotions he felt about his own body brewed a potion of deep unease within him. He felt the tips of her fingers brush against his side, a comforting touch in a sea of disgust. It made the clouds clear from his head just long enough for him to realize she was waiting for an indication that he was still alive.
He sat with the uncomfortable quiet of the elevator for a moment before smiling at her. It showed her that he was okay, and performing the action helped banish the thoughts of being anybody else from his mind. Scully smiled at him, then looked down at her shoes. Her soft expression snapped him out of his daze for now.
He was Fox Mulder, and he had grown into the name over his years at the FBI. As much as he missed his sister, he wouldn’t want to be known as anybody else. Scully liked him like this, anyways – he could tell from her gaze. He wouldn’t want to let her down now.
Looking at her, he could see she wasn’t fully convinced of his state of being. Her grin was friendly, but there was still irritation in her posture, and it showed itself in the way she gripped the side of her arms while she waited. Mulder shifted his legs again, repositioning himself to be leaning against the rail.
Ding!
“Long ride,” he remarked, knowing that the ride only felt long to him, because he was in his own head the whole time. It earned a sympathetic smile from Scully. He swallowed to keep what felt like vomit down in his throat. Usually, her facial expressions don’t make him feel this way, and his eyes never lead themselves to her lipstick this often. Unnerved, he carried on further, seeking the nearest exit of the building.
He pushed the doors wide open to reveal a soft breeze. It was warmer outside than it was inside, but the wind still carried a calming chill. It soothed him, the cold clinging to his face like a web. He took a deep inhale, hoping to settle into a relaxed state. His hands sought his pockets as he walked, his gait still large – like he was walking fast to avoid something. His self-soothing technique didn’t help.
Scully watched and took note, fixated on the way his facial expressions danced on his face. His brows were tightly knit together, like he was being interrupted internally. A frustrated red painted his cheeks as he marched to the car. She placed her hands on her hips for a moment, her large coat folding to consider the weight of her palms. They seemed to disappear in the fabric as she strutted behind him.
In her attempt to process everything that had happened before the elevator ride, she forgot she had to walk alongside Mulder. She had slowed down, and he was paces ahead now.
“Mulder!” she almost pleaded at him, now having to put extra effort into catching up. He stopped, digging his heels into the concrete to completely halt himself.
“Oh, sorry,” he took a hand out of his pocket to swipe at his slicked back hair. He didn’t need to, the gel he used kept it perfectly in place, but he was compelled to have something to do with his hands. When she hurried past him, he reached his fingers out to touch her shoulder. She kept walking, welcoming the sudden affection after his cold display. Mulder’s bureau rental wasn’t far ahead.
When they walked together, she always noticed that he liked to bend himself down to match her height. Not fully, he was much too large for that, but there was an obvious slump to his walk. It seemed more exaggerated today, like something was weighing him down, making him physically keel over.
Her boot launched gravel across the pavement when she stopped next to his car, waiting for Mulder to unlock the door. Usually, she just climbed in herself. She didn't need him to open the door for her, and she found waiting for a man to open the door to be a waste of time. Today, however, he leaned over her shoulder to reach for the handle. With a pull, it came open, and she snuck a quick glance at him before ducking into the passenger’s seat.
Mulder took his sweet time going around the car. As Scully was just getting comfortable in her seat, he peeled off his coat and launched it at her lap. She squeaked, then slapped his arm with the sleeve as he fit himself into the vehicle, perfectly positioned like a tetris block. You had to be when you’re that big.
“Cut it out and start the car,” she groaned, stretching her legs one last moment as he fumbled with the adjustments on the seat.
“Thought you wanted me to take my time. You seemed pretty adamant about it earlier,” he teased, now deliberately moving slower. Another thwap struck his eardrum as the coat sleeve made impact with his arm again. He actually couldn’t wait to be on the road, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the way he moved. There was just nothing more rewarding to him than spending a little extra time with his work partner. She kept his mind off things; it’s hard to contemplate nagging thoughts when you’re being slapped with your own coat.
His hand reached for the stick shift, and he pulled the car into drive. While his hand was there, he made sure to tune into the radio. It crackled at first, then the static faded into a station with another turn of the dial. There was an NBA playoffs game tonight, Knicks vs. Bulls. He prayed to anybody who would listen for good cable at their hotel.
While he fidgeted with the stations, Scully rustled around for a map. She had left hers in the basement office, but trusted that Mulder had one with him. Though, she didn’t see one in the car…
“Where’re our directions?” She questioned, now checking the glove compartment. It was his turn to hit her with the sleeve, gently smacking her leg before pulling a folded map from the coat’s pocket. Feeling her face get hot, she grabbed it and used reading the wide paper as an excuse to hide her face. It was increasingly turning the same color her hair does when the sun hits it just right – bright red. The embarrassment sat with her like sediment at the bottom of a river as Mulder pulled out of his parking spot.
The drive to their hotel took four hours, and Scully spent most of it with her face out the window, examining every building they passed on the way. The rest of the time she spent napping. Mulder’s rhythmic drumming on the steering wheel lulled her to sleep, and after passing the “Welcome To Pennsylvania” sign, he reached over to wake her up. With a gentle tap from the back of his hand, she uncurled, rubbing the spot on her shoulder where he touched.
“Mmmmnnnwhat?...” she grumbled, moving her head just enough to let it plop onto her other shoulder. She now had a great view of Mulder.
He was focused on the road, one hand moving the wheel and the other reaching to her hair. She thought he looked especially marvelous in the gentle glow of the sun. Keeping his gaze focused ahead, he took one of the strands of her hair and curled it around his finger, then pulled to release the coil. He took the pause of a red light to look at his partner, his gaze immediately softening once he saw her sleepy face.
“We’re almost there. Figured you’d want a snack or something before we walk into our crime scene,” he whispered, like she was still asleep next to him. It took her a while to register his words, focused instead on his pale green eyes. They were gentle, resting on her face before flicking back to her hair. His hand movements matched as he took another piece between his fingers and curled it to frame her face. She let out a light giggle.
“Uh… yeah, sure, I’d like that. Where are we headed?” She lifted herself up in her seat, readjusting her posture and rubbing her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and blinked rapidly to shoo away the tiredness. It had seeped into her bones, and she took the time to shake it out.
“Convienence store. I gotta get some gas,” Mulder grinned, then turned back to Scully. “Unless you wanna go somewhere different?”
He said it playfully, moving his hand to tap at her knee. His shoulder bumped into her upper arm, lightly jostling her in her seat. Another laugh escaped her lungs, and she lifted her arms up to stretch them out. She grabbed his wrist after, moving his hand back into his lap and off of her leg.
“No, no. I just want some coffee.”
He nodded, and made his next turn into the gas station lot. Pulling up next to the pump, he shifted the car into park, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the car. Scully followed without hesitation, waiting by the trunk.
Leaned against the pump, he dug deep into his pocket, and unearthed his wallet from a mountain of gum wrappers and sunflower shells. They fell and clattered to the pavement as he pulled out a ten dollar bill. Mulder felt a groan rise from his lips, and she watched him kick the trash away from his feet. He briefly paused before thumbing out another five dollars in ones, giving a small jerk of his head, gesturing for Scully to come over.
“Here. Tell them to put ten on pump three, and…” he stuffed the extra five dollars into her blazer’s pocket, taking extra care to crumple the bills as much as he could. “You take this. Get your coffee, and something for me if anything catches your eye. I want a real surprise.”
He snapped, then pointed beyond her shoulder, to the store behind her. She scoffed at the twinkle in his eyes. Scully resented the way the corner of his lip shot up into a smirk when he spoke, but couldn’t help herself from sporting a grin. It was unfortunate that she found him so charming, because she’d really like to inform him about how much of a douche he is.
“You’re alright out here by yourself?”
She had moved a few steps ahead before asking. When she turned back to ask, she tilted her head – desperate to gauge what he was thinking. Mulder pulled a stupid face at her, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his eyes before settling them back on the pump.
“It’s just the gas station parking lot. I’ll be fine. Nothing bad ever happens in a gas station parking lot,” he joked, wiping his hands across his belt to check his holster.
He wasn’t worried about anyone approaching him, and if they did, they’d eat bullets like it was their first meal in years. His anxieties came from something else, but Scully didn’t need to know that right now; and know she didn’t as she carried on forward without protest.
It was late now, and the sky was starting to reveal the golden summer glow it gains when the sun sets. It was the middle of May, and because of it Mulder felt grateful that the air wasn’t too cold. He shifted his feet around, spinning in slow circles as he watched a Scully-shaped blob order from the register inside the convenience store. He could only decently make out her hair, which stood bold against the white background of the store’s painted walls. He had always been jealous of how nice it looked, though he’d never want to go red; he just occasionally thought about how long and soft it became after a while.
He lifted his hand to drag his fingers through his hair once again, smoothing a stray piece out of his face. He felt an unmistakable disappointment when his hand combed through all of what’s on his head. Is that really all there is? He swore he had grown out some more from the last time he got it cut. Before he could get tangled in thoughts of his hair, he caught a glimpse of Scully’s wave from the corner of his eye. She gave him a very blurry thumbs up, signifying to him that the pump was on and he could finally put the gas in the car now.
He lifted his hand to acknowledge her, then unholstered the pump from the machine. His swooping, exaggerated turn to the car made the keys fall from his pocket. He cursed, bending down to pick them up. The jingle as he stuffed them back in his pants taunted him, irritating him further.
He would much rather be inside the store, picking out snacks from the shelves by Scully’s side, but instead he was out here kicking rocks. He sighed, letting all of the air out of his body in an attempt to calm himself. The thought of making Scully come outside to do a man’s job while he shopped made him feel worse.
He paused the continuation of that thought to pull open the tank lid, leaving his head clear long enough for him to comprehend the errors in that statement. That wasn’t why he was doing this instead of Scully. She was his passenger, he shouldn’t make her pump gas regardless. “Man’s job” or not, he wasn’t going to make his friend fill his car. Not that she wouldn’t – Scully would fill his gas for him any day if he needed it – and she had before. It just wasn’t her turn.
Scully did lots of traditionally masculine things anyways; it would be unfair to subject her to more of it. It was enough for her to have to share an office with mostly men, and to still put in the effort to be as feminine as she is.
It takes a lot of effort to do that, doesn’t it? It’s a lot of effort, being a woman. Especially a woman in their field. He’d seen what she wore in the office, and how she touched up makeup in his rental millions of times, right before or after a case. She had to take extra care into her appearance, and her clothes were tailored closer to her figure, while his laid loose across his body like a draping fabric.
Sometimes Mulder thought about what it’d be like if it were swapped, if he had to experience even a fraction of what she does. Would he have it in him to do all of that, every day? Wear a little pink, curl his hair, and stain his lips red for a day? It seemed ridiculous, time-consuming, and obnoxious – but maybe he’d change his mind if he actually was a girl.
He loosened his grip on the pump for a moment, letting the hypothetical wash over him. It was cold, chilling him to the core, but strangely familiar. He hadn’t bought a new suit in a long time, but if he were a girl… well, he’d have to go get new ones, right? Or would he just stick with what he had? Would skirts inch their way into his wardrobe, or would he always prefer the gentle embrace of tailored pants?
A shiver ran up his spine, making the thought feel icy on his shoulders. The small jolt from the shock snapped him upright, away from his daydream.
He wondered why he was so caught up on this – wondered so much that he lost himself in thought, making the wrong step and hitting his foot against the tire of the car. It did nothing to harm the rubber, but Mulder still growled at himself. The pressure in his head built up, making him passionately jam the nozzle into the car’s fuel tank. He squeezed the handle as hard as he could. The aggressive tapping of his foot created a rhythm that warded off all the thoughts that invaded his mind, until he had to wait for the gasoline to pump. He stepped back to ground himself, and his shoes crushed sunflower shells under him.
He needed to stop this girl thing. There was no point in mourning a life that he never once led. There was nothing to consider, nothing to change. Even if there was a way he could go back, a way he could alter himself to save Samantha, would he want to do it? Is that truly why he was so obsessed with womanhood? Did he want to be a girl because of her?
He made up his mind immediately, refusing to let his brain linger on the possibility. No, he didn’t want to be anybody else. He, Fox Mulder, was an accomplished agent, and Fox Mulder was determined to solve this case without more mental interruption.
Mulder pulled the nozzle out, hanging it back up on the machine and walking back to the driver’s seat. He took a moment to squeeze the grip of the stick, collecting himself before he moved the car into drive once again. It was time that he truly focused. If he jeopardized this case because his head was in the clouds… He just couldn’t bear it. It would be devastating, for both him and his work partner. He grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat, tugging it over his arms just in time for Scully’s arrival.
She grinned, pushing her nose against the glass while he fumbled for the keys. With a click, the door was unlocked, and she barreled inside.
“Jeez– careful, Scully. You almost knocked the car over. What’d you get?” he began poking around in the bags she brought in. Looked like a lot of chocolate, which is something she expected from her. She rustled in her coat and pulled out two packages. One he recognized very well.
“You looked like you were low,” she said as she tossed a small bag of Spitz sunflower seeds at him. He chuckled, catching the bag and making a small tear in it for him to rip into later. She waited for him to look up, her lips pursed, eyes glittering with delight. She unfolded a bright pink bag from her hand, a pack of just strawberry Laffy Taffy. He paused, waiting a second before reaching his hand out to grab them. His face was expressionless.
“You said you wanted a surprise. I used to love these as a kid. I thought maybe you’d get a kick out of them,” she smiled in an attempt to soothe him, noticing his discomfort. The way he was acting lately worried her. It felt like everything she did was negatively affecting him in some way. Maybe he was just in a bad mood – maybe the taffy would make him feel a little better, if he gave it a try. She watched him squeeze the package and give it a rough shove into his coat pocket. His face was obscured for that moment, but when he looked back at her, he was smiling wide. Relief crashed into her like a typhoon. She had never been so grateful to see him grin.
Mulder felt his stomach churn once more when she giggled, his hands getting clammier as he settled back into his seat.
Pink.
It was just a coincidence, right?
“Thanks, Scully,” he replied, now focused on the road ahead of them. He kept both hands on the steering wheel to pull out of the lot, then lifted one from the control to tap her leg again once he was on the road. Figuring he wanted the map, she quickly unfolded it and began reading off instructions. He closed his eyes for a moment to fully digest where she was telling him to go. He knew their hotel was close by, and could probably brute force the route, but he didn’t feel like thinking right now.
When he was in his room, he could watch the Knicks game, and they’d win. It’d make him feel better, he decided.
The series of events played out in his head like a tape on repeat. Get out of the car, get the luggage to the room, lay down and relax, watch the Knicks. It became the only thing he allowed himself to think of, operating on autopilot. The warm lights of the hotel sign only strengthened how he felt. He didn’t speak to Scully as he opened the car door, popping the trunk to get their suitcases.
It wasn’t out of malice, she knew that. He was in a rush, and she followed him quickly, staying close. Her hands snatched her baby blue case from the back before he shut it, and she came to a stroll behind him, not daring to impede his path.
He pushed the door open, holding it for an extra second as she hurried inside, then leaned against the main desk. He set his keys down on the counter, and they clattered like cymbals against the finish. It seemed like no matter how gentle he tried to release them, they always made unnecessary noise. Within seconds of their arrival, a receptionist came rushing in, apologizing for the delay.
“Reservation for uh, Mulder?” He asked, tapped his foot against the carpet. Scully resumed her place next to him, pulling her suitcase in front of her and squeezing the handle. She looked up at him, once again trying to analyze what he was thinking. He glanced at her, raised his eyebrows, and nodded; she wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and was confident that he didn’t know either.
He had a lot of quirks, things he did to fill up the empty space between conversations. Sometimes he hummed, or made nonsensical noises while he glanced at his watch. Other times they were little taps on her arm, or silly facial expressions. Scully always paid attention to them. They were things she’d miss if he switched it up, things she’d miss if he changed. It comforted her now that despite his bad mood, he kept the ridiculous antics up.
Behind the thick wall he constructed, he was still Mulder, and that relieved her.
She gave the back of his suit a good tug, trying to get him to look her way again – to ask what was wrong once more. He shook his head to show his disinterest as the receptionist checked his ID, then handed him the keys to their rooms. He squeezed them in his hand before shaking them in front of Scully, taking pleasure in her familiar annoyed expression.
Mulder began his journey to their rooms, but paused when he realized his partner wasn’t following.
“Don’t you wanna know where you’re sleeping tonight?” He joked, once again jingling her keys. She huffed and tilted her head, staring at her jackass before rolling her eyes and joining him in the hallway. She drifted from his side, walking on the other side of the hall. It was her ploy to get him to talk. She knew he couldn’t stand her being away from him for too long, and her theory was solidified by the way he would glance at her from the corner of his eye.
Her plan spoiled though, which is something she could’ve never predicted. Mulder brought them to their rooms without a single stray bat of his eyelashes. The silence remained between them as he handed her the keys to the room next to his, patting her gently on the back before turning the lock to his bed for the night.
Mulder sighed hard as he shut the door behind him, keeping the lights dim as he fidgeted with the tie around his collar. He tugged it down to the floor, kicking his shoes off with it. Flopping onto the bed, he began his search for the TV remote. It didn’t take long for him to locate it, a matter of seconds passing before the correct channel was on.
He had tuned in just in time. Game four of five, the Knicks were neck-and-neck with the Bulls. Mulder didn’t bother with getting the rest of his clothes off, or actually climbing into the bed; his eyes were glued to the screen, to the way his team rushed around the court. With a sight like that, it was hard to think of anything else other than winning.
Mulder believed he had won today. It was time to give the team in his head a break from all the overtime, thinking about pointless issues. There was a case tomorrow, one that he’d need to be alert for. His hands instinctively reached for the bag of sunflower seeds in his pocket. He had enough energy to make the tear into the snack, but his eyes shut faster than the rest of his body could move. His arms fell limp at his sides, letting the bag slide out of his jacket.
The rustling of seeds sliding off the neatly-made sheets was Mulder’s lullaby as he found himself drifting off to sleep. For now, he didn’t need to worry about cleaning – or anything else, like hypotheticals or Scully.
His dreams whispered to him like a quiet siren, and he followed obediently. Letting his body sink into the mattress, he fell asleep to the sounds of basketballs hitting against polished floor.