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Scully hates these conferences.
She hates the forced small talk, the egotistical panelists, the dull subject matter. The condescending looks when she reveals she’s a federal agent rather than a fully practicing medical doctor (and that’s before they even learn what department she works for).
She hates not having Mulder at her side, passing her notes and making inappropriate jokes and being altogether endearingly distracting.
It’s still new, this thing between them. Unnamed and undefined, as if acknowledging it would make it disappear somehow.
Still, she’s surprised at how much she misses him. How intensely. It’s been a long, lonely week. She only spoke to him a few hours ago and she still considers calling him when her plane lands, just to hear his voice. She thinks back to their earlier conversation, telling him her flight was delayed and not to pick her up from the airport. He protested, of course, but she knows he’s been stuck in the office until the early hours of the morning the past few nights and he needs his rest. Doctor’s orders.
Still, when she lands, she’s disappointed that he’s actually listened to her for once. She shakes off the feeling and heads for her car service, ready to go home. The entire time she was stuck in the airport, all she could think about was getting to sleep in her own bed. But now that she’s getting closer to Georgetown, she has second thoughts. She didn’t sleep well in the hotel. Part of it was the unfamiliar setting and the poor quality bedding. But more than that, it was cold. Empty. It’s still new, but she’s gotten used to strong arms holding her close at night. Soft snoring gently in her ears. A steady heartbeat and solid warmth beside her. She suspects that if she goes back to her apartment, she’ll sleep just as poorly as she did in the hotel.
So acting on impulse (god, he really is rubbing off on her), she asks the driver to take her to Alexandria. Now that she’s made the decision, she can hardly wait to see him again after so long apart. It’s 1 am when she gets dropped off at his building, so she gently knocks on the door. She’s a little surprised when he doesn’t answer, but assumes he actually did listen to her and is sleeping. She lets herself in with her key, and then she’s really surprised when he’s not home. Not on the couch, not in the bathroom, not in the new bed they’ve gotten to know so well recently. She’s baffled, and at this point concerned. Knowing Mulder’s propensity to go looking for trouble (and find it), she calls his cell, her heart in her throat until he picks up.
“H’lo?” He mumbles, voice thick with sleep, and Scully is relieved. But that relief quickly turns into confusion, and then to fear. She woke him up, but he’s not in his bed. So where is he? A sudden, irrational fear grips her, that he’s found someone else’s bed to share in her absence. She doesn’t think he would do that to her, but she can’t shake the thought.
“Mulder? Did I wake you up? I tried your apartment but…” She trails off, afraid to let her insecurity seep into her voice.
“Hmm, yeah, I wanted to wait up for you but I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t hear the phone. Where are you, your flight land ok?”
Scully’s heart sinks in her chest at the lie. Stupid, she thinks to herself, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. Here she is, coming to his apartment like a lovestruck fool, and he’s already found another bed to sleep in. She’s mortified and just wants to get off the phone without him hearing her heartbreak.
“It was fine, I just got to my apartment. Look, I’m really tired so I’m just gonna go to sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She rushes through the words and hangs up, wanting to lick her wounds in peace. Not even 10 seconds later, her phone buzzes again. Mulder.
Annoyed now, she picks up and lets out a frustrated, “What?”
She’s met with Mulder’s confused voice on the other line. “Um, Scully? Where are you?”
“I already told you, I’m at my apartment, Mulder. I just want to go to bed, ok?” She snaps at him.
“Do you have a second apartment I don’t know about or something?”
“Mulder, what are you talking about?” She really thinks she might cry, anger and confusion and despair roiling around in her chest.
“Scully, what are you talking about? I’m at your apartment and you’re not here.”
It takes her a moment to process. “You’re. You’re at my apartment.”
“Yes, Scully, and you’re not. Where are you?” Now it’s his turn for frustration to lace his voice.
Two seconds ago, Scully thought she might burst into tears. Now, she bursts into laughter, giddy and delirious from exhaustion and the whiplash of the past few minutes. She finally composes herself enough to put Mulder out of his confused misery.
“Mulder, I’m at your apartment. I came straight here from the airport. I wanted to surprise you.”
She starts laughing again at the absurdity of the situation, and this time Mulder joins in.
“I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t want to wait to see you so I came to your apartment to be here when you got home.”
“What a pair we make,” she tells him, fondness evident in her voice.
“Well, you know what they say about great minds.”
Her chest aches again, this time with longing. “I missed you,” she whispers, as if it’s a secret. As if she’s not talking to a federal agent, a profiler no less. As if he doesn’t know her better than she knows herself.
“I missed you too,” he softly replies. “Come home.”
Home. Where he is. What a concept.
“I’d love to. But I don’t have a car.”
She laughs at the groan that comes through the receiver.
“Shit, I forgot about that. Ok, I’ll be there in 20.”
She can already hear him shuffling around her apartment to get out the door.
“Drive safe, Mulder. I’ll see you soon.” This time when she hangs up, she’s smiling.
15 minutes later, he comes through the door and pulls her in for a deep kiss. “Welcome home,” he whispers when he pulls away, and she grabs him in a tight embrace. She doesn’t let go for a long, long time. They finally make their way to the bed where they collapse, exhausted.
It’s the best sleep she’s had all week.