Chapter Text
Sue's porch light was on, and for some reason that annoyed him. He'd told her he might stop by after work if he wasn't too tired. It hadn't been a definite thing, but he was there, tired and angry and probably not a person Sue would want in her house.
Before they'd left for Cape May, Kersh had made it clear he wanted them back in the office by Monday, and they were, mostly. After driving most of the morning, they'd snuck in after lunch, hoping Kersh wouldn't notice they were late. It was too much to hope for. Scully hadn't even gotten her coat off before they were summoned to the AD's office. The next hour was spent with Kersh glaring at them while he spelled out exactly how displeased he was.
Scully had taken it like a good soldier, but Mulder was getting tired of dealing with other people's disappointment in him. He'd debated whether or not to just go straight home and sulk, but he hadn't seen Sue in days and thought maybe she could cheer him up.
Ringing her doorbell, he noticed there was new pine wreath hanging on her door. He checked the date on his watch: November 30th. Apparently Sue was getting a jump on the holidays. Not even Scully put out her Christmas decorations this early.
The door opened with a whoosh and Sue threw herself into his arms. "Fox!"
For a moment, Mulder was worried he'd gotten the wrong half of Sue's duplex. That maybe the Sue that lived on this side called him by his first name and always made him pay for dinner.
"I'm so glad you're back!" Sue giggled, giving him a noisy kiss. "Look," she tugged on his hand, "I went Christmas shopping after I closed the shop today. I found the perfect thing for Adam!"
Mulder let himself be yanked inside and deposited on the couch while Sue chattered about all the stores she'd gone in. Dragging a huge white bag in front of the coffee table, she pulled out enough merchandise to put on a production of Titanic, giving him the full story and sale price of each gift. He tried to assume an audience-like demeanor, but got a headache instead.
"He'll love it," Sue was saying. "He spends most of his day at a computer, so--" She collapsed next to him on the couch. "Hey, how was your trip? Didja have fun?"
Sitting in his car, parked in front of her house, he'd wanted to come in here and tell her about his day. He'd wanted her to say "poor baby." He'd wanted the snuggling on the couch and the kissing on the ears and everything he'd been missing after coming home from one disappointing case after another and having no one to turn to. Now he just wanted to be alone. Sue was nibbling on his neck, and it only reminded him he had a matching nibble on the other side.
"Sue." He tried to push her away gently, but she clung to him, throwing a leg over his lap and pulling at his shirt collar. "Sue!"
She drew away, a hurt look in her eyes, her lip pouting just a little too much to be real. He was tired of her games, but mostly he was just tired, so he gave her a reassuring smile and turned his head to show her the bite mark on his neck.
"Oh, poor baby," she crooned. "Let me kiss it better." She moved to sit on his lap, but he scooted sideways and stood up before she could.
"I should probably be going," he said.
She pouted again, but this time it wasn't as pretty because she was frowning too and looked almost angry. "Mulder?"
"I'm just tired. I had a long nasty day." He put his hand out to her and wiggled his fingers. "Here, see me to the door."
Her pout increased. "I thought you were going to stay here tonight."
He knew just by looking at her that she wouldn't be impressed with rational things like laundry and fish-feeding and the fact he just wanted to be by himself and not be nibbled on. He sighed.
Sue made a frustrated sound. "I don't see why you can't just stay here."
Mulder scrubbed his face with his hands, really not in the mood for relationship maintenance tonight. "Sue--"
"I haven't seen you for days, and now you're leaving again," she accused.
"I'm just tired, okay?" He was using the same soothing voice he used on victims, children, and people with guns. It didn't appear to be working.
"Did I do something wrong?" she demanded.
"No." He shook his head. "I just need to go home."
"Fine," Sue sniffed.
"I'm going to go," he told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I'll talk to you later."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Sue just shrugged and gave him an angry look. Mulder let himself out.
*****
Someone had stuck a band sticker on Mulder's door months ago; Scully had noticed it for weeks before she'd asked Mulder's permission to peel the damned thing off, but there was still a sticky grey oval where it used to be, and four skinny strips of white paper that ran the length of the oval like claw marks. Scully scritched at one of them with a thumbnail, staring at the 42 and not knocking.
Because it was a Friday night and Sue could be in there. But more likely she wasn't, and Mulder wasn't either, he was off somewhere with her, and Scully should just slip this report under the door and go home and be done with it. She squished down the brad wings against the flap of the envelope, bending the file against her palm to get it as flat as possible.
Squatting, she poked a corner of the manila envelope under the door and let go, sliding the file under the door with a scratchy whoosh. Then she teetered on a heel getting up and grabbed for the doorknob, which turned of its own accord and slipped out of her hand as the door opened in. She fell back, sat on the ground and blinked up at Mulder's crotch.
He extended an arm down to her and she gripped her fingers around his forearm like a trapeze artist and struggled to her feet. Her stockings had caught on the floor and now had a run in them and her skirt was bunchy and had rotated several degrees west. She straightened herself out as well as she could, looked at Mulder and sighed.
"We got a fax."
Mulder picked up the envelope and opened it. "I see that," he said.
"I wasn't sure if you'd be home, but I wanted you to look at this."
"Did you knock?" he asked. "I was in the bathroom."
She swallowed. "Yeah," she said. "I figured you were out."
"Nope, not out," he smiled. "Are you coming in?"
She peered past him but his apartment just looked like his apartment, with the TV flickering and muted and two pieces of toast sweating on the coffee table. "Yeah, for a minute," she said. "Can I wash my hands?"
"No," Mulder joked, shutting the door, but she'd already walked past him and into the bathroom where he'd left the water running and the light on and there was hair in the sink.
"When did you get this?" Mulder called.
"It came about an hour ago." Scully scrubbed her hands like a surgeon, deliberately cleaning between each finger and pushing up her sleeves so she could get her forearms too. "You see what that says, there?" she called over the sound of running water. "Look at the thing at the top of that middle section. You can skip the first part."
It had come from the Jersey field office, the results of their investigation and the blood test from the creature that had attacked Mulder. Scully took a deep breath and dried her hands carefully before switching off the light, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.
When she came out Mulder was on the couch, eating a piece of toast and reading the report. She watched his face.
"So she was looking for a mate?" Mulder flipped back to the first page of the file and Scully thought for a second that he was avoiding looking at her.
"Likely that that's why she attacked you," Scully said.
"Everybody wants a piece of me these days," he muttered. She wondered if he included her in that everyone.
He finished his toast and looked up. "Thanks for saving me back then," he said. "Partner."
What he was really saying, she knew, was that it was okay that she'd shot the girl, that she shouldn't feel bad about it, that that's what any good G-woman would have done. She figured he didn't really think it would help any. "Sure," she said, trying to be cooperative and also wanting to sit down or go home or cry in the bath like a lady with bon-bons and candles and a small dog.
Mulder pursed his lips. "You want anything to drink?"
Scully stood up. "No, I'm okay," she said. "I should probably go."
"I've been catching up on all the scandal we missed," Mulder said, gesturing with his head at Chris Matthews on Hardball.
Scully sat down again and pushed her hands between her knees, warming the tips of her fingers. "My cable's out, actually. I haven't heard anything. What's happening?"
Mulder flipped channels, still muted. Bernard Shaw showed up on CNN with a monitor of Hillary Clinton giving a lecture to a room full of college girls. "She's talking about Eleanor Roosevelt," Mulder said. "And Bill passed a new standard for drinking water safety. That's the big news for today."
"Nothing on impeachment?" Scully asked.
"The hearings don't start until next week," Mulder said. "Just the same far-righters whining about the same things. Remember when this was about Whitewater and not about blowjobs?"
"Vaguely," Scully said, smiling. "Ken Starr is a lunatic."
"Want to watch?" Mulder asked, flipping back to CNBC.
Scully groaned. "No, but I will. I can at least take some comfort in the fact that I didn't follow the OJ thing."
"Give it up," Mulder said, unmuting the television, getting up and heading for the kitchen. "You're a rubbernecker like the rest of the country. I'm bringing you some coffee."
Coffee and toast at nine at night, Scully thought with a grin, listening to Chris Matthews interrogate a White House press corps member. Only Mulder. She caught herself looking down the hall where his bedroom was, and wondering if there was a bed in there now, if he'd started sleeping in there because this couch wasn't big enough for Sue too. She realized she was sick with jealousy that Sue had beaten her to it, to Mulder's couch or Mulder's bed or wherever it was where she got to sleep wrapped up in his arms. Instead of thinking about it, Scully swallowed hard and watched TV.
He came back with coffee, cocked his head toward CNBC for a minute, and said, "This is a rerun. I saw this yesterday."
A little mousy-haired woman was saying "Family Values" and Scully shushed Mulder. Chris Matthews shook his head and interrupted the mousy woman and a bald black man interrupted Chris. Somewhere in the world, the phone rang.
Mulder picked it up from the coffee table. "Yeah?" he said into the receiver.
Scully tried to listen to the overlapping voices on television but Mulder was saying "What, now?" and then sighing and sitting down on the arm of the couch. His hip was inches from Scully's ear and his pants squeaked against the leather.
She picked up the file and read the letterhead again. Mulder said, "Of course I do" and Scully didn't want to believe he did. She took a sip of coffee.
She felt something warm and heavy on the top of her head and it took a while to realize it was Mulder's hand, his weight balanced there as he tried to brace himself from slipping off the cushion. He flipped up the phone receiver and leaned in to Scully's ear, too close. "I'll be off in a minute," he said. He fell down into the couch, his back against Scully's shoulder and his knees hooked over the armrest.
She patted him on the back with her fingertips, gingerly, as if he were some strange animal she was trying to coerce into not killing her. He swung his legs around and sat on the couch, elbows on his knees and the phone pressed against his ear. "Of course I do," he said again, more convincingly this time and with a little laugh, but Scully thought he sounded tired. She got up.
"I'm gonna go home," she said, speaking low like someone might be sleeping.
"That's great," Mulder said. Scully wasn't sure if it was meant for her, but she nodded anyway and slid the fax back into its manila envelope.
"That's great, really," Mulder said again, but this time it was definitely to the phone. Scully slipped her shoes back on and looked for her bag. "I'm proud of you, Sue," Mulder said. "And impressed, too. Really."
"I'm gonna go home," Scully said again, louder. Mulder clapped a hand over the mouthpiece and looked up at Scully.
"You leaving?" he asked.
She was tired. "I'm tired," she said.
Mulder furrowed his brow. "Okay," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Tomorrow was Saturday and he probably wouldn't, but he was back on the phone now and his fingertips pressed valleys into his forehead. He looked old, and brown, and worried like leather. Scully fought the urge to kiss him on the head.
On TV, Chris Matthews said, "Are you serious?"
Scully looked at Mulder again. "Yeah," she said, and left.