The Breakfast Club

AUTHOR: bcfan
CONTACT: bcfan@shaw.ca
CLASSIFICATION: M/S UST
SPOILERS: post Amor Fati
NOTES at the end.
SUMMARY: Nurturing a relationship - one breakfast at a time.



Monday was two bagels in a brown paper bag with a side of orange juice.

Scully smiled as she heard Mulder shuffle to the door. When he opened it - sleepy eyed and rumpled in t-shirt and sweats, trying to hide his bemusement, she stopped smiling and blinked back concern. He'd obviously forgotten why she was there.

"Hi, Mulder. How're you feeling?"

"Okay." He lightly touched the bandages above his temple.

"We're leaving for the doctor's appointment in a few minutes. I know you're not supposed to take your medication on an empty stomach, so I brought breakfast."

"Oh. Thanks." He gestured her inside, wandered to the bathroom.

Scully heard water running. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a plate and a knife, found his medicine on the counter, then brought everything back to the coffee table.

She rapped on the bathroom door. "Mulder, would you like cream cheese or butter?"

"Huh?" Mulder stuck his head out the door, toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Cream cheese or butter on your bagels? I brought both."

"Plain is fine. I'm not very hungry."

Scully's sharp eyes couldn't miss his bruised eyes and thin fingers, but she bit her teeth against a doctor's lecture, chose a mild comment. "The bagels are fresh."

Mulder pulled out his toothbrush and smiled. "Sounds good."

He buttoned his shirt as he emerged from the bathroom, sat down on the sofa to tie his running shoes. Mulder gestured to the plate.

"Care to join me?"

"No thanks, I already ate."

Mulder nodded, washed down his meds with orange juice, then stood with a bagel in his hand.

"Next time, Scully."

*

Tuesday was a double order of poppy seed muffins and decaf lattes.

Scully brushed an invisible wrinkle on her suit, knocked twice on Mulder's door. She refused to analyse her impulsive decision to check on him before work.

"Breakfast, Scully?" The corners of his mouth lifted as he pointed to the bag. "If you're going to bring food, come on in."

She followed Mulder to the coffee table, watched the stretch of his back and set of his shoulders through his thin shirt. His solid physicality - so close to being lost. Scully's hand was steady as she divided up their breakfast, but she felt a slight tremor on the inside. So close.

Mulder swallowed two pills with his latte, grabbed his muffin and took a bite. "This tastes great."

"I'm glad you like it. Do you have any plans for today?"

He shrugged and rubbed his chin, gave her a pirate's leer from a whiskered face and spiky hair, which stood in disarray above his turban of bandages.

"Take a shaving vacation. Surf the net. Knicks are on t.v. later. Good times."

Mulder stretched his arms above his head, muffin crumbs clinging to his stubble. As he relaxed, one arm found its way behind Scully's back, and he patted her shoulder once, lightly.

Scully stopped herself from leaning into Mulder's touch. She took a deliberate sip of her latte and nibbled at her muffin while mock complaining about an office full of paperwork.

*

On Wednesday, the door was unlocked. Scully heard Mulder's shouted, "Come in," before she had time to knock.

She'd been dreaming of Missy when she woke, and had stopped at an organic market. Her sister had spent years preaching a health food rap, and there was no doubt in Scully's mind that Mulder needed feeding up with healthy food. It was only logical. Proper nutrition would lead to a quicker recovery.

Mulder gazed up curiously from his spot in front of the t.v. "Watcha got?"

"I'm cooking this morning, Mulder. Do you have a toaster?"

"Of course. This place has all the accoutrements of civilized dining."

Scully stepped into the kitchen. "Where is it?"

Mulder squeezed around her and crouched low, fishing with long arms in the back of a bottom cabinet. "Ta da." He held up an avocado clunker from the 1970s, covered in grime.

He stood and dusted the top with the hem of his shirt, set it on the counter. "Do you need any help?"

"No thanks. I have something in mind."

A nod. "Can you drop by before work tomorrow, Scully? I'll organize breakfast."

Scully smiled. "Sounds good."

She waited until Mulder wandered back into the other room before starting. Scully admitted to herself that she was nervous about her culinary skills, even though last night's practice omelette had been perfect.

Scully took range-free eggs, grated cheese, chopped organic scallions, butter, and multigrain toast out of her bag, and ran a soapy cloth over the toaster before drying it carefully. She switched on the burner under a cast iron skillet. Began the toast. Got out two plates from an open shelf.

Soon the egg and scallion mix was bubbling. Scully sprinkled on cheese, and carefully began to fold it.

Her jaw clenched as the omelette broke, and she poked at the eggs until they were done. Dividing the mess onto two plates, Scully added toast and forks, then carried them to the coffee table.

Mulder raised an eyebrow, and Scully raised one back. "Old family recipe - cheesy eggs."

"Smells good."

Mulder ate with obvious relish and Scully relaxed. Really, the eggs weren't too bad. Pretty good, in fact.

Plate clean, Mulder sat back and sighed, patting his belly. "Way to a man's heart, Scully."

Scully snorted. "Fat men must love their wives."

Mulder held up a finger. "I should have been clearer. Cooking is only one of the ways."

A teasing look. "I'll remember that." She rose, headed for the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Count on it, Scully."

*

Thursday was Mulder's turn.

With curiosity as itchy as day old sunburn, Scully deliberately evened her pace down the hall as she knocked and opened the door. The coffee table was crowded.

"Breakfast of Champions," Mulder pointed to the cereal. "Orange juice. Toast."

Mulder lounged back on his sofa, a satisfied pasha. Remains of the multigrain loaf were piled high with butter and jam.

"A breakfast feast." Scully scraped off most of a thick layer of topping, shrugged apologetically to Mulder and patted her waistline. Mulder smirked while downing his meds.

"You think you're gaining weight? I bet I could fit two hands around your waist, Scully. Want me to try?"

Scully could feel heat flood her cheeks, refused to look at his beautiful, elegant hands. "Not necessary. The scale doesn't lie."

"Hmm." Mulder traced a complicated pattern with one finger on the space between them. "Why don't we go out for breakfast tomorrow morning? At Sophie's? Then we can each choose what we want."

"Sounds good."

Scully nibbled her toast. She poked at her cereal and finished the juice. Standing reluctantly, she began, "I'd better go to work."

"Want to go for a walk?"

"What?"

"Want to go for a walk first to get some exercise?"

Scully looked at her watch and shrugged. The fresh air would be good for Mulder. Good for her. Besides, without Mulder the office was like a library full books she'd already read. "Sure."

Scully enjoyed the familiar warmth of Mulder's hand resting lightly on her back as they strolled down the block. The aroma of cherry blossoms, a tortoiseshell cat grooming herself on a window ledge, the steady hum of cars - the best of spring was near at hand, and she felt herself slide into the moment.

They stopped at a small park. Mulder wordlessly turned and guided her back, and Scully suddenly grinned like her long-ago twelve-year-old self.

Mulder smiled down at her. "My gracious silence."

"Shakespeare?"

"And Sayers."

Scully touched his elbow. "Thank you, Mulder."

*

Friday was a formica table at Mulder's local coffee shop.

Mulder raised his hand from the back booth as Scully entered, and she slid across from him. He fiddled with the menu.

"You know, Scully, I'm not normally much of a breakfast person."

Scully nodded, relieved. "Me neither. Coffee would be good though."

"How about dinner instead?"



Written for the X-OK Domestic Challenge. Elements are:
- any combination of characters doing any kind of lurvin'
- the simple theme: a domestic act



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