Work Text:
White Pine, Michigan
October 19th
10 PM
It was a chilly night, bordering on cold. The type of night where frost stole quiet over the whole world, like it happened between one blink and the next; and suddenly, you looked outside and everything was that soft silver-grey in the moonlight, orange and red leaves frozen on the trees and where they lay. Scully's breath fogged up the window as she admired the quiet beauty of it all, arms crossed and head tilted to rest on the windowpane. After a long day of investigating, it had been a relief to return to their lodgings: not a cheap motel for once, but a cozy bed-and-breakfast in a gorgeous old house. Mulder had grinned at the sight of it when they arrived, making some comment about how perfectly classic and apple pie the whole thing was--Scully had to agree. Sometimes, it was nice to relax, to catch one's breath; an easy case and a bed-and-breakfast seemed to be the perfect way to do it. Whatever it was--the case, the town, or the weather--it had them breathing easier, smiling more often. Mulder had been practically joyous the whole time, and Scully couldn't help but lighten her own mood to match the rare, bright and infectious enthusiasm.
The thought of her partner had her turning, making her way to the door of their adjoining rooms and knocking softly, before carefully turning the handle. They were both no strangers to letting themselves into the other's room, by now--travelling and working side-by-side tended to do that. When Scully opened the door and cast a brief glance around the room, she found a sight that warmed her heart more than she'd admit to anyone. Mulder was laying on the bed, halfway curled around one of the many throw pillows, and apparently fast asleep; he was still wearing day clothes (a long-sleeve tee and sweatpants), but didn't seem bothered by that fact, expression peaceful and breaths soft.
Scully paused for a moment at the scene. Mulder sleeping at all was a thing to celebrate on its own, with how the man generally avoided it; but moreover, it was... Good, perhaps was the word for it--pleasant, maybe? The thing was, Mulder always had that constant guardedness about him, the look of always waiting for something to happen. But now, for once, he simply looked peaceful; something about that made Scully feel peaceful in turn, knowing her partner was safe and sound and resting (for once in his life). Maybe that wasn't a normal feeling to have towards someone who was technically supposed to only be her colleague--but she and Mulder had left normal behind a long time ago. Non-normal was the job description, after all.
Scully stole forward on silent feet, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards such an old house was sure to have. She didn't want to risk waking Mulder, but he'd managed to fall asleep without any blanket, and it just didn't feel right to leave him without one on a night like this. So she gathered up the quilt that lay at the end of the bed--a soft and worn old nine-patch--and gently draped it over her partner, pausing just a moment to smooth it over his shoulder and remember that peaceful expression. Her task complete, Scully turned to go back to her room, not wanting to overstay her welcome or risk waking Mulder; but as she took half a step away, she felt a gentle hand on her wrist, and quickly turned back around.
Mulder was looking up at her through half-lidded eyes, clearly still mostly asleep, but his voice was certain as it was soft when he asked: "Stay?" And there was something trusting in it, and something pleading, and something warm. In another time, Scully would have said no, would have thought herself ridiculous for even considering it. They were supposed to be colleagues, after all; nothing more.
But she and Mulder had left normal behind a long time ago.
"Alright," Scully murmured back into the quiet of the room, and Mulder offered her one of those soft and genuine smiles that it seemed she alone could summon. She left her slippers by the side of the bed, and slid under the quilt next to him. They were separate for a moment, keeping their distance; then Mulder moved an arm to circle Scully's waist--careful, questioning, waiting for permission. She gave it by curling closer to him, and they moved until there was no space between them. There was a moment where their eyes met, and it was just as charged as it always seemed to be between them, a silent conversation running just beneath the surface; but this time it was quiet, and gentle, and trusting. Mulder offered one of those soft smiles again, and then he was looking away, laying his head back down--this time, to rest just beneath Scully's chin. She closed her eyes, heart fluttering for a moment, and allowed her hand to drift upwards, landing to rest in soft brown hair. In that moment, Scully knew that there was nowhere else she'd rather be.
"Goodnight, Mulder," she whispered, voice curling around the syllables like a song.
"Night, Scully," he murmured back, embrace tightening for just a moment in acknowledgement of the unspoken words beneath.
Frost fell over the cold landscape outside, turning the world to silver-grey. But inside, together beneath the quilt, Scully and Mulder were warm.