#My other cat was about three months old when he came home in a granola box

[teaboot]

Congratulations on your kitten! A few (a lot) bits of advice from someone who raised 4 kittens:

Watch your step. It's very easy to accidentally squish them. My kitten used to hide in a pillowcase and she was so small that you wouldn't even notice. Pat down everything before you sit.

Kittens are small enough to hide in EVERYTHING. I thought two of mine were lost. They were just sleeping under a closet.

Kittens usually will try to escape the room as soon as possible. Be careful when opening doors so they don't get out.

Cats will meow a lot to get your attention so you'll open the door.

Don't run around them. They get scared.

Cats will try their best to get food. They will break dishes to get anything with dairy (they push them off the counter). They can open pizza boxes, take off covers. I wish I was joking. They also love to claw open flour bags and dump flour everywhere. Keep your food somewhere they can't open.

Cats love plants. Keep them out of reach or your cat will eat them.

Cats will eat everything. I mean everything. Do not leave food out.

Do not let the kitten get somewhere high. They can get up. But getting down is another story. (usually this is rectified once the cat gets older).

There is a very high chance the cat will sleep on you if you go to sleep.

Cats CAN open doors. Kittens can't, but older cats can.

Cats think strings are toys. Which means if you wear those pants with strings at the waist to tighten them they will attack you

Cats like to eat hair for some reason.

They will try to drink out of the toilet.

Some cats like to knead you. It's painful bc they use claws. Wear thick pants if they're on you.

It is VERY hard to pick up a sleeping kitten when they're on you. Even if you need to go somewhere.

Thank you!! :D

[anotheronechicagobog]

So Long Part 2 Brian Zvonecek x Boden!reader

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

It had been six months since your visit home. You and Brian had been keeping in contact via texting and writing letters. It was a bit difficult to know what to write in the letters, you wanted the information, and little drawings you added on the side margins, to be a surprise. So your phone calls tended to be about movies, books, and bad puns. You’d come up with a game where you would tell each other bad puns, trying to find the worst one.

“Thanks for explaining the word ‘many’ to me Y/N, it means a lot.”

“Why did Adele cross the road? To say hello from the other side.”

“What concert only costs 45 cents? A 50 cent concert featuring Nickleback.”

“Hey! Don’t slam on my favourite band! It’s not my fault you have bad taste!”

“Ha! I win! That means that we have to read ‘The Tattooist of Auschwitz’! Better luck next time, loser.”

“No need to rub it in Bri, next time we’ll be reading ‘Son of a Trickster’ and I will get you to like Eden Robinson.”

“Yeah, yeah. Better go get a copy of the book that you actually have to read in the by two weeks.”

“Fine, fine. I should get going. Gotta get to work and then the bookstore.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

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TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER

You were practically vibrating as you disembarked the plane. While you’d been home on a few visits since the one where you’d met Brian it wasn’t the same as being home. So, after twelve years of schooling and training, you were coming home. You’d managed to keep it a secret from everyone but Brian, wanting to surprise everyone. Brian met you outside the arrivals door, smiling ear to ear.

“Brian! It’s so good to see you!” You met halfway and wrapped yourselves up in a bear hug. “Does my dad suspect anything?”

“No, but Cruz does. I’ve been smiling too much this week apparently.”

“How does he have time to notice you when he just started dating that Chloe chick?”

“He knows how to multitask.”

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Two hours later you had just finished setting up Otis’ apartment for your unofficial welcome home party. Those invited were under the impression that Otis was hosting the party for the Cubs game and you couldn’t wait to shock all of them.

You had just finished putting out all the food, while leaving some room for the dishes others were bringing when there was a knock on the door. You darted into Brian’s room before he opened the door. Judging from the voices Kelly Severide and Matt Casey had arrived first.

It took a half-hour for everyone to arrive, you could hear the laughter and comradery and couldn’t wait to join it. Brian silenced the commotion and got the children to sit down and you knew that that was your queue.

“Everyone, I have been a little misleading. I didn’t really invite you here to watch the game. I invited you here for Y/N’s welcome home party!” You walked to the living room and stood beside Brian while he pulled a string that release red paper confetti and a roll-down sign with ‘Welcome Home’ painted in large red letters. “Eep! Brian! When did you set that up?”

��Let’s talk about that later, now... Hide me from your dad!” He hid behind you just as your dad reached you and wrapped you in a burly hug. The scent of smoke and old spice tickled your nostrils, causing you to tear up at the feeling of nostalgia. “I missed you dad.”

“When did you fly in?”

“I got here three hours ago.”

“How long are you staying?” The unease in his eyes brought a soft smile to your face. You placed your hands on his shoulders and you could feel him tense and wait for bad news under your fingers.”

“Forever. I’m moving home.” Cheers and the clinking of glasses surrounded you, enveloping you in the knowledge that you were making the right decision. Meeting the mirthy eyes of Brian made your heart swell with love and excitement.

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TWO MONTHS LATER

“Doctor Boden, Doctor Manning has requested a consult. One of your younger patients has been admitted into the ED.”

“Which patient?”

“Samirah Arian.”

“Damn, her last tests were so good.”

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“Natalie?”

“Y/N, this way. She came in ten minutes ago and she’s only been getting worse.” The young girl looked minuscule in her bed, so tiny and frail. “Mr. and Mrs. Arian, what happened?”

“She didn’t look well this morning, and then her fever spiked.” 

“When she’s stable I’d like to move her up to the isolation unit, for now, we need to start scans and blood tests. Maggie, order a CAT scan and an MRI, and we need to run a blood test to find the number of her white blood cell count. You’ve already got her on antibiotics right?”

“Of course.”

“Good, let’s get moving. Maggie, can radiology squeeze us in?”

“Go on up, they’re waiting for you.”

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The couch heaved under you as you all but collapsed on top of it. You’d just spent 24 hours at the hospital, pulling an extra shift to stay with the Arian family and treat their daughter. Thankfully you’d been able to switch shifts with a co-worker making that possible. The timing of this meant that you got home 30 seconds before your roommates. Brian, Sylvie, and Emily sludged through the door. “Why do you look so tired Y/N? You didn’t pull a 24-hour shift.” Emily whined as she tried to make you move off the couch, so she could lie on it instead. “Actually I did, I had to work another twelve hours because one of my kid patients who finally got to go home took a turn for the worst and ended up in the ED, then a few of my other patients went downhill as well, and we discovered that the old crotchety nurse I hate hasn’t been washing or sanitizing her hands because she felt those of us her were are too coddled and weak, which is of course what caused a bunch of kids with cancer to get worse.”

“Ouch.” You’d moved into a sitting position so that Sylvie and Emily could cuddle into you, the three of you just about to fall asleep across from Bian in his favourite chair, your stomach snarled. “When was the last time you ate?”

“...”

“Y/N?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to say it that won’t make you upset.”

“Oh no...”

“Yeah, that’s not possible. A granola bar fourteen hours ago.”

“Y/N!”

“Oh come on Brian, I was busy! It was absolute chaos!”

“I’m going to order some deep-dish pizzas, cause we haven’t eaten in a while either, but don’t think this conversation is done.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Despite her exhaustion, Emily gathered the energy to wiggle her eyebrows at you. “Cut it ouuuuut.”

“Emily has a point Y/N...” You bit your lip and shook your head. You and Brian had been dating secretly for the past eight months. While it had been difficult starting a relationship when you were so far away from each other, it had been worth it. To come home and be with Brian was a heavenly feeling, though it would be easier once you got some privacy or told everyone about your relationship. Chloe and Cruz had moved in together, causing Brian and Sylvie to move out. Sylvie had initially been crashing on Emily’s couch while she found a place, but even with Sylvie’s help the rent got too high, so they moved into the house you and Brian were renting at your dad’s insistence. You were annoyed, honestly, at your father’s gall, but mostly at the realization that he thought he could prevent you from dating who you wanted to. It was ridiculous, and a little high school if you were honest with yourself.

“Pizza has been ordered, and... I call dibs on the shower first!” Your drained laughter mixed with the shouts of protest coming from the other women as your boyfriend locked the bathroom door. Their tangled limbs had knocked you onto the floor in their haste to prevent your moustache man from getting to the shower first, so when the returned to the couch defeated, you were laughing weakly as tears dripped from your and hugging your chest.

“It’s not funny Y/N.”

Queue laughter picking up its pace.

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“Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

“No, but I don’t want to hide our relationship from your dad anymore, we both know he suspects something.”

“True. Alright, just remember not to get too flustered. He’ll probably want to punch you but I’ll make sure that you’re holding Terrance when we tell him so that he can’t. Just don’t blurt out details from our sex life or something. Or insult his painted birds, he’s very proud of those.”

“Alright, hold Terrance, don’t get punched, don’t talk about sex, or his... His painted what?”

“He started carving and painting bird after grandad died, it was something they used to do together.”

“Okay, don’t insult his painted birds-”

“And don’t tell the firehouse about them!” His eyes widened in realization. “Ooh, good point! He’d definitely string me alive for that. Okay, I’m not ready, but I want to do this, let’s get going.”

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You’d co-ordinated with Donna, so while she didn’t know who you were dating she knew you were bringing your boyfriend and you didn’t want your dad to kill him. So she insisted on answering the door with Terrance on her hip so that she could hand Brian his shield for the night.

“Wallace, here they are.”

“They?”

“Hi dad.”

“Hi chief.”

“Otis... What are you doing here? With your arm around my daughter’s waist? Holding my son?”

“Uh... Well.. It... It- It’s re-really-”

“Dad, Brian is my boyfriend. We have been dating for eight months, and we live together. Together and alone now that our two temporary roommates have found their own place.” The complete and utter rage displayed on his face yanked a squeak out of Brian and a shutter out of you. It had been well over a decade since you’d seen that face and you’d wished you’d never have to see it again, yet here you were. “Using Terrance as a shield was smart. Clearly Y/N or Donna’s idea. Y/N, can I see you in the dining room please?”

“Okay,” you turned to Brian, “I’ll be back in a minute, keep holding Terrance.” A kiss in the cheek and you were gone, having willingly entered the lions’ den.

“Dad-”

“No. I will speak. Y/N you are my greatest accomplishment, being your father has been the best thing I’ve done with my life. I love you with all of my soul, and that’s why I can’t let you stay with Otis any longer. Being with a firefighter takes strain on relationships, it is challenging to keep them alive. Donna, Cindy, Trudy, every one of the wives of my men worries in ways I never want you to suffer through. One day, Otis might not come home. He might die. In a house, a factory, or a hospital room. You will live with this fear, the fear that you will lose him, day after day for the rest of your life. It will never end. And the loss you will feel will be like no other, it will rip you apart and grind you into bits. And if he doesn’t die on the job, which no matter how much I want to maim him right now I don’t wish for him, the worry will fry your nerves until you breakdown.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.” He growled at your indifferent response. “I will not live my life afraid of pain. If I did, I would have chosen to live with my mother instead, so that I wouldn’t ‘fry my nerves’ with worry. But I still did. Because I loved you and wanted to live with you. I have spent every day of my life worrying and fretting about your safety. And uncle Hermann’s, and uncle Mouch’s. Adding Brian to that list won’t be much of a feat, and you’re insulting my ability to find healthy outlets for my emotions. If I get hurt, then I’ll get hurt. But the time I’ve spent with Brian is something that I will cherish and hold dear to me, and as long as he lets me, loves me, I’ll spend the rest of my time, my life with him. I love him.”

“You really do, huh?”

“Yes.”

Teary sobs came from the living room, “can you hug already? Please?”

“And can we join?” All you could do was smile through the happy tears as your dad, your hero, embraced you and gestured for Brian and Donna to join you. Love, happiness, and relief radiated from all five of you, even though Terrance had no clue what was going on.

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“... I still want to punch you Otis.”

“Dad!”

“Wallace!”

“I said that I want to not that I will. Sheesh.”

[lokisgame]

Rainbow’s End

Yellow was not the name of the street, but it might as well be, the trees were turning yellow covering the pavement with a yellow carpet of leaves. The yellow sun crawled slowly over the city, framed between two rows of buildings, facing east up the street the view was absolutely stunning. It was almost 7am on a calm and quiet Saturday morning, an occasional car drove by, someone was taking his morning run, a young father was walking the dog on his way to buy fresh bagels for his beautiful wife. This was the kind of place you wanted to stick around, live a safe and happy life in a quiet part of town. On the first floor apartment of an unassuming brownstone townhouse, the door closed behind a tall, striking dark-haired woman. Her last nights’ suit jacket was as stylish as her heels were high and her makeup flawless. You wouldn’t tell by her expression or quiet, purposeful stride, that as the thick carpet swallowed the click of her heels, the walls swallowed her screams last night. She spent here more than one night each week, yet this wasn’t her home and neither did she kiss the man she left in the bedroom goodbye. Her day was already planned, and that’s what her thoughts focused on as she got into a cab.

The apartment wasn’t large, but it was comfortable enough for a man in his early thirties, living a quiet life. All he needed was a place to sleep and a place to write, and that’s basically what it was. A small bedroom taken up almost entirely by a bed and a pair of small nightstands, a living room with a well worn leather sofa, a desk and a fish tank, small kitchen and a bathroom. The rent was cheap and it was all he asked. The morning sun peeked inside and it’s golden touch gleamed on the black, lacquered surface of the typewriter, softened by a fine layer of dust on the keys and bars; then found the wine glasses on a small coffee table, lipstick stains on one of them, a crisp white shirt draped over the armrest of the couch, black suit pants on the floor, socks, boxers. Following that trail one didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to easily imagine the events of last night. Yet the September sun was kind, it’s touch soft, tender and warm on his bare back. Warm sheets and feather pillows surrounded him like a fort, guarding these short hours of sleep. This was his life as he knew it for years now, long nights, light sleep, his tall, slender body wedged inside the gap between the life of a night owl and a full-blown insomniac. These few predawn hours of peace were what kept him alive. Yet, sooner or later, even in a perfect word, a phone rang.

“Mulder,” he mumbled into the receiver, grimacing as the cold plastic touched his face. “Did I wake you? What are you doing in bed at this hour?” The deep tone carried a slight reprimand and Mulder made the effort to gather his thoughts. The man on the other end of the line didn’t care much about his smart mouth. Although he valued his freedom, the little structure and push towards discipline were the main two things the man brought into his life and ff Mulder would ever suffer anyone as his boss, it would be Walter Skinner, his editor, so the title was only half a joke. “Good morning, Sir.” “Get up and meet me in an hour at the diner down the street from your place, I’m meeting someone there in ten and I thought we could talk later, since I’m here anyway.” “With pleasure, not often the mountain comes to the prophet,” he chuckled rubbing some sleep out of his eyes. “Who said anything about pleasure, just get here, and don’t be late, I ain’t got all day to babysit your sorry ass, 9am sharp.” “Yes sir.” Mulder said with a little smile and the man hung up without a word of goodbye. Skinner was the only man who could speak to him like that because quite frankly it was the only way he knew how, due to his military training and three tours in ‘Nam. Honest and fair, not prone to sugarcoat his judgments, those were the traits he appreciated in a man who’s job was to make him work harder. It was his firm hand that made Mulder’s last three books into massive success, and his publishing houses’s efforts that allowed him to remain an anonymous citizen, living his simple life in the greater D.C. area. Rolling over onto his back, Mulder stretched his bones, Diana was gone as always, the mess was still there, as always, (“I’m not your housekeeper Mulder”), the sky outside his window had that particular shade of blue it only took on in autumn on a perfectly cloudless day, the clock said 7:30am. Pushing the pillow that smelled of her heavy perfume to the floor and pulling the sheets back up, he gave himself 20 more minutes in bed, to watch the yellowing leaves outside his window and think about nothing.

Walter Skinner, a balding man in his late 40’s, looked through the menu, sitting in a booth sipping black coffee and waiting for his niece to arrive. The diner looked like the old diners he remebered from the roadtrips he took around the country, tall vinyl barstools, vinyl booths, a young waitress taking orders and refilling coffee. This place still had the feel he liked, the kind of place you grew up with, where you ate ice cream when your dad sipped his coffee over a newspaper he bought at the kiosk outside, where you shared a first milkshake with a girl hoping she realized it’s a date not two friends hanging out, where you had a midnight coffee coming back from the movies on a Friday night. These kind of places kept the connection to the past alive. This Saturday morning the place was buzzing with clients, who had things to do and places to be, but didn’t rush like they would on a normal work day, the world could wait, the coffee couldn’t. Neither could a tiny, slender redhead, who just entered the establishmen, her stride confident and purposeful, and her face stretched in a wonderful smile. “Uncle Walter,” she said as he stood up to greet her and let her peck the air by his ear. “Dana, how many times did I ask you to drop the uncle part.” “You can ask all you want, but that’s who you are,” she giggled and sat down, “did you order already?” “Not yet, what would you like?” He handed her the menu and she glanced at it, then smiled. “Granola with low fat yogurt and coffee.” “Not pancakes?” He smiled and signalled the waitress, “you always had pancakes.” “Time to grow up,” she shrugged out of her light jacket and sipped some coffee, a fine cup of coffee was all she needed to like a place, and she loved this place in an instant. “Speak for yourself,” he replied and placed their order. The food was more than okay too, which was a huge plus for someone who wouldn’t be able to control her hours for the next few months. Being a doctor was a dream job but it came with numerous sacrifices. “Bill and Charlie want to drop by your place later, to say hi.” “Great, we could have dinner together, to celebrate.” “No, I can’t, I only have this weekend to move in, the place must be habitable by tonight because my lease on the last place is over and I have no where else to go.” “You know that’s not true, you can always have my couch,” that made her giggle, it was ages since they came to visit their uncle Walt and slept on the floor at his house. Now he was divorced and lived in a fashionable apartment building downtown, but still he thought she’s the little girl who crashed on his couch watching movies late at night. “Thanks but no thanks, the point is to do this on my own, standing on my own two feet.” She smiled sweetly stirring yogurt into the fruity mix. He practically drowned his pancakes in maple sirup, just as she remembered him doing when she was a kid. He was her Uncle and nothing he said could change that. “You still don’t want me to introduce you to this guy I know, who lives in your building?” “Now that would be embarrassing, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” “No one doubts that, I just thought it would be nice, to have someone who’s not a stranger.” “Walter,” her tone was strict, ending the discussion, and it also was a trademark tone of his side of the family. “Alright, alright, no more pushing, now tell me how are your folks doing, how’s my sister.” She told him about the family trip to Florida, about Bill proposing to Tara at dinner on their last night, about Missy ditching them to spend the entire week with a lifeguard, and finally herself and Charlie taking a whole day to swim with the sharks. He listened and laughed and was happy to have his favorite relative so close by his side. From all his relations, the petite Dana Scully was the kind of person her admired and loved to have around. Fearless and bright, curious like a little cat but also sensible enough to know where to draw a line. When he found out she will be taking up residency at the Georgetown University Hospital, he was happy to help find a decent place to live (which she refused), serve with advice (which she took) and any other kind of help she might need or want. She finished her story, coffee and breakfast, then glanced at her watch. “Oh my! Will you look at that, Bill and Charlie will be here soon, I gotta run,” she took out her wallet to pay for herself but he stopped her. “Don’t be silly, it’s my treat, you’ll get the next one.” “This is the next one,” she countered, but put away the money, knowing he won’t let her take the next one either. “Thank you.” “Call me when you get settled, I’ll come by to visit.” She got up and grabbed her jacket. “Come to dinner.” “Even better,” he got up with her, but made no move to leave. “You’re staying?” “I’m meeting a client.” “Oh, okay.” She smiled and hugged him briefly. “Take care of yourself Dana, and call me if you need anything.” “I will.” Dana promised and was off, as always fearless and ready to face a new challenge.

Mulder finally got up and managed not to be late for once, although cutting it so close, that he almost trampled a cute redhead exiting the diner. He held the door for her, letting her through with a quiet apology and she flashed him a smile that reached her pretty blue eyes but was gone in a knick of time right along with her, swallowed by the morning crowd. Skinner was waiting for him in a booth at the far end of the room, presently on the phone. His previous engagement must have just happened because the waitress didn’t have time to clean up the table. “Hello Walter,” he said quietly squeezing the man’s offered hand and took his place at the table, just as the waitress appeared with a smile. “Hi Mulder,” she greeted him piling up the dishes expertly in one hand. “Hello Clarice,” he smiled back, giving her his best Lecter smile, which wasn’t very good and therefore always made her laugh. “The usual?” A mug appeared in front of him and she filled it with coffee “Yup, double bacon this time.” “Coming up,” she toped Walter’s mug as well and disappeared to fill his order of double bacon, toast and eggs. A curt goodbye ended the call and Mulder found himself in direct path of a look that might kill a lesser man. “So, how’s the book coming along Mulder?” “A book?” “A short story?” “A haiku, tops.” “Fine, give me something, anything, so that I would know there’s still some words left in that grey maze you keep for a brain.” “Hey! My grey maze is doing just fine,” Mulder instantly became defensive. “Really? When was the last time you wrote something, a chapter, outline of a chapter, a line of text, tell me.” “I can do it right now.” “Oh really, right here, on the spot?” Clarice appeared with his food and Mulder thanked her, picking up his fork and knife. “Give me a moment and I’ll prove it to you.” “Fine, take your time.” Skinner sat back and waited, sipping his coffee and watching Mulder with curious eyes. Breakfast disappeared fast as he looked out the window at the passing crowd.

Mulder couldn’t deny that the writing wasn’t coming along as it used to, and it was quite some time since he came up with a decent idea, or any idea for that matter. Lately he felt stuck, somehow stuck in his life, caught in a routine that sucked the inspiration out of him one day at a time. His relationship with Diana was growing strained. From the very beginning the deal was to have no strings attached, he could date and bed anyone he wanted, as could she (only fair). But it was becoming clear that her affection lacked the depth he needed to keep him interested. They met a few times per week, shared a night, but his days were his, they weren’t a couple, he hardly could call them friends with benefits. Benefits were alright, the friends part not so much. He couldn’t even remember the last time she really smiled at him. The girl he passed in the doorway earlier had more warmth in her smile for a stranger than Diana had for him, her lover for over a year now. He took a napkin and wrote down the first words that came to his mind on a wave of those feelings.

“Blue and red girl A flourish of a smile My heart starves”

Watching him pushing the napkin across the table, Skinner took it and glanced at the words with a critical eye. "It's not nothing but it isn't something either," he declared, not unkindly but with a distinct note of reprimand. Mulder looked up at his friend and mentor, but instead of reproach behind the wire-rimmed glasses, he saw concern. "Remember what I you told when we first met?" Skinner paused waiting for an answer. "Write every day, one word at a time, a sentence, a paragraph, and before you know it you'll have a book in your hands." He recited the words that pulled him through some of his worst writer-blocks, yet today didn't bring him any comfort. As a psychologist he knew that lack of inspiration was only a symptom of something deeper. He took the napkin back and folding it, put it away in his pocket. Walter’s eyes were still on him. “Do you still believe that?” He asked finishing the last of his coffee. “I want to believe.”

They parted ways, and Mulder headed for the swimming pool, taking the long way round. He needed to relax and there was something about water that calmed him and helped sort through the bad thoughts that were gradually taking over his mind. When he passed his building and saw a U-Haul truck and two man struggling with an overstuffed couch, he was glad he thought ahead and took his gym bag when he left earlier. Someone must have leased the place above his flat.

“No no no no no, leave it,” she stoped Charlie before he could touch her precious coffee machine. “I’ll take it up myself, you can take the china, it’s the box to your left.” “You’re funny Dana, you let me handle fragile cups and plates but won’t let me touch that monster, which is certainly heavier than you are.” “This is my coffee machine and if I break it, there will be no one to blame for it but me,” she hugged the boxy coffee maker as if it was her dearest child, “half of my first pay check went into this baby” “Suit yourself,” he picked up the box then grimaced at the wight of it, “okay, I take it back, it can’t be heavier than this.” “Come on, we’re past the worst part, the bed and sofa are in, we’re almost done.” “Yeah, all we have to do now is haul half of Library Of Congress, up three flights of stairs, no elevator. I don’t think my optimism can cover that.” “Then stop wagging your tongue and get moving.” Bill said climbing up the ramp, military training oozing from his every pore, as if he was self-proclaimed general and this was his stretch of the front, “unless you have some magic powers to help us with the heavy lifting.” “Use the force Luke,” Dana croaked in a poor imitation of Master Yoda. “I can’t, it’s too big,” Charlie faked dropping the box and she gasped. “Gotch’a” he chuckled. “That was low,” she glared and pointed one finger at the door. “Get moving you beanstalk!” Her annoyed expression made him really laugh this time, but he did as ordered, following Bill who was carrying another one of the heavy boxes. The three of them managed to move everything in less than two hours and the boys left Dana’s new place with a sense of a job well done, despite her refusing their offer to help with unpacking. She thanked them and promised to join them wherever they manage to drag out Uncle Walter. After she shut the door behind them and looked around the place, the enormity of the step finally started to sink in. She was living on her own, starting a new job in two days and she was going to do this alone. And she was ready to do it! She will show them all! But first she needed coffee, yes, coffee will pull her through.

Mulder came back home, somewhere between one box run and the next. The thumping on the stairs didn’t bother him that much; he was planning to take a nap anyway. A mile along the swimming pool made him deliciously tired and ready to cheat insomnia out of few hours of sleep. The living room was still a mess, and picking up clothes to make room on the couch he noticed traces of lipstick on the collar of his favorite white shirt and got instantly annoyed with Diana. Great, just what he needed, maybe Mrs. Woo could work her magic and save it, but the discovery left him discouraged, made him feel like a thing, marked and left on a shelf for another day. He decided to clean up the rest of the place later, not that he was expecting anybody tonight anyway. The couch was well worn and a good friend of his. Two hours later Mulder woke up and smiled at the ceiling, recognizing a faint echo of Perry Como, who’s papa loved mambo. Good thing it wasn’t another silence loving nag who called the police twice a month, he had enough of that. Gathering the wine glasses and take-out cartons from the coffee table, he danced a little on his way to the kitchen, humming the familiar tune under his breath. He went two and let the water swirl around the glass, washing out the remaining wine, on four squeezed some soap on the sponge and wiped the lipstick of the edge of glass... And in that moment his hand slipped and by pure reflex he squeezed the bowl, crushing the glass. Blood darker than wine flowed from a deep cut in the palm of his right hand. He tore off a paper towel and pressed it against the wound, then rummaged through the cabinets, searching for bandages, bandaids, anything to stop the bleeding. Heart racing, adrenaline fuelled his thesaurus and if he stoped to listen to what he was saying, he’d be surprised how many swear words he knew and how colourful pictures he could paint with them. Still he found nothing, the first aid kit was empty, not even a piece of gauze in a torn sterile packet, he carved himself a new, shorter, lifeline. The paper towel was turning bright red fast, he needed help. The couple downstairs was out of town, Alex on top floor was a prick and creeped him out, his only chance was the new guy upstairs.

Rushing to the door, Mulder bumped his head painfully on the open cabinet doors, cursing the world again and still rubbing his forehead, took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door urgently. Quite the dramatic way to introduce himself to the new neighbor, he couldn’t have written it better himself if he tried. A small redhead opened the door and beneath the frizzing tresses he recognized the blue eyes he saw disappear into the crowd that morning, but before he could say anything, or even find his tongue, she noticed his bloodied face and pulled him inside. “What happened?” She asked briskly, dancing between boxes while dragging him to the kitchen by the sleeve of his shirt. Flicking the lights on and sitting him in a chair, she tilted his face into the light, searching for injury that was the source of all the blood. “I was doing dishes,” he finally spoke and wriggled from under her touch to show her his bleeding hand, “you got any bandages?” They looked at each other, he in pain yet slightly amused, she concerned and as serious as one could get, but only for a second untill they both laughed. “Sure,” the girl relaxed and from between the boxes produced a deep red, medical looking bag, “you’ve come to the right place.” She took his right hand in hers, looking under the paper towel to asses the damage. “Fox Mulder, pleased to meet you,” he quipped. “Dana Scully, M.D.” the girl smiled, glancing up and meeting his eyes. “Well Doctor Scully, is it bad?” “You won’t be doing any dishwashing for a few days,” she said looking for tweezers in case there was some glass left. “Just patch me up and I’ll buy you dinner, nobody does the dishes tonight.”