#promptsbymulderwearingglasses

[scullysexual]

X-Files Ficmas Advent Calendar 2022: Day 2

Day 2: For @mulderwearingglasses

Their prompt: "Mulder looks out for a drunk Scully whose drunken vulnerability is giving away her feelings for him more than her usual sober self. He then takes care of her when she's dreadfully hungover and feeling stupid about the night before."

Wouldn't be Christmas without my annual sad fic. I hope you like it and I hope it answers your prompt. Also shout out to @starshinescully for reading these fics beforehand! It really helped.

ao3 | @today-in-fic |

Wishing For A Change.

“I love you.”

The words break through the silence. Your eyes snap up from where they had been gazing lazily at a spot on the floor. You twist, turning your head towards Scully who lies on the bed, eyes fighting to stay open.

“I love you,” she repeats and your heart clenches in your chest. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said that before and I…I wanted to before something happened to you, too.”

It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear in years and yet this is the first time she’s ever mentioned such a thing explicitly. The wine from earlier still fresh and pungent on her breath, she wouldn’t be saying such things if she was clear of mind and wasn’t so sad. The realisation tugs at you. So cruel the universe would be to dangle those words in front of you and have nothing behind them.

You shuffle closer to where her head lays on the pillow, taking in her red, heavy eyes and blotchy skin from crying. She was tired, exhausted from the events of the week and grief, probably delirious too. Nights spent awake laying next to Emily, tending to Emily, fighting for Emily and for it all to mean nothing. Just like Scully’s love confession, They too had dangled something in front of her only to snatch it away at the last second, taking all evidence away with it, cruel universes indeed.

“You’re tired,” you say, brushing back a strand of hair. “You’ve had a long—” Day and week doesn’t even come close. A long four years, long and hard. You forgo finishing your sentence and instead fall into the soothing, meditative motion of stroking Scully’s hair.

“You’ll stay?” she asks, eyes closed.

“Until you fall asleep, yeah.”

Scully makes a contented noise before finally succumbing to her body’s need for sleep.

-  -

A rustling from the other room wakes you up. A cup being placed down on the counter a little too harshly, a stream of expletives falling from the person’s mouth.

You spy into the kitchen to see a figure; too small to be Bill, too slim to be Maggie, and Tara doesn’t swear- not like a sailor anyway.

You make your way towards the kitchen to see her trying to reach the top shelf of the medicine cupboard.

“Let me do that, Scully,” you say, reaching over to grab the box.

She thanks you, fishing through it to find the Advil pills. You watch her, taking stock, the sadness in her face, the way her body hangs, sleep had done very little to fix her up.

“How are you feeling?” you hazard an ask.

“Like shit,” she answers almost immediately.

You nod and watch her as she fills the glass full of water, wincing as the liquid nosily sloshes into the cup. You want to ask if she remembers last night, what she said. It had kept you up, thinking about the diary in the hospital room.

“What time is the flight?”

The question rips you from your thoughts, startling you. You had yet to plan that far ahead.

“It’s Monday,” she states. “Skinner or somebody will have a case for us.”

You say nothing on her urge to get back to work, it’s how she grieves after all, you know this.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see what’s available.” She hums her approval, swallowing the tablets.

“But you’re sure you want to fly back today?” you ask. “You are hungover—”

“I’ll be fine,” she cuts you off. “And I’m sorry about what I said last night. It was inappropriate.”

You watch the faintest of red creep up her skin- shame and embarrassment setting in.

“It’s fine,” you shake off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I guess I was just…caught up in everything.”

You nod, deciding that, maybe after all, you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Honestly, you have nothing to worry about, Scully. It happens, I promise.”

She gives you the slightest smile.

“I did want to thank you for last night, too. You didn’t have to do that, any of it.”

But you did because you wanted to. Because, despite her not seeing it, you do care about her. A lot.

“Don’t worry. You were- are- grieving and I won’t think any less of you for that. You built a connection with her Dana, that doesn’t just go away.”

She nods and you want her to believe that, to know that it’s okay to feel things, it doesn’t make her weak.

“I just…Thank you. I’ll go get dressed then we can go.”

You watch her slowly make her way out of the kitchen, disappearing behind the wall. You sink against the corner of the counter, letting out a deep breath, still staring at the space she had disappeared from, wishing for a change.