POOR-PUPPY

anonymous asked:

28. MSR. I'm feeling fluff but not opposed to smut. Maybe a birthday/Christmas/one of them is sick?

This prompt is really, really old. The prompt was  “You did this for me?”. I picked birthday and one of them is sick. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

It’s 9.16 am and Mulder is not yet at the office. Despite the fact that Mulder has a habit of ditching her, or following any lead right away without another though, he tends to be at work on time. If not early. How often has she strolled in and Mulder was already in the midst of something important? 

Today, Scully made sure she’d be there before him. To prepare her surprise for his birthday. She examines her work now from all angles. Small, colorful candles flicker their light at her and in between them sits a slice of carrot cake. With extra frosting and, instead of a candy carrot on top, a small alien head. In gray, of course. A few weeks ago on a stakeout, Mulder told her that he didn’t like celebrating his birthday. Too much fuss, he explained spewing out sunflower seeds like an alien-hunting James Dean character. The only thing he liked, still indulged in even now, he admitted to her, was a slice of carrot cake. That’s when Scully knew what she’d do for his birthday. 

And now he’s late. She picks up the phone and dials his cell phone number. Three dial tones later and Mulder himself steps into the office.

“Scully?“ 

"There you are,” she hangs up the phone and gets up to greet him; he stands there like a question mark, his eyes searching hers in the dim, intimate light, “happy birthday!” Scully exclaims and engulfs him in her arms. If she didn’t know better she’d think he’d forgotten his own birthday. He groans into her hair when she squeezes his sides but hugs her back.

“You did this for me?" His voice tangles in her hair and Scully smiles against his chest. 

"I did. I know you said you don’t like your birthday, but everyone deserves to feel a little special every once in a while.”

“Thank you, Scully. Thank you.” His arms tighten around her and Scully wishes they could stay like this for the rest of the day. She gently pushes at him. There are tears swimming in his eyes but he smiles at her. 

“Come on, blow out your candles.” He makes his way over to his desk, his steps deliberate and slow. Something is wrong, Scully thinks, but is distracted when Mulder stares at the plate in front of him. He chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief. Her Mulder, for once unable to belief in something. His head comes up so he can look at her. He doesn’t say a word, purses his lips and starts blowing out the candles. Scully only got him a dozen; who wants to be reminded of their age anyway? Mulder is halfway through when he sits down in his chair. 

“Mulder, are you all right?" Scully turns on the desk lamp, the bright light breaking the atmosphere. 

"I’m just old.” Mulder jokes. Now in the light, Scully sees Mulder’s pale complexion. Strands of hair are plastered to his forehead.

“Mulder, look at me.” Scully orders and he does. Dilated pupils, she notes. She leans over and touches his cheek. They feel warm, feverish. 

“I haven’t been feeling well. My stomach feels funny.” He touches his side and Scully swallows hard. She puts two and two together, takes his hand and helps him up.

“We’re going to the hospital right now. I think you have appendicitis." 

"Happy birthday to me.” He mumbles as he lets himself be led away.

They confirm Scully’s diagnosis in the ER. Mulder is admitted and prepped for surgery right away, the inflammation too far gone to wait any longer. The fact that he doesn’t complain once tells Scully that he’s in more pain than he’s letting on.

“Are you going to operate?” He asks her, his voice slightly slurred. 

“No, I’m not. These people here know what they’re doing.” That’s her hope anyway. Scully knows this is a routine operation. Mulder will be fine. They’ll release him in a few days, he’ll take it easy - she’ll make sure of that - and soon, he’ll have forgotten it ever happened.

“Then why are you crushing my hand?” As if it were on fire, Scully lets go of his hand. It falls away him like a wet rag.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I’m just… you scared me, you know? You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“I forgot when I saw you,” her eyebrows shoot up, “and what you did for my birthday. I only wish I could have tried the carrot cake. See what that alien tastes like.” They both chuckle. 

“I promise I’ll get you a new one once they’ll let you eat solid food again.” Mulder groans just as three nurses walk in. Time to go.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Mulder.” Scully squeezes his hand and finds herself unwilling to let go. Mulder’s panic face makes an appearance and she puts her other hand on his cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s a routine operation. And you know you have something to look forward to: your carrot cake.” He squeezes her hand as his eyelids droop. Another moment and he’ll be gone. Scully listens to the familiar click and clack of the hospital bed as they start wheeling Mulder out. She’s still holding his hand knowing she’ll have to let go any second now.

“Scully… I… love you.” Her hand lets go, they take him away, and she stands there. Did he just say what she thinks he just said?

Two hours later, Scully is informed that there were no complications. Mulder is in his room, still out of it, and she is allowed to be with him. A nurse brings her a blanket, apologizes that the plastic chairs are so uncomfortable. Scully keeps drifting off, her hand holding Mulder’s like a lifeline. When it twitches, finally, she sits up straight, waits for his eyes to open.

“Hey, Mulder." 

"Hi. Am I dead?”

“No, you’re not. How are you feeling?”

“Hmmm, tired.”

“It’s the anesthetic. It’ll take a while before it wears off. Any pain?”

“No. Feel… pretty good. Best birthday ever.” His eyes are closed, he’ll be asleep again in no time, but at least he’s smiling. As she stares at his peaceful face, she wants to ask him. Ask him if he really said I love you earlier. Scully knows it’s no use and yet she leans forward to whisper to him. 

“Do you remember anything from before, Mulder? Before the operation?" 

"Hmm. You… carrot cake… I love… love… love carrot cake.” Scully, amused, shakes her head. Of course. Carrot cake. He loves carrot cake. That’s all. Scully takes his hand back in hers and leans back in her chair. Maybe she’ll ask him again later. Maybe.