Date: Fri, 3 Apr 1998
Title - Chicken Soup for the Soul (1/1)
Author - Stacey Oziel
E-Mail address -
Rating - NC-17
Category - SR
Spoilers -Anasazi/The Blessing Way.
Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance
Summary - Scully makes a house call, and gets to play doctor with Mulder.

Author's Note: After I wrote this, I realized that Kiyoko Ishimura had written
a story with a similar-sounding description - although it seems to involve a
menage a trois with Skinner, Scully and Mulder and my story most certainly does
not. I have not read her story, so no infringement is intended.

This tale is the second in my "Soul" series. The first is entitled "The Windows
to the Soul" in two parts, and if you're interested in reading it, please feel
free to email me and I'll send you a copy.

The "Soul" stories are alternate scenarios that suggest possible situations
in which Mulder and Scully finally explore their complicated relationship,
eventually taking it to the next level.

Disclaimer: The characters belong only to themselves. Oh, and Chris Carter, too.

9:38 am. Washington, D.C.

Mulder sat in his parked car, and put his head on the steering wheel. He sighed.

He felt terrible.

When he'd woken up this morning, he felt kind of fuzzy, like there was
something off-kilter. His head had ached ever so slightly, and he recalled
the night before, which he'd spent tossing and turning with little thought
of sleep.

He wondered if he was coming down with something. He could always tell; the
first thing that happened was that he got a sore throat.

Clearing his throat, Mulder took inventory. Yup. It felt raw, scratchy,
and ached badly.

The next symptom was usually just a general stuffiness, and he had this
with a vengeance. He felt like he was walking around in a fog, and his
sinuses felt like they were about to explode.

Next, of course, was the runny nose. He sniffled. Check.

But he didn't have a fever, and wasn't sneezing. That was a good sign.
Maybe it was all in his head after all.

He took a deep breath, and turned the key in the ignition.

Mulder hadn't had a cold in years, and he didn't relish the
thought of trying to do his job with a head cold. Besides,
he was itching to work on this case that had just fallen on
his desk the day before. It was a strange case - weren't they
all? - involving the robbery of a downtown federal bank. The
entire staff had somehow been knocked unconscious en masse, and
the bank had been robbed of every dime before any of the patrons
or employees recovered. Except that no drug or chemical agent had
been found in the vicinity, nor in the victims' systems.

He paused to rub his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Wonderful.
He was getting a headache. His head pounded relentlessly, and he
sighed. This was going to be a long day.

10:04 am. FBI Headquarters. Mulder's Office.

Scully sat in a chair, staring at some slides of some
strange cattle mutilations up north. This case had been
lying around the office for days, but neither could
determine what was unusual about it - except, of course,
the fact that these cows were inscribed with satanic verses.

She turned as the door opened, and smiled as she saw that
it was Mulder. It wasn't often that she got to the office
before he did, and it was nice to have a moment or two to
herself. Still, she was glad he was here.

"Good morning. Sleep through the alarm?"

"No, but I wish I could've," he sighed. His body slumped
ever so slightly, as if he'd been supporting a heavy
burden upon his shoulders.

That didn't sound like Mulder, she thought to herself.
Usually, he had a witty comeback to a comment like that.
Maybe he just wasn't in the mood to play that game today.
She looked at him a bit more closely, and saw that he looked
a little peaked. She wondered if he'd slept the night before.

Meanwhile, Mulder was trying to ignore the pounding in his
skull. Excedrin, he thought desperately. I need some Excedrin.

Scully clicked off the overhead projector, and went to the
file cabinet to retrieve the files they'd been working on.
Hmm. She withdrew the one marked "Unexplained Phenomena:
Unconsciousness by Suggestion." That was Mulder's addition,
but Scully had her doubts. Didn't she always?

"Okay, Mulder, we need to talk about the lab results. There's
no agent that we recognized in their blood, but its possible
that a combination of agents is responsible. I don't see any
evidence of hypnosis here."

Mulder willed himself to concentrate - or care - about what
Scully was saying. But his head was getting foggier and foggier,
and it was pounding to the rhythm of his heart. Wearily, he lifted
his head to look at her.

"I don't know, Scully." His voice sounded odd to his ears, and he
cleared his throat painfully. "There was no trace of..."

Suddenly, his head snapped forward with a gigantic sneeze, surprising
them both and nearly propelling him out of his chair.

"Gezundheit." Eyebrows raised, she handed him a box of tissues, and
he took one gratefully.

Scully looked concerned. "Mulder, are you coming down with something?"

Yes, he thought. "No," he told her. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Okay." She wasn't going to push it. "So, what were you saying?"

He blew his nose miserably. "Uh, there's been no agent found in
the air or anywhere else..."

"...yet," she interrupted him. "We haven't gotten the lab results
back yet from the fibers in the bank. We have no idea if anything
there might prove useful. Besides, Mulder, how would you explain the
symptoms that all the people complained about after they regained

He couldn't, and didn't particularly want to try. He cradled his
head in his hand, resting his elbow on his desk.

"You're right." He knew how uncharacteristic this reply was, and
knew what effect it would have on his partner. But he didn't
particularly care.

"What?" Scully couldn't believe it. "Are you telling me that you
agree that there must have been some causative agent involved?"

"Well, I..." Mulder paused.

Scully looked at him, puzzled, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Mulder suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he was about to
sneeze again, but didn't want to get caught in the middle of a sentence.
He could hardly communicate this to Scully, though. He sniffed. Mercifully,
he felt the sensation grow stronger exponentially, and he grabbed a tissue.

"Huh-CHOO!" he sneezed, and then sneezed again.

Okay, Scully thought, as she watched him go through this miserable routine.
He's definitely coming down with a head cold. Mulder was notorious for not
admitting to her that he was ailing, but it happened so rarely that she
noticed it immediately. Besides, she WAS a doctor, and she knew an upper
respiratory infection when she saw one.

"Mulder, you're sick," she scolded him gently. "Why'd you even come in today?"

He looked at her warily. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Scully. I
want to stay on this case."

Scully gave him a look. "Mulder, it's obvious you're not feeling well.
You can't even concentrate on what I'm saying, and you look exhausted."

Mulder sighed. Was it that obvious? He wanted to keep investigating the
office theft case, but at the same time, Scully was right. He was so weary
he couldn't even keep his head up, let alone have a dignified argument with
his contrary - yet, impossibly beautiful, he thought sheepishly - partner.

Resignedly, he allowed his upper body to sink forward, and he lowered his
head to the desk.

In a flash, Scully was at his side. She lay a cool hand on his forehead,
and the fingers of her other hand applied gentle pressure on his wrist to
check his pulse.

"I'm fine, Scully," he mumbled, but didn't even have the energy to lift his

"I'll be the judge of that," she told him mock-sternly. He was a bit
warm, but his pulse was close to normal. She had no doubt that his slight
flush would bloom into a full-blown fever by the end of the day, from the
looks of her haggard partner.

This intimate, caring gesture brought a lump to his throat. It was at times
like these when he questioned the nature of the close relationship he shared
with his wonderful, unreplaceable partner. He had feelings for her that
he'd never come close to exploring. He'd often wondered if they dared to
go beyond their current bond, which was already closer than any he could
have ever imagined. He'd come so close to losing her so many times, and
the thought of it nearly drove him insane. Although now was obviously
not the time, it still made him wonder if she'd ever felt that way about HIM.

"Mulder, get your coat. I'm driving you home." He was in no condition to be
at work.

"I can drive myself."

"Mulder, no chance. Look at yourself. You can barely keep your head up,
let alone drive yourself home."

He pulled himself out of his chair, unwilling to argue with her.
Momentarily, he swayed as the blood rushed from his head, making him
feel uncomfortably light-headed. He gulped.

Scully saw him look a bit unbalanced as he rose, and placed a steadying
hand on his shoulder. "Whoa. Are you feeling dizzy?"

He nodded mutely. Miserably.

"Okay, Mulder, put your arm over my shoulders, and don't bother arguing."

That was his Scully. No-nonsense as always, but especially when it came to
his well-being. Not even his feverish discomfort could cover up the swell
of love he felt for her at this moment. He wondered what he would do without
her in his life, and it wasn't the first time.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Startled, she looked up at him. The last time she could remember him
thanking her in that tone was when he'd woken up from a drug-induced
slumber, two days after she'd shot him for his own protection. He'd been
drugged and delusional, and was turning everyone against him with his
erratic behavior. She hadn't understood it at the time, but she stuck by
him nonetheless. And he'd thanked her. Thanked her for taking care of him,
for having faith in him and not abandoning him when he needed her most.

She took a deep, shuddery breath to achieve composure. She'd never felt
as alone and empty as she had when she'd thought that Mulder'd been killed
in that boxcar explosion. Those were horrible, trying times, but they were
way past them now. She hoped.

Snapping back to the present, Scully led her partner through the wings of
the FBI's main offices. They passed Skinner on the way, who nodded to them
both - but he did a double-take when he took in Mulder's disheveled
appearance and skidded to a stop.

"Agent Mulder, are you feeling all right?"

"He's feeling a bit under the weather, sir," Scully offered. "I think he'll
be spending the day in bed."

"I think that would be best," Skinner commented, looking Mulder up and down.
"I hope you feel better, Mulder."

Well, that was a first. "Thank you, sir," Mulder rasped weakly, and Skinner
turned to walk down the corridor. Mulder gave Scully a look, shaking his head.

Scully guided her partner through the doors of the Federal Building and
out to her car. She unlocked the passenger-side door first, and he sank
gratefully into the plush upholstery, his head rolling to one side.
Getting into her side of the car, she observed that Mulder's face was
a little flushed. His face was glistening with perspiration, she noted
to herself, and that probably meant his fever was on the rise.

"Take your jacket off, Mulder," she ordered. He looked at her strangely.
"I'll freeze my ass off, Scully."

"When people have a fever, they tend to want to bundle up, but that's
actually the last thing you should do," she explained to him. "Your body
should be able to effectively release heat, especially when there's excess
heat produced to ward off an infection. So when you bundle up with a fever,
you actually prevent heat loss, making it harder for your body to heal itself."

He looked at her appreciatively. Sometimes he felt that she knew
everything about everything. That was Scully. Wearily, he peeled off
his suit jacket, and shivered slightly.

Suddenly, he was bone-tired. He allowed his heavy lids to fall, and
immediately dozed off.

Scully turned to him, and could tell that he'd fallen asleep from the
regular, steady rise-and-fall of his chest. Good. He needed to rest.

11:29 am. Mulder Residence.

Scully brought her car to a halt in the parking lot of Mulder's apartment,
and turned off the engine. The sudden cessation of noise and movement roused
Mulder from his doze, and his eyes opened groggily.

"We're here," Scully told him gently. "How're you feeling?"

"I've felt better." He sneezed again, and Scully fumbled in her purse for a


"You're welcome."

She got out of the car, and went to the other side to help Mulder out.

"I'm okay, Scully," he tried to protest. He was getting a bit irritable,
and knew it. He just didn't feel like being mothered.

"I know." She sensed that he wanted to be left alone. Typical male. When
they got sick, they wanted to sneeze and suffer in silence, by themselves.

Well, he'd get his wish soon enough. She had to pursue the leads they'd
gathered on that theft case, and had to call the lab to find out about
those materials tests. She couldn't play doctor all day.

They walked into the elevator, and Mulder leaned up against the wall,
closing his eyes. He was utterly miserable, and wanted nothing more at
this moment than to lay down, cover himself with a thick, warm blanket,
and go to sleep. On his oh-so-comfortable futon. Oh, boy. His misery just
became a notch more acute.

With a ding, the elevator door opened. Mulder dragged himself down the
hall, with Scully running ahead to open the door for him. He walked into
the room, and lowered himself gratefully onto the futon.

Scully busied herself in his small-but-neat kitchen, making him a pot of
hot tea to soothe his breathing passages. She looked through his rather
limited supply of tea flavors, and selected chammomile for its medicinal

"Chammomile okay?"

"Mmm." Mulder was already falling asleep.

She wandered into Mulder's bathroom, and glanced into his medicine
cabinet. Finding what she was looking for, she walked back in.

"Mulder, open up."

He cracked open an eye. "Hmm?"

"C'mon, I've gotta take your temp. Open wide. Or should I do it the other way."

He snorted. "Not if you value your life."

She laughed. "All right, so it'll be the conventional method. Open."

Obediently, he allowed the thin cylinder of glass to be placed under his
tongue. God, he loved this woman. Who else would stick by him for crap like this?

Suddenly, a high whistle pealed from the kitchen, and Scully leapt up with
a squeal. "Tea's ready."

She came back into the room with two steaming hot mugs for the two of them.
Scully removed the thermometer, and frowned. Yup, he had a fever, all right.
A fever of 101. Low grade, so not serious, but high enough to make him feel
like complete and total crap. She told him what his temperature was, and he

"Here, have some tea," Scully offered. Mulder sipped his appreciatively.
"Mmm. Good choice."

"I thought so." Scully looked satisfied. They both sipped in silence
for a few minutes, until Mulder's eyelids began to droop again under
the relaxing influence of the steaming liquid. Scully saw that he was
getting groggy, and wisely took the mug from his hand to place it on
the table before he spilled it.

"Mulder.." she whispered, but he'd fallen asleep, his breathing steady
and regular.

Quietly, she went to his tiny, ratty linen closet to look for a blanket.
God, this place needed a feminine touch, she thought, and smiled. You
wanna be the one, Scully? Sometimes she didn't know what was stopping
her from exploring her tumultuous feelings for Mulder - at least, her
deeper, X-rated feelings. She found him so unbelievably alluring.
Something about those sensitive, puppy-dog eyes always made her melt.
There were so many times when there was a definite spark of sexual
tension between them - she knew he felt it as much as she did - and
it was all they could do to clear their throats and pretend like
nothing had occurred. There were even times that, despite Mulder's
best efforts, she'd seen more physical signs of his attraction for
her. To mention this would have been the height of thoughtlessness,
but she couldn't help but notice his arousal. It was flattering.
Hell, it was more than that. She felt the same way.

Finally, she managed to locate a careworn, bright, sunny yellow acrylic
blanket that looked hilariously out of place in Mulder's dark masculine
apartment. This would be a great thing to wake up to, she thought sneakily.

She walked back into his living room, and gently covered her sleeping
partner with the blanket, smiling as he stirred in his sleep.

She hated to leave him. With a gulp, she realized how true that was.

But it had to be done.

With a concerned look back, she walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.

1:38 pm. FBI Headquarters.

Scully sighed, trying to concentrate on the lab report that had just come in.
Frusteratingly, there were no traces of any contaminant on the premises of the
office building. She had no idea where to turn next. They'd both gone to the
site the day before, and turned up nothing unusual. She wanted to talk to some
of the victims, and realized that should be her next step.

Except for the fact that she wanted to be with Mulder, not quizzing a bunch
of bank tellers. In fact, she found herself wondering if she should call him
to check on him every time she passed the phone.

But the careful part of her mind vetoed that thought for two reasons. One,
the call would most likely wake him up, and he needed to sleep. Two, he might
get annoyed at her for "mothering" him too much. He was a big boy, and could
take care of himself.

But what if his fever spiked? What if he was lying on the floor, passed out
from fever and delirium? What if..?

Stop it! She pushed her hair out of her eyes, frusterated. He was fine. He
just had a cold.

But she still found herself thinking about him an hour later, and not the
case, as she spoke with one victim after another on the phone.

Finally, she just decided that enough was enough. Mulder was sick, and she
was going back to his apartment, duty-be-damned.

2:47 pm, Mulder's Apartment.

Mulder's eyes blinked open, and he drowsily rubbed them. He was very hot,
and threw off the blanket that had covered him in sleep. A hideous,
lemon-yellow thing that his Grandmother had given him a long time ago.
Leave it to Scully to put that on him. He chuckled.

Speaking of Scully. He looked around, and saw that his apartment was empty.
"Scully?" He felt a little sheepish, since it was obvious she wasn't here.
But you couldn't blame a guy for trying.

He felt curiously disappointed. Somehow, waking up to see her beautiful,
caring face would have been a whole hell of a lot nicer than waking up to
this hideous yellow monstrosity. Usually, he just liked to be left alone
when he was sick. When his mother used to fuss over him as a kid, he'd just
asked her to leave him alone, and had been grateful when Phoebe had followed
his wishes in college when he'd caught the occasional dorm flu.

But Scully.. was different. He actually WANTED her here. But she wasn't, and
he felt a frusterating pang of hurt and annoyance.

A moment later, the lock of the door began to click, and the door opened very
slowly. His heart sang with joy at her return. He surmised that Scully was
afraid he was sleeping, and was trying not to wake him. "Hey, Scully," he
rasped, his voice still thick with sleep, just to let her know he was awake.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," she teased him. He noticed that she was carrying a
brown paper bag.

Suddenly, a wonderful, homey aroma filled his nostrils, and his mouth began
to water. He suddenly realized he hadn't eaten a thing all day, even though
he hadn't been hungry up until then.

In an answer to his enquiring and eager glance, Scully informed him:
"Chicken soup."

Mulder was shocked. "You made me chicken soup?"

Scully smiled, and ruffled his mussed-up hair with her free hand."No,
I wish I could take the credit. I had them make up a fresh batch at that
great deli on M Street."

He sat up, and frowned as he realized how weak he was.

She came over, and placed a pillow behind his back to help him sit up.
"I also brought a movie, Mulder. I'm hoping you'll let me watch it with you."

"What is it?"

"An Affair to Remember. I couldn't help myself." Scully grinned.

Mulder grimaced. Not exactly a manly flick, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Scully busied herself in the kitchen, and emerged a moment later with a
big bowl full of steaming-hot chicken noodle soup, and a blue-checked napkin.

Wearily, he forced himself to sit up. It was amazing how tiring such a
simple action could be when you were sick.

Scully sat at the opposite end of the futon, approvingly watching him
spoon soup into his mouth with eager abandon. "Good?"

Did she even have to ask? "Mmm, more than good. It's incredible."

She beamed, pleased that she'd made the right choice. She'd debated
about getting a couple sandwiches for them both, but felt that soup
would be more appropriate under the circumstances.

Soon, though, Mulder lost his already fever-weakened appetite, and
leaned back on the futon. "Thanks, Scully. That was delicious. Compliments
to the chefess."

"Shall we do the movie, or do you want to sleep?" She could see that he
was getting tired again, and she didn't want to exhaust him.

"No, a movie's great," he mumbled contentedly. Now this was a way to
spend an afternoon. A movie in the machine, good food in his stomach,
and Scully by his side. Despite his cold, Mulder was surprised to
feel longing stir within him, and made a concerted effort to distract
himself from how gorgeous the petite redhead looked with light shining
upon her from the window by his desk.

Clearing his throat, he launched himself with all the strength he
could muster from the futon, and stumbled in a feverish fog into the

Emerging a minute or two later, he saw that she'd readied the movie
and was waiting for him to come back.

"Ready?" He nodded. Mulder lay himself back onto the futon, and they
watched the movie until both fell asleep - first Mulder, then Scully

At around 9 pm Scully awoke, and clicked off the TV when she saw that
only a blue screen remained of "Affair to Remember." She stretched,
noting ruefully that his futon was even less comfortable than it looked.

Glancing down at Mulder, she saw that he was still asleep, murmuring a
little in fitful slumber. She touched the back of her hand to his
forehead, and thought that his fever had gone down a bit from earlier
in the day. Hopefully, he'd feel better tomorrow.

She'd thought to bring a book with her, and settled herself in the
curve of Mulder's sleeping form, cuddling up with him on the thin sofa.
Why he didn't just get a bed was beyond her.

She fell asleep a few moments later, and slept peacefully through
the night.


The next morning, Mulder awoke feeling almost as good as new. Man,
Scully, that soup really does do wonders, Mulder thought with appreciation.

He looked around, and saw that his apartment was empty. He had to
fight back a tidal wave of disappointment. Oh well. What did he expect?
She couldn't very well sleep here. One more reason to get a bed, Mulder
reminded himself sternly, and then smiled at the implications.

Mulder arose carefully, and noticed that he felt completely fever-free.
Sure, he was still stuffed-up, but he could handle that.

He stripped off his jeans and boxers, and headed towards the bathroom to
take a long, hot shower. He could feel the sweat that had dried on his
body from the fever, and wanted to rinse that feeling away.

Mulder opened the door to his bathroom, and froze when he realized
the mirror was steamy and the shower was on. He turned with a start,
and gasped.

Scully was standing there, in the middle of the room, completely naked.

Both gaped at each other, not knowing what to do. Scully covered
herself with a towel, and Mulder fumbled with the doorknob, which
the moist steam from the shower had made too slick to turn.

Then, his flailing arm bumped into Scully, and her towel fluttered
to the ground. She gasped with surprise, and this time, Mulder froze.

He found himself responding to her, and he swallowed reflexively.
Oh, god.This is not how I imagined this moment, not in the least.
He drank her exquisite form in with the hunger of a man who had gone
without for far too long. She was so beautiful, so perfect. Her skin
was the color of pale pink rose pedals, and her breasts curved
invitingly. He'd never felt such a strong attraction for a woman
before in all his life. But it wasn't the attraction you felt towards
just any beautiful woman. It was the attraction you felt towards a woman
whose mind's beauty and purity rivaled the physical, a woman he loved more
than he could even admit to himself, and knew more than he knew himself.
He didn't know what the future would bring. All he knew for certain was
that he wanted her. More than anything in the world.

Meanwhile, Scully's first instinct, which was to cover herself up and
avert her eyes from Mulder's naked form, gave way to enormous attraction.
She just couldn't help it. His body was absolutely perfect, the body of a
well-trained athlete. His legs were tanned and well-muscled, and his
abdomen rippled with a noticeable six-pack. And he was very, very aroused,
his penis full and erect. She gulped. Oh my god. This was a moment she'd
fantasized about ever since she'd met him and he'd thrown her for a loop
with his wacked-out theories and his bewitching animal magnetism. But he'd
been off-limits. Even when she could admit to herself that what she felt
was way more than just professional or even platonic, she knew she could
never act on her feelings. It would just be too complicated, too..
right. That was it. It would be so right that she'd never do her job
again. But that didn't seem to matter anymore. She cared about this
man more than anything - or anyone - else in her life, and she knew
she wanted him with utter certainty and clarity.

As they came to their respective conclusions, their eyes met, and a
palpable spark passed between them. A mutual understanding. This had
to happen, and it would cause a major upheaval in their lives. But
neither could wait any longer.

All of a sudden Scully was in Mulder's arms, and they were kissing
hungrily, needingly, as if this love were the only thing keeping
them from life and death, which was a world without the other. His
tongue darted powerfully into her mouth, and she tasted him, a
saltiness that made her feel giddy with its power. Their flesh
pressed together, and Scully moaned, a cry that went to the core
of her being.

Unable to resist her any longer, Mulder lifted her delicate frame, and
carried her into the shower, which was spouting steamy hot water. Both
of them gasped as the scalding water hit their bare skin, but neither
cared. They existed only within the world they had created for the other.
Mulder went down on his knees, kissing her, tasting her, as he felt a
joy unlike any that had ever existed. She kneaded his hair with her hands,
crying tears of joy as she was racked with spasms of pure, unadulterated

Then she took him in her, and it was an ecstasy otherworldly
in its glory.She cried out, and her hands gripped his back,
kneading him as spasms racked her body. He thrust into her,
and they were one being, one mind, one entity that created
such a formidable alliance that Mulder never thought he would
fear losing her again. She was a part of him, just as he was of her.

And then it was over, and they slid down the tiled shower
wall, allowing the water to glide over their tingling skin.
They lay in each other's arms, wishing for all the world that
time would stop and the shower would be their fortress, their
protection from the world without.

After several minutes of luxuriating in each other's arms,
Scully was the first to speak.

Scully tipped her chin up to him, and smiled, momentarily wishing
she could lose himself in his bottomless hazel eyes.

"I take it you're feeling better this morning," Scully commented
wryly, and slicked back a section of his damp hair that had fallen
into his eyes.

"Much better, and I owe it all to Dr. Scully's patented super-
collosal chicken soup to the stars," he intoned in a tone
reminiscent of an infomercial testimonial.

She chuckled. "You know, I spiked it with an aphrodisiac."

"Oh really," he teased her, cocking an eyebrow. "You little devil."

"Do you know what this means?"

She thought she did. "Mulder, we can make it work. I know that
agents are discouraged from having a relationship, but we can do
it if anyone can. We know each other too well. Besides, I never
want to lose you again. Not when I feel like our lives are just beginning."

Mulder looked at Scully, and kissed her forehead. "Scully, I feel the
same way, but that's not what I meant by 'do you know what this means.'"

She looked at him quizzically.

Mulder chuckled, stroking her coppery hair. "I meant that something
tells me it'll be my turn to play doctor with YOU in a few days," he
murmured apologetically.

She kissed the tip of his nose affectionately, to let him know that
she forgave him. In fact, she realized with a delicious shudder,
she was kind of looking forward to it.

She nuzzled him, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

--- End ---

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