From: bcfan@shaw.ca   
      
   TITLE: The Breakfast Club   
   AUTHOR: bcfan   
   FEEDBACK:  bcfan@shaw.ca   
   WEBSITE:  bcfanfic.tripod.com   
   CLASSIFICATION:  M/S UST   
   SPOILERS: post Amor Fati   
   Notes at the end.   
   SUMMARY:  Nurturing a relationship - one breakfast   
   at a time.   
      
      
   ***   
      
      
   Monday was two bagels in a brown paper bag with a side of   
   orange juice.   
      
   Scully smiled as she heard Mulder shuffle to the door.   
   When he opened it - sleepy eyed and rumpled in t-shirt and   
   sweats, trying to hide his bemusement - she stopped smiling   
   and blinked back concern.  He'd obviously forgotten why she   
   was there.   
      
   "Hi, Mulder.  How're you feeling?"   
      
   "Okay."  He lightly touched the bandages above his temple.   
      
   "We're leaving for the doctor's appointment in a few   
   minutes.  I know you're not supposed to take your   
   medication on an empty stomach, so I brought breakfast."   
      
   "Oh. Thanks."  He gestured her inside, wandered to the   
   bathroom.   
      
   Scully heard water running.  She went into the kitchen,   
   grabbed a plate and a knife, found his medicine on the   
   counter, then brought everything back to the coffee table.   
      
   She rapped on the bathroom door.  "Mulder, would you like   
   cream cheese or butter?"   
      
   "Huh?"  Mulder stuck his head out the door, toothbrush   
   hanging from the corner of his mouth.   
      
   "Cream cheese or butter on your bagels?  I brought both."   
      
   "Plain is fine.  I'm not very hungry."   
      
   Scully's sharp eyes couldn't miss his bruised eyes and thin   
   fingers, but she bit her teeth against a doctor's lecture,   
   chose a mild comment.  "The bagels are fresh."   
      
   Mulder pulled out his toothbrush and smiled.  "Sounds   
   good."   
      
   He buttoned his shirt as he emerged from the bathroom, sat   
   down on the sofa to tie his running shoes.  Mulder gestured   
   to the plate.   
      
   "Care to join me?"   
      
   "No thanks, I already ate."   
      
   Mulder nodded, washed down his meds with orange juice, then   
   stood with a bagel in his hand.   
      
   "Next time, Scully."   
      
   *   
      
   Tuesday was a double order of poppy seed muffins and decaf   
   lattes.   
      
   Scully brushed an invisible wrinkle on her suit, knocked   
   twice on Mulder's door.  She refused to analyse her   
   impulsive decision to check on him before work.   
      
   "Breakfast, Scully?"  The corners of his mouth lifted as he   
   pointed to the bag.  "If you're going to bring food, come   
   on in."   
      
   She followed Mulder to the coffee table, watched the   
   stretch of his back and set of his shoulders through his   
   thin shirt.  His solid physicality - so close to being   
   lost.  Scully's hand was steady as she divided up their   
   breakfast, but she felt a slight tremor on the inside.  So   
   close.   
      
   Mulder swallowed two pills with his latte, grabbed his   
   muffin and took a bite.  "This tastes great."   
      
   "I'm glad you like it.  Do you have any plans for today?"   
      
   He shrugged and rubbed his chin, gave her a pirate's leer   
   from a whiskered face and spiky hair, which stood in   
   disarray above his turban of bandages.   
      
   "Take a shaving vacation.  Surf the net.  Knicks are on   
   t.v. later.  Good times."   
      
   Mulder stretched his arms above his head, muffin crumbs   
   clinging to his stubble.  As he relaxed, one arm found its   
   way behind Scully's back, and he patted her shoulder once,   
   lightly.   
      
   Scully stopped herself from leaning into Mulder's touch.   
   She took a deliberate sip of her latte and nibbled at her   
   muffin while mock complaining about an office full of   
   paperwork.   
      
   *   
      
   On Wednesday, the door was unlocked.  Scully heard Mulder's   
   shouted, "Come in," before she had time to knock.   
      
   She'd been dreaming of Missy when she woke, and had stopped   
   at an organic market.  Her sister had spent years preaching   
   a health food rap, and there was no doubt in Scully's mind   
   that Mulder needed feeding up with healthy food.  It was   
   only logical.  Proper nutrition would lead to a quicker   
   recovery.   
      
   Mulder gazed up curiously from his spot in front of the   
   t.v.  "Watcha got?"   
      
   "I'm cooking this morning, Mulder.  Do you have a toaster?"   
      
   "Of course.  This place has all the accoutrements of   
   civilized dining."   
      
   Scully stepped into the kitchen.  "Where is it?"   
      
   Mulder squeezed around her and crouched low, fishing with   
   long arms in the back of a bottom cabinet.  "Ta da."  He   
   held up an avocado clunker from the 1970s, covered in   
   grime.   
      
   He stood and dusted the top with the hem of his shirt, set   
   it on the counter.  "Do you need any help?"   
      
   "No thanks.  I have something in mind."   
      
   A nod.  "Can you drop by before work tomorrow, Scully?   
   I'll organize breakfast."   
      
   Scully smiled.  "Sounds good."   
      
   She waited until Mulder wandered back into the other room   
   before starting.  Scully admitted to herself that she was   
   nervous about her culinary skills, even though last night's   
   practice omelette had been perfect.   
      
   Scully took range-free eggs, grated cheese, chopped organic   
   scallions, butter, and multigrain toast out of her bag, and   
   ran a soapy cloth over the toaster before drying it   
   carefully.  She switched on the burner under a cast iron   
   skillet.  Began the toast.  Got out two plates from an open   
   shelf.   
      
   Soon the egg and scallion mix was bubbling.  Scully   
   sprinkled on cheese, and carefully began to fold it.   
      
   Her jaw clenched as the omelette broke, and she poked at   
   the eggs until they were done.  Dividing the mess onto two   
   plates, Scully added toast and forks, then carried them to   
   the coffee table.   
      
   Mulder raised an eyebrow, and Scully raised one back.  "Old   
   family recipe - cheesy eggs."   
      
   "Smells good."   
      
   Mulder ate with obvious relish and Scully relaxed.  Really,   
   the eggs weren't too bad.  Pretty good, in fact.   
      
   Plate clean, Mulder sat back and sighed, patting his belly.   
   "Way to a man's heart, Scully."   
      
   Scully snorted.  "Fat men must love their wives."   
      
   Mulder held up a finger.  "I should have been clearer.   
   Cooking is only one of the ways."   
      
   A teasing look.  "I'll remember that."  She rose, headed   
   for the door.  "See you tomorrow."   
      
   "Count on it, Scully."   
      
   *   
      
   Thursday was Mulder's turn.   
      
   With curiosity as itchy as day old sunburn, Scully   
   deliberately evened her pace down the hall as she knocked   
   and opened the door.  The coffee table was crowded.   
      
   "Breakfast of Champions," Mulder pointed to the cereal.   
   "Orange juice.  Toast."   
      
   Mulder lounged back on his sofa, a satisfied pasha.   
   Remains of the multigrain loaf were piled high with butter   
   and jam.   
      
   "A breakfast feast."  Scully scraped off most of a thick   
   layer of topping, shrugged apologetically to Mulder and   
   touched her waistline.  Mulder smirked while downing his   
   meds.   
      
   "You think you're gaining weight?  I bet I could fit two   
   hands around your waist, Scully.  Want me to try?"   
      
   Scully could feel heat flood her cheeks, refused to look at   
   his elegant hands.  "Not necessary.  The scale doesn't   
   lie."   
      
   "Hmm." Mulder traced a complicated pattern with one finger   
   on the space between them.  "Why don't we go out for   
   breakfast tomorrow morning?  At Sophie's?  Then we can each   
   choose what we want."   
      
   "Sounds good."   
      
   Scully nibbled her toast.  She poked at her cereal and   
   finished the juice.  Standing reluctantly, she began, "I'd   
   better go to work."   
      
   "Want to go for a walk?"   
      
   "What?"   
      
   "Want to go for a walk first - get some exercise?"   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)