Laundry Day by Lolabeegood E-mail: lolabeegood@gmail.com Distribution: Archive freely with my name attached. Rating: PG Categories: S, R Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance Spoilers: Up to and including IWTB, but this takes place before it. Summary: A day in the life of Fox Mulder while living in long-term isolation. Author's Notes: Just a little something that has been working itself out in my head and I thought I'd write out.Honourable mention goes to FED EX and the Banana Republic. I do not own the characters. I do not make any money from this. Enjoy! ************************************* He sat quietly reading a book while lounging on the living room couch. His body slack against the soft cushions while his head rested on a pillow and his back hung over the edge. He had been shifting around on said couch reading, in various positions, for several hours now. His glasses slipped occasionally low on his nose and sometimes his neck stiffened causing him to seek new bearings in his limited space. Mulder's bare feet dangled over the arm rest as his one hand reached out and flicked the page over. He was reading Andre Alexis' novel 'Childhood' and enjoying every detail of the character's indifferent upbringing, indentifying with it in many ways he didn't wish to delve into. He heard the washing machine shut off and his eyes flicked toward the clock. It was creeping up on 2 pm, plenty of time to hang out the clothes so they could dry before dark. The weather was starting to cool in Virginia and Mulder noticed that it had been taking longer and longer for clothes to dry outside on the line. He finished reading his page, dog eared the corner, snapped the book shut and threw it on the coffee table. As he rose from his seat his eyes caught the dust scattering down the dirt road they lived on. It was a FED EX truck driving way too quickly down the road onto its next delivery. Mulder walked toward the big living room window and he looked toward the gate. His eyes caught on the white box sitting out of place by the gate post. A package had arrived, possibly some books he had ordered. Mulder walked toward the front door and dumped his large feet into a pair of navy blue Crocs. As he stepped off the porch he noticed the wind pick up and swirl around him. Fall was starting to barrel in and there wouldn't be many outdoor laundry days left. He meandered his way toward the gate and thought of how many times he'd made this trip. It seemed as though at least once or twice a week a package arrived and was dropped off at their gate. Scully had arranged with all couriers that parcels were just left at the gate post. It was better then him having to anxiously walk out and worry about exposure to outside individuals. They didn't think he was still actively being sought but, you could never be too careful. He reached down to pick up the box, expecting weight, and was greeted with very little. 'Not the books I'd ordered, after all' he thought as he swiveled the package around to look at the source of the delivery. "Banana Republic" he muttered to himself and shook his head. Scully was at it again. Ordering clothes online for a man who never went anywhere. Honestly, he only needed some sweats and a couple of t-shirts. It wasn't like he was going to the office, or out to the movies, or even seeing anyone but her. If it wasn't for her, he would actually change less because he really didn't get that dirty. But, she hadn't ordered anything for him in a while. This package was a little odd. He huffed at the cool air, slung the package under his arm and directed himself back toward the house. He knew the package was for him because Scully always tried on clothes before buying them; she would never just order something online for herself and hope for the best. That was what she did for him. Upon entering the house Mulder dropped the box and the coffee table next to his book and decided that laundry held more importance than Scully's latest shopping adventure. He walked down the hall towards the wet pile of clean clothes and grabbed a basket along the way. Mulder flipped open the washing machine and piled the damp clothes into a laundry hamper. He heaved the basket up and trotted towards the back door of their house. He shoved his feet half-heartedly into a pair of running shoes and clomped out onto the back porch. Mulder started to hang the various pieces of laundry on the line. Scully's nightshirt soon hung next to his sweatpants and her cute striped underpants next to his socks. When all was hung up satisfactorily he went inside and found himself rubbing his arms for warmth. It was probably time to turn on the heat in the house. He decided to suffer through the cold, convinced the afternoon sun would warm up the place. Mulder sat down on the couch and spun the package around in his hands. What damage could she possibly do at Banana Republic? Taking out his pocket knife he slashed open the top of the package with great precision. After 5 years of opening these boxes he had become quite good at it. He pulled apart the fifteen layers of plastic to first reveal a pair of jeans. He pulled them out of the box and looked at them critically. They were the type of jean that was meant to look old even when they were brand new. Apparently the word for this, according to Banana Republic, was 'Heritage'. Mulder looked at the size and noted they would probably be a good fit. He then reached back into the box to reveal a long sleeve grey t-shirt with a motorcycle across the front of it. He found himself laughing at the thought of it. He had originally told Scully he would like to buy a motorcycle when they moved here so he could go into town. She had quoted fatality rates at length and the subject was dropped. Finally he noticed one last item in the box. It was a pair of boxer shorts with tiny stars all over them. He wondered if Scully's shopping for him was now expanding beyond outerwear, or, if she was trying to tell him that the rest of his underwear was starting to look ratty. He threw the boxers on his new clothing pile and quickly eyed the packing list. She had ordered the 'outfit' for him last week. He couldn't think of any reason for the purchase. Maybe Scully was just enjoying having a Ken doll to play dress-up with. The oven beeped and Mulder's head snapped toward the kitchen. The Moroccan lamb dish he was making needed to be stirred as it cooked slowly in the oven. It would be ready when she got home. He wasn't a fully domesticated male but, Mulder did enjoy making something nice for them once or twice a week. He figured Scully worked such long hours that it was always nice to do this for her. He rose from the couch to stir the sweet smelling meal before pausing to take out a package of couscous and set it on the counter. He heard the gate click shut and he walked toward the front window. Her car was idling just on this side of the gate as he watched her slide into the driver's seat and slam the door shut. The car moved thoughtfully up the path toward their house and within minutes she was inside the door and taking in a deep breath."Mulder, that smells amazing," she smiled at him as he leaned over to kiss her lips. "Just a little Moroccan something I cooked up." He said as he shyly pulled away. She found it amazing that he had become so shy about his culinary abilities. He was a natural. "Moroccan, really?" she asked shrugging out of her coat "I'm glad I got off work early, then." She looked over to the opened box on the table, all the packaging material and the pile of clothes on the couch. "They came?" she asked looking toward him. "Yeah, I just don't know the reason," he answered honestly. "Mulder?" she smiled at him. "What?" he asked, not sure what she was getting at. "It's your birthday" she said taking a step towards him "you didn't honestly forget, did you?" The confused look on his face answered her question. "Oh, god, Mulder" she smiled leaning into him and pulling him toward her with a smile. "I can't believe you forgot your own birthday." "I just thought it was laundry day" he replied softly as he held her tight. *************************************************** The end.