Sunday by Lolabeegood E-mail: lolabeegood@gmail.com Distribution: Anywhere as long as my name stays attached. Rating: R Category: S Keywords: Mulder/Scully, Post-series Spoilers: The whole series and all movies, although this takes place before IWTB Summary: A day in the life of Fox Mulder while living in long-term isolation. Author's Notes: This is part of my 'Day' series of stories. It can be read independent of all the others as they are only loosely linked. Enjoy! I do not own the characters. ************************************** Dana Scully padded into their bedroom in her underwear, t-shirt and floppy socks; a cup of coffee warmed her hands. She took a tentative sip of the beige liquid hoping it would warm her up; knowing her down duvet would do a better job. Mulder looked up at her from behind his reading glasses and for a moment she saw regret in his eyes. "Just because you decided to give it up, doesn't mean I have to," she said softly as she set down the cup and pulled back the covers. "I know," he groaned before he looked back toward his paper. Mulder had read an article almost a week ago about High Cortisol levels from caffeine leading to weight gain in the mid section, an area of his body he was becoming growingly sensitive about. He had sworn off caffeine since then and Scully had tried to be supportive, taking her coffee at work, but it was Sunday morning and she needed her routine. "Mulder, one cup isn't going to make much of a difference," she said as she picked up the section of the paper she had earlier abandoned. "It's the point," he said distractedly. "It's all or nothing." "You look fine, you know," she said again for posterity. "It's not uncommon for a man your age to start to carry more weight around his midsection. You work out and take care of yourself, Mulder. Many men your age would kill to be as healthy as you." He ruffled his paper and glanced sideways at her. He knew she was placating him. She put on her own glasses and snapped her paper to begin reading. Nothing she had said about his body being beautiful seemed to register with him lately and she wasn't sure why. And so they read in silence for over a half hour, each embedded in their own articles. It was their Sunday routine; reading the paper in bed with coffee. They had no other obligations and this was a luxury they firmly held onto each week. At first, Scully had felt guilty about spending the whole morning in bed reading for pleasure. She would think of the garden that needed tending, medical journals the lay stacked on her desk, dishes piled in the sink, and the bed that needed changing. But Mulder had been relentless in his insistence that this was the proper way to spend a Sunday morning as a couple. So, she relented and week after week she had gotten more used to the idea, comfortable with the sheer laziness of it all, content in this routine. Now, years later, she couldn't picture a Sunday morning spent any other way. In her youth, Sundays had been a day devoted to God. She had spent them in uncomfortable dresses sitting in a pew trying to look as interested in the mass as her mother. The rest of the day involved staying out of her mother's way while she prepared what appeared to be an elaborate roast beef meal. Many times, relatives or friends came by, their kids waiting to be amused and taken care of by her as she got older. Then, there were times in college where she'd forgotten the day because she was so wrapped up in a paper or a project. Her mother would call late Sunday night and ask her if she went to mass, she would be honest and would hear the sad sigh across the phone line. Then there were years when she knew it was Sunday and would still not go to mass, her conviction and belief wavering. Now, she felt that church wasn't the place for her; her sanctuary was here in bed with him, a paper in her hand, a coffee steaming next to her. "Did you know Dizzy Gillespie ran for the presidency?" Mulder asked her as he lowered his paper. "He what?" Scully asked shocked as she lowered her own. "In 1964," Mulder said. "I didn't know that," she smiled over at him. She saw him pause briefly before speaking. "I'm sorry about the coffee," he said as his eyes met hers. "What are you sorry about?" She asked. "You didn't give it up, but I was pissed when I saw you with it," he said honestly. "I know," she said back. "I really can take my paper down stairs if it would..." "Scully, don't be ridiculous," he dismissed her. "It's just a cup of coffee." "Mulder, what is it really?" She turned her body to face him more fully."It's nothing," he said as he looked away from her. "Mulder," she said softly as she rested a hand on his arm. "You're going to think...don't worry about it," he said, still trying to hide. "I want to know," she said truthfully. "Why are you so hung up on your body lately?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know if this is something all men go through or...or if," he said as he rubbed his eye. "I don't really have any other men around me and..." "What?" She asked, concerned. "I'm getting old, Scully." He said as he met her eyes. "And not old as in slowly creeping up on me, old as in one day I woke up and looked in the mirror and thought 'who the fuck is that?' old" She kept his gaze and waited for him to continue. "It seems as though I suddenly have a gut and my chest hair is going grey. I'm all old man freckly and I have areas where I swear my hair is thinning. When we're making love it takes longer for me to get it up and one day I'm scared it just won't happen. And don't give me that doctor shit about the body's natural process because I swear I didn't look like this a few months ago." She rolled her lips between her teeth and thought of the best way to respond. "Mulder, you turn 47 in the fall," she began softly. "You know that logically..." "Intellectually I get it Scully," he said, exhausted. "But the reality is just a little more than I can handle." "Mulder, you don't seem to listen to me," she said exasperated. "I love you, and I've told you that I think you're wonderful just as you are. But I understand that this is more about your feelings towards yourself than anything to do with me." He nodded his head, embarrassed by his admission. "I don't know, Scully. I just feel old all of a sudden. As a psychologist I get it, but as a man..." "What can I do?" She asked, wanting to help. "I don't know," he said softly. "Maybe it's just me, maybe I just need to get over it." "How about this?" She asked as she snuggled in closer to him. "That's nice," he smiled down at her as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "Tell me about Dizzy Gillespie," she said as she kissed the side of his face. He looked down at her and smiled. "Scully, you don't have to..." "Tell me about Dizzy Gillespie," she implored. He sighed and thanked his lucky stars he had a woman as wonderful as her. "If he was president, he would have had Malcolm X as his attorney general," Mulder said as he lifted his paper to read to her. "I wonder who he would have picked as his secretary of state," Scully giggled. "Duke Ellington," Mulder grinned at her. "And he wanted to re-name the White House the Blues House." "I love Sunday mornings," Scully sighed as she leaned into his chest. He kissed the top of her head and started to read aloud. ********************************** the end.