Pleasurable Indoor Activities
By Christine Leigh

Summary: Rainy day chatter. Season seven. Set after the events of all things and Jesouhaite, but before Requiem.
Rating: G
Category: V
Spoilers: None.

Mulder's apartment

"She wasn't going to stop, Scully. If we hadn't gotten out of there we would be listening to chapter twenty by now. You saved the day."

"Short story long?"

"Make that no story. None, whatsoever. She was always the polar opposite of my mother. I don't think the concept of silence is in her consciousness." Mulder got up from the couch, a mug in his hand. "Would you like some more?"

"Yes. Cinnamon, please. Just a sprinkle."

"One with cinnamon, one with marshmallows. Got it."

"Mulder, why did we stop there anyway? If I'd known how good you are at this, I'd never have considered it."

"Well, you didn't, though."

He threw her a smile before going to the kitchen that warmed her almost as much as the delicious hot chocolate they had been drinking while snuggling and watching the rain on this dark afternoon. Who knew? Fox Mulder, hot chocolate man. And snuggler. Two more revelations in the succession that had started in this same spot on the night tea had been her beverage of choice.

They had been out earlier in the day when it started to pour. After about half an hour of driving around in that, Scully had had a desire for a cup of hot chocolate -- a departure for her. She hadn't been a much of a cocoa drinker since childhood, but suddenly it sounded so good, and they had stopped at a bakery that was renowned for its delicate pastry and good coffee, in the hope that it served hot chocolate as well. Before they could find out, though, they were blind sided. Or as Mulder commented in the car after their escape, "of all the coffee joints in all the towns in the world, how on earth did she happen to find this one?"

Annemarie, cousin of his mother, queen of the non sequitur, and purveyor of more details per minute than any person should know let alone share, about any other person or persons, had, after greeting him, not skipped a breath before launching into what Mulder was sure would be at least 1001 tales that no one needed to hear. He would be eternally grateful to Scully, who after a ten-minute hour had passed, spoke to say that her back was really worse and that she needed to be flat on it. He'd never loved her more. Annemarie was still talking as they walked out the door, and Mulder wondered if she even noticed that he'd given her a hug.

"Here you go."

"Mmmm." Scully cupped the mug in both hands and closed her eyes, taking in the wonderful scent. "Thank you." Mulder sat down and put his arm around her, holding his mug with its melting marshmallows on his thigh.

"It's not letting up out there."

"That's fine by me, Mulder. Quite." She drank and then laid her head against his shoulder. Life had become good in the truest sense of the word.

"Do you know something, Scully? As a kid, I hated the rain."

"Really? That must have been rough, growing up where you did."

"Anything that kept me indoors was a bad thing. I wanted to be outside playing ball or swimming, or exploring the woods behind our house. Indoors during the day was not my thing at all."

"I always loved the rain, Mulder. Once on a rainy day, Melissa and I built a tent down in the basement with two old bedspreads draped across the furniture. It was our private fort. No brothers allowed. Mom went along with our scheme and kept Bill and Charlie out of the basement for two days. Also, I loved to read when it was raining. I remember reading three Nancy Drews and starting "Jane Eyre" one weekend when I was thirteen. I was in heaven."


"I was, Mulder. Always. I think you knew that, though."

"Yeah. I noticed that you do have a few bookshelves that are occupied. I did read as a child, Scully, but always at night before going to sleep. Mostly ghost stories and such when I was younger, and comic books. Later I must have read "The Martian Chronicles" back-to-back about three times. I remember being up late with the flashlight under the covers more than a few nights with that."

Scully pictured the boy under the blankets ensconced in the world of wine filled canals and telepathic beings with golden eyes that had populated Bradbury's vision of Mars, and then turned her face to the man. He was the most beautiful sight, and she placed a chocolatey kiss on his ear. He then bent to return the gesture upon her lips, and soon neither were thinking of childhood libraries.

"What was that you said earlier about your back, Scully?"

"You mean when I saved the day?"

"More specifically."

"You mean about needing to be flat on it?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her. "I think it might be time for a little therapy."

"Can we take our hot chocolate with us?"

"Absolutely. I'll even make more later, if you want it." He grinned again. "That makes two."

"Two what?"

"Pleasurable indoor activities. Making hot chocolate for you, and then making love to you." Their next kiss lasted much longer, and when they stopped Mulder made a mental note to send Annemarie a card at Christmas this year, and Scully wondered if she'd ever move from this spot again.

"I don't want anything more, Mulder."

They were quiet for a few minutes, and just sat looking out the window, happy to be on this side of it, and together. Then, they rose.

The rain continued.

~ End ~

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This story is (c) Copyright 2005 by Christine Leigh. "The X-Files" and its characters are the property of the Fox Network and Ten-Thirteen Productions and are borrowed here without profit or intent for profit.