Date: Sun, 07 May 2000 10:33:32 GMT Subject: New: A Funny Thing Happened at 2:30 in the Morning (1/1) TITLE: A Funny Thing Happened at 2:30 in the Morning AUTHOR: Robby Keofe E-MAIL: skeeter@bcinet.net CLASSIFICATION: MSR, UST, a bit o' H RATING: G (yeah, but give it a shot anyway) SPOILERS: "all things," tiny "Triangle." SUMMARY: See title. :-) FEEDBACK: PLEASE!!! (skeeter@bcinet.net) ARCHIVE: Certainly. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. NOTES: I apologize to the brilliant Steven Sondheim, for shamelessly stealing and warping his title 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.' NOTES 2: This serves as part one of a two-part story. The second part will follow. SPECIAL THANKS: To Angela, who inspired this, in both her post "all things" story and her incessant use of 'Hmpf.' There's a 'Hmpf' in there for you somewhere, A. :-) "A Funny Thing Happened at 2:30 in the Morning" By Robby Keofe I wake up to the sound of a quiet gurgling; for a moment I think it's the fish tank, but as I fully adjust to reality I realize it's my stomach. My neck hurts like hell; couldn't he have at least turned me over onto my back before leaving me with this scratchy blanket? I creep to Mulder's kitchen, and begin rooting around for something to eat. His refrigerator is a smorgasbord of leftover takeout. I open a few containers; Mulder is one of those irritating people who eats everything but a few bites and saves the rest, as though he ever had the intention of eating two forkfuls of fried rice. That's a male idiosyncrasy, I believe - I, for one, have never left one meatball all by its little lonesome in my fridge. Not that any of this food can be consumed by humans. I'm surprised that his refrigerator hasn't been condemned by the health department or the CDC. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Boo." I jump about three feet in the air and slam the refrigerator shut, turning to face a sleepy Mulder with mussed hair and cloudy eyes. He's grinning, his stubbly cheeks shadowy, his hair sticking up in about fifteen different directions. This is the Mulder I fell in love with, the soft, gentle Mulder that makes the bastard that ditches me and acts like a total jerk just because I won't haul my ass to England seem a million miles away. "Looking for something?" He asks, padding closer to me. "Yeah. You got anything edible around here?" I gripe good- naturedly, leaning back on the counter. I catch sight of the time on the microwave; 2:18 a.m. "Nope." He says flatly, but he's smiling. I can't help a faint grin as I wrap my arms around myself. "Chilly?" He asks, sounding concerned. I shake my head, an attempt to fend him off. It doesn't work, and he walks over to me, hugging me to his warm body. Maybe it's my sleep-addled brain, but the only word that comes to mind is 'yummy.' I nuzzle my face in his chest, and I feel him smile against my hair. "What?" I ask, turning my face to the side to look up at him. He's grinning. "You're like a kitten. You're cuddly like a kitten." He says sheepishly. I turn my face back into his chest, not wanting him to see me smile. He's so Mulder. Any other man would've raped me by now, but no, not Mulder. To him I'm just 'cuddly like a kitten.' I may be Scully the Untouchable, but at least I'm cuddly. Hmpf. I try to pull away, but he doesn't let go. For a moment I think he's fallen asleep. "Uh, Mulder?" I ask cautiously. "Mmm?" He murmurs, ruffling my hair with his warm breath. Good, at least he's awake. Suddenly, I have this hilarious image in my head of what would happen if he really was asleep, and I just stepped away, leaving him to fall into a heap o' Mulder on the floor. I can see him now, all arms and legs, blinking up at me in surprise. Poor Mulder. It's pathetic, but it's remarkably funny, too. I'm not difficult to amuse at 2:24 in the morning. I begin to laugh, really laugh, for the first time in a long time. "What?" He asks, fighting the urge to laugh along with me, despite the fact that I'm hysterical at his expense. "What if you just fell? Like, whomp!" I manage to force out between giggles. "I, uh, I think I'm missing it," He says, still trying not to laugh. "It's funny," I assure him. "Uh-huh. And you're not." He tells me, though he's grinning widely. "Mulder?" I say suddenly, calming down. "Yeah?" He asks softly. "I'm hungry." I announce finally. He laughs, sounding relieved. I think he expected me to say something serious. I almost did, too. I'm glad I changed my mind. "What is the *matter* with you tonight?" He questions, chuckling. His happiness is contagious. I don't believe this; I've captured complete joy at almost 2:30 on a Monday morning, in a kitchen filled with scary food. And Mulder. The kitchen is filled with Mulder. His smell, his stubble scratching at my head, even the aforementioned scary food - it's all so very Mulder. I can laugh again. Relief washes over me in waves; I'm not broken, I'm not damaged, I can still laugh. "Scully, what is *up* with you?" "I don't know, Mulder." I say softly. I do know. I'm not lost, Mulder. I'm not dead. Please tell me you can see it. Please tell me you can see that I'm alive. "I'm glad you're here," He says quietly. He does know. He always has. "There are so many choices, Mulder . . ." I respond after a moment. "I belong here. With you. I made the right choice. I belong with you." I conclude, my voice barely a whisper. I've exposed my heart, my soul, more so than I ever imagined I could. I'm waiting for Mulder. Who begins to snort with laughter. "What??" I question sharply at his response. "I meant -" He has to gasp for air, he's laughing so hard. I've never seen him like this. "I just meant that," He pauses again, inhaling deeply, regaining control. "That I'm glad you're *here,* as in, my apartment. Not here as in, here- here, this point in time, just the physical here." He giggles again. "But I'm glad you're with me in the other way, too." He adds quickly. I've never been so humiliated in my life. I begin to search the room for my weapon, concocting a mental murder-suicide plot as I do so, so that I can both end my embarrassment-induced misery and simply make Mulder suffer. "Scully? I'm sorry." He says gently. "Thank you for staying here tonight. Thank you for staying for the past seven years. Really. You mean so much to me. I couldn't do it without you." He finishes softly, as he rubs his face in my hair. "Oh, brother." I grumble. "Is that code for something?" He grins. He remembers. Yeah, Mulder. It is. It means 'I love you' in Scully-speak. ~The End~ All the world needs, another post-"all things" fic, right? I hope I did something a little different with this one, and I hope you liked it. Secondly, thank you so much for reading!! This is my first attempt at fanfic. *PLEASE* send feedback to skeeter@bcinet.net. It will be greatly appreciated and responded to. Thanks!!