Work Text:
December 2001
“Well, shit.”
Scully, instantly regaining her composure and control over her tongue, looked over to the baby, William, who sat contentedly in his swing. He was, at seven-months-old, none the wiser at his mother’s occasional foul language, but she knew she needed to fix that fast, before he started repeating her.
Anxiety eased, she turned back to the television to take a further look at the blue and purple mass that would overtake the greater D.C. area on Friday evening.
Friday evening. At the same time they were supposed to board their flight to San Diego. The Scully family, separated and on opposite coasts, had tentatively agreed to take turns at hosting Christmas, and last year Bill, Tara, Matthew, and the newest baby to the Scully clan, Elijah, had traveled to Annapolis and stayed with Maggie Scully. Now, it was Mulder and Scully’s turn for the cross-country flight.
“Well, that’s not good, is it William?”
William, finally recognizing his name at seven months old, turned his head, chewing his fist carefully.
Scully thought of herself a year ago, not even halfway through her pregnancy with him, and how much she looked forward to this age. She loved it, how aware he was becoming, how delighted little new things made him. He was very happy, very content, if not very loud. She was biased, but he really was rather perfect.
“No, not at all,” Scully replied to her own question. She sighed and looked back at the screen, at the moving blue and purple mass predicting the upcoming snowstorm.
From the bathroom, Scully heard the clattering of a shampoo bottle and the shower stream ending abruptly.
After a few moments, Mulder, his hair damp from his evening shower and donned in his regular pajamas, stepped into the living room, tossing his towel into the laundry basket.
He scooped up William from his seat and lifted him up to blow a raspberry on his belly. Their son gave a full-body laugh in the way that only babies could.
“Bad news, Mulder.”
“Hmm?” he replied, sitting down next to Scully with William tucked closely against him.
“Snowstorm on Friday.”
Mulder looked up towards the screen, letting his guard down enough for William to grab his glasses. “Damn.” He carefully pried the baby’s fingers from the frames and put them back on his face before pondering the television screen again. “I should call, see if we can catch a flight earlier in the day.”
Scully stood up before him. “You’ve got him, I’ll call.”
William yawned against his father’s shoulder, and Mulder gently patted his back. “Good luck.”
Twenty frustrating minutes later, Scully had confirmation that at this point, swapping for an earlier flight was not in the cards.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Unless you want to fly out tonight, most everyone has already called and changed. But let’s see here, I have your flight number. I’ll get you a weather waiver.”
Scully sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was a time when she was a little more on top of weather, flights, and the like. But she’d been a little busy lately.
“That would be great, thank you. We’ll probably have to fly out after Christmas.”
“Of course. Your waivers will be at the help desk. Merry Christmas!”
“No luck,” Scully reported back. “Everyone’s ahead of us.”
“Well,” Mulder said, giving William a little toss in the air before catching him, “I guess we’ll be spending it here.”
By Saturday morning, Scully, warm under her blanket, watched the pair in front of her on the rug. William got up on his hands and knees, as if ready to crawl. He wanted to be on the move, but couldn’t figure out the mechanics just yet. His eyes watched as his father stacked a few alphabet blocks for him.
“We’re going to need to baby-proof everything sooner rather than later,” Mulder acknowledged as William reached out a shaky hand and knocked over the tower.
“Looks like we have exciting New Year's plans.”
William made a happy shriek not unlike a dinosaur. When the flurries settled down the next day, and William had his nap, they’d bundle him up warmly and take him outside.
His world was expanding more and more by the day. What was it like to have so much to learn in the world?
In front of her, William rolled onto his back. He had recently discovered the joys of putting everything in his mouth, including his toys and Scully’s hair and his feet, scrunching himself up like some kind of roly poly.
She looked over to the tree. Mulder and her mother had surprised her with some salt dough ornaments with his tiny handprint permanently imprinted.
“Oh my,” she had said, “thank you, Mom.”
“I helped, but Mulder had the idea at first. He called, said he’d seen something on Bill and Tara’s tree that he wanted to recreate for William. Though you’d like it.” After all these years, Mulder still managed to surprise her.
The days in the apartment blurred together. They scrounged up food from the fridge and pantry, took naps, found time to deep clean parts of the apartment that hadn’t seen due attention since before William was born.
Sure enough, they bundled William up in his snowsuit and took him outside.
“When my father was transferred to San Diego, I was so disappointed to find out it didn’t snow. Sure, it didn’t always snow when we lived in Maryland, but it didn’t feel like Christmas to me. At least, until we got to open presents.”
“That made it all better,” Mulder replied, adjusting William in his arms.
“Of course.” Scully ran her fingers across the back of the baby’s cheek. They couldn’t spend too long out here – they’d get windburnt.
“Martha’s Vineyard got snow - not as much as the rest of Massachusetts, but enough to make us all happy. Sam and I got sleds one year, Mom had to bribe us with cinnamon rolls to come back inside.” Mulder paused on their walk and looked down at William. “It’s not that I want him to grow up too fast, but God, I can’t wait for when it snows and he can play.”
Scully smiled, feeling the same sentiment. “It’ll be fun.”
“He’s down for the count,” Mulder stated. “A successful first Christmas morning.”
Scully put the last of their breakfast plates in the drying rack and turned around to face him, leaning against the counter.
“Don’t you know that there are no chores on Christmas, Scully?”
“Hmm, maybe for children. I seem to recall that there’s still plenty to do.”
“Well, surely a break can be had.” He leaned up close to her and placed his hands on her waist.
“I suppose that’s an option.” She felt something warm grow deep in her belly as Mulder tugged her close and kissed her.
In the warmth of her bed, clothes were quickly discarded, his lips were on her, his fingers gently caressing the stretch marks on her thighs and belly that were slowly turning silvery.
The ringing from Mulder’s phone woke him up. Groaning, he flipped it open and answered. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he felt the warmth of Scully sleeping next to him.
“Hello?”
Frohike’s voice came from the speaker. “Mulder. I heard something from the radio waves. There’ll be a flight to San Diego this evening, runways are cleared and open for business.”
“Huh? Oh. Thank you, Frohike. I haven’t kept an eye on it.”
“I figured as much. Tell Scully and the little one ‘Merry Christmas’ from us. We’ll have presents for when you get back.” Click.
Scully, still fast asleep, didn’t stir throughout the entire phone call. Her red hair was fanned across the pillow.
“Scully.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ears gently, even though he knew this would require the big guns. A careful shove and another “Scully” later, her eyes blinked awake. She squinted.
“Mm, is he crying?”
“No, Will’s still asleep. Frohike called. There’s a flight to San Diego this evening that we might be able to make.”
Scully yawned and sat up, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. “Are we doing it? We could stay through New Years, make the most of it.”
Still up to seeing the one and only Bill Jr.? Mulder thought, but only for a moment. They had found some semblance of peace, and it would be good to be with Maggie on Christmas; he knew how much it meant to her. And there were cousins who were yet to meet.
“Yeah, if you’re prepared to take a baby on a cross-country flight.”
Scully sighed. “Who ever is?” She yawned again and rummaged around for her robe in the tangled sheets and blankets. “William’s bag is still packed. I never touched it.” She looked up to meet his gaze - neither of them had packed before their flights had been canceled.
Scully gave a quiet laugh and leaned forward to kiss him. “Merry Christmas to us.”