I found this in my WIP file, and it’s dated from two years ago. I don’t know what I intended it for or if there was a prompt, but whatevs. @today-in-fic thank you (:
Mulder watches Scully collapse onto his battered sofa. She shifts into the spot that she’s moulded over the past decades and sighs deeply.
He pulls the fridge door open and looks at her.
“Scully?”
She rolls her head to look at him. “Mm,” she groans. “Could I have a cup of tea or decaf? I can’t handle alcohol the way-“
“You used to,” he finishes. “Yeah, I know. Me neither. You’re probably saving me a headache in the morning, Scully.”
She laughs. “You’re welcome.”
He rummages around, brewing the decaf- complete and utter shit, he used to think, but now he appreciates a late-night coffee that won’t keep him up.
Scully’s cup has unsweetened vanilla almond milk added in, her latest health kick. She turned fifty and decided creamer was going on her ever-growing list of things that aren’t doing me any favors.
He takes the cups out to the living room, places them on the equally old and scuffed coffee table.
“Mulder?”
“Yeah.”
“When did we get old?”
He takes a sip of coffee. “Well, I don’t know that I’d call us old."
She laughs. "Mulder, I'm fifty-three, and you're-"
"Older than shit," he finishes.
She smiles. "At least Skinner's still working. We aren't the FBI's resident dinosaurs yet. That's all his honor."
Mulder turns his head to look at her. She doesn't know. "Scully?"
"Yeah?" Her eyebrow quirks up in confusion.
"Skinner's only two years older than me."
"So he's-" she counts in her head. "Fifty-nine?"
"Sixty next month. His birthday is November 12th."
She takes a long drink. "Damn, I wouldn’t have guessed that. We can't let him retire until we do, then. I'm not sure that I want to be the oldest field agent in DC."
Mulder can't contain a grin. "Scully?"
She shifts to face him. "What?" She sees his expression and her eyes narrow. "No."
Mulder gets up and walks over to his desk. He's been gathering supplies for a joint birthday party. There are some party hats, noisemakers, and a "happy birthday, wife" card for the Skinman. He hasn't picked a card out for Scully, yet. He has a sparkly paper crown for her, though, and he takes it out.
"You," he walks back to her. "Are the oldest female field agent currently serving the great federal bureau." He settles the crown on her head, snugging it down over her orange layers.
"No..."
"Some lady in Arizona retired last month, making you the oldest. There are older agents than you, but none of them do field work anymore. They're all bureaucrats with desk jobs."
"Oh, my God." She cradles her face in her hands. "Mulderrr.”