Everybody Knows a Turkey... Author: ML Email: msnsc21@aol.com (feedback appreciated!) Distribution: My gift to you. Just let me know where, and please leave my name & email attached. Spoilers: None. S7 and S8 have vanished without a trace. Rating: PG-13 Classification: MSR, some humor I hope Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Summary: Our intrepid agents enjoy the holidays. Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Most of them belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, and FOX. I also don't own the Christmas songs mentioned in this story, but I use them as respectfully as I use CC's characters. I mean no infringement, and I am making no profit from this. "Everybody Knows a Turkey..." by ML "A little more to the left, Mulder. No, too far, just a lit-tle bit to the right....okay, hold it *right there* while I tighten the screws..." Scully lay on her stomach on the floor of her living room, her hands busy adjusting the Christmas tree stand while Mulder dutifully held the trunk as instructed. He'd brought this upon himself. One more hare-brained, last minute X-File too many for Scully. She'd missed her flight to San Diego, and now she was making him pay. "Are you done yet?" he asked plaintively. "My arm is getting tired." On the other hand, he enjoyed the view of Scully's behind wriggling around as she crawled around on the floor. Her sweater rode up just enough so he could get a glimpse of that tattoo on her lower back. He hadn't seen that much naked Scully flesh since...well, practically forever. And never under such pleasant circumstances, aching arm notwithstanding. "Stop whining, Mulder. You are my Christmas slave. You promised." She shimmied back out from under the tree, causing her sweater to ride up just a bit more before she sat back on her knees, pulling it back down. "You can let go now. Carefully!" He slowly loosened his grip from the trunk of the tree and held his breath as it stayed right where it was supposed to. They both breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. "Thanks, Mulder. It's a lot easier when I have help." She got up off her knees, steadying herself by gripping his arm. "You mean you usually do this by yourself?"he thought to himself. "Yep. But it takes a lot longer." She grabbed his hand and held it up to her nose, taking a big sniff. "Here." She held his hand up to his own nose. He took a tentative sniff. "Mmm," he said. "Pine scented." "You bet your life," she said. "That's why I do it." Had he spoken his incredulity aloud? No, she just knew him really, really well. His expression probably gave him away. "Want some hot cider?" Her voice drifted back from the kitchen. "It's ready." "Sure." He ambled into the kitchen after her, and was surprised at the amount of stuff on the counters and the table. "What's up with all this stuff?" "You and I are making Christmas cookies." Any visions of spending a quiet evening with Scully by her fire vanished with this news. "I've never made cookies." "Tree first, then cookies," she said briskly, handing him a mug of steaming cider. They went back into the living room and Scully started untangling strings of lights. "Have you ever strung lights on a Christmas tree, Mulder?" "Can't say I have." He held out no hope that this admission would spare him the chore. Scully handed him a string. "Start at the bottom and work your way up to the top. I'm going to start mixing up a batch of cookies." She left him there, holding loops of lights. "What if I mess it up?" he called after her. "Failure is not an option, Mulder," her voice came back to him. "Just do it right the *first* time." It was harder than it looked. He had vague memories of his father cursing over light strings when he was very young. He and Samantha were usually banned from the living room while this part of the operation took place. Now he knew why. It took him an hour, and a near-tragedy when he backed up too far and almost fell over the coffee table, taking the tree with him. He caught himself just in time. "Oh, Captain Scully," he called to her. "Wanna come inspect the work?" His back ached and he was hungry. He hoped his work passed her scrutiny. Scully stood in the kitchen door, squinting her eyes. "Turn off the lamp, Mulder." He dutifully did so, and came to stand beside her, trying to see through her eyes. He squinted the way she did, and was rewarded by starry-looking lights, arranged quite beautifully, he thought. Scully evidently thought so, too. "Nice job, Mulder. Are you sure you've never done this before?" "Oh, I'd remember doing something like this," he said. Scully patted him on the shoulder and then reached up to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Mulder." "Anytime, Scully," he said nonchalantly. he added to himself. Scully brought out a plate of warm cookies to nibble on while they finshed decorating the tree. All went well until the tinsel incident. "Mulder, you don't throw the tinsel on the tree. You place it, just a few strands at a time." "Why?" "Because it looks better. Here." She took the hunks of tangled tinsel he'd scattered on his side of the tree and replaced them with her strands. "Don't you think it looks better?" "Who knew you were such a Christmas perfectionist?" he muttered, and threw his hunk of tinsel at Scully. "Now that's what I call pretty," he smirked. The tinsel landed on her head and some of it drifted onto her sweater. She shook her head and more of it cascaded down. Scully stood up on her tiptoes and carefully draped some of it over Mulder's ears and tried to put some on his nose, but he grabbed her hands before she could reach it. They grappled for a minute, and would have toppled over the coffee table if Mulder hadn't thoughtfully moved it out of the way after his earlier stumble. Instead, Mulder overbalanced right onto the couch, taking Scully with him. He lay half on the cushions, one leg bracing against the floor. Scully landed right on top of him, knocking the breath out of both of them. The tinsel on top of her head slid off onto Mulder's face. "Gotcha," she said gleefully. "No," he said softly, "I got *you*." He leaned forward and touched her lips with his own. Scully went very still at the touch of his lips, all attempts to escape at an end. She closed her eyes and returned the soft pressure. He released her hands from his grip and cradled her head, tentatively deepening the kiss. Her response at once surprised and gratified him. She braced her hands against his shoulders and angled her mouth over his, giving him the access he hoped for. They stayed where they were until they were breathless with kissing. Mulder sat up and tucked Scully against his side. She sat up suddenly. "The cookies!" He became aware of a burning smell coming from the kitchen. He found Scully there, surveying some very brown Christmas trees with dismay. "Sorry, Scully," he said contritely. he thought. Scully smiled up at him. "I'm not. It's a tray of cookies, that's all." She reached up and kissed his nose, rubbing hers against it for good measure. "Maybe that's enough cookies for now," she whispered against his lips. He wasn't about to disagree with her. "Let me help you clean this up, and we'll go get something to eat. Or we could order in," he added, a gleam in his eyes. "I thought it might be fun to go out, look at Christmas lights," she said. "Another Scully tradition?" he teased. "Well, yes. We'd go to Mass, and then drive around and look at lights, and sing Christmas carols." He blanched a little. "Are we going to Mass?" "No, Mulder, I won't make you go to Mass." She smiled a little sadly. "I'll go if you want to," he said sincerely. "I don't want you to miss out." She smiled a little more happily. "We'll see," she said. Once they were bundled up and outside, Mulder steered them toward his car. "Let's walk," Scully suggested. "There's a little street not far from here that has an all-night diner. We can look at the lights as we walk." She reached for his hand and he gave it gladly. What he most enjoyed about the walk was watching Scully's face. She took such pleasure in seeing the decorated houses. He would have thought that all she'd seen and experienced would have taken every bit of tenderness and sentiment out of her. Tonight he was seeing a side of Scully he wasn't often privileged to see, and he hoped he wouldn't screw it up somehow. She deserved a Christmas unmarred by bad memories or sadness. Just watching her reawakened feelings about the season he'd buried long ago. They swung their hands back and forth as they walked. Scully was humming under her breath and Mulder asked, "Are you gonna sing carols, Scully?" "No, I don't think so," she said. "Oh, Mulder, look! It's Cindy Lou Who's house!" They were passing by a row of houses all decorated in cartoon themes. Mulder recognized a cutout of the Grinch (who wouldn't?), patting a cutout of a little girl. "Oh," he said. "Cute." "You're such a *guy*, Mulder," was all she said. He was surprised to see the number of people on the street, all looking at the lighted houses. There were a lot of cars driving slowly up and down the street, too. "I guess looking at lights isn't just a Scully tradition," he observed. Scully smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'm not as weird about Christmas as you thought, huh?" "I never said you were weird, Scully," he said defensively. "I just don't have anything to compare to." They got to the end of the street. "Come on," she said, tugging on his hand. "I'm hungry." They walked a couple of blocks over to the small shopping district and found the diner, not very busy at this time on Christmas Eve. But the place was strung with lights, and the waitresses had Santa hats on. Even the cook was wearing one. The hostess greeted Scully warmly. "Haven't seen you in here for a while, Dana," she said. "Who's your friend?" "This is Mulder," Scully said. "Mulder, this is Kimpa." "Merry Christmas, Mulder," Kimpa said, without batting an eye at his name. "Yes, it is. Merry Christmas, Kimpa," Mulder replied, and let Scully pull him along to a booth near the back. They had hamburgers and milkshakes. Scully actually ordered French fries with hers. Mulder thought. He snatched one from her plate. "Hey," she said. "Eat your own." "Fair is fair, Scully," he said, shaking a fry at her. "You always steal mine." "Jingle Bells" came on the music system. Scully cocked her head and listened for a moment, smiling. She asked, "Have you ever seen the movie `A Christmas Story'? It's the one where the little boy wants a BB gun and they keep telling him he'll shoot his eye out?" Mulder smiled. "Yeah, I know that one." He didn't tell her he watched it every year. He could hardly avoid it; some cable station played it for twenty-four hours straight. He was bound to see some of it even if he was only channel-surfing. "Remember the scene where they all go to the Chinese restaurant and the waiters are trying to sing `Deck the Halls' and `Jingle Bells'?" "Mmm-hmm," Mulder replied, his mouth full of burger. He swallowed. "You want the waitresses here to sing to you? Because I could--" "No, Mulder," Scully said before he could finish. "The song just reminded me of something funny and I wanted to share it." "Oh. Okay. It *is* a funny movie," Mulder said, hatching a plot in his head. "What song is a particular favorite of yours?" "Are *you* going to sing for me, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Just making conversation, Scully. You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." "Do you even have a favorite Christmas song, Mulder?" "Stop stalling, Scully, what's yours?" She rolled her eyes the barest bit. "The one called `The Christmas Song.'" "Oh, you mean Mel Torme, or Nat King Cole's version?" "I like `em all, Mulder, I just like the song." She smiled at a memory. "When I was a kid, my favorite line was, `everybody knows a turkey.' I used to sing it at Bill." Mulder put his hand over hers. "Bet Bill loved that. Personally, I like the next line better." Scully looked at him very seriously, and turned her hand over to hold his. "You don't need mistletoe, Mulder." Surprised, he took a minute to gather his wits, and then he said in reply, "That's good to know, Scully." He gave her hand a small squeeze before letting go. As they finished eating, Scully pointed out the snow falling outside. "Looks like a white Christmas, Mulder." Mulder nodded. "Do you want coffee? Or some dessert?" He stood up. "Could you order me some coffee, and maybe a slice of pie?" "What kind, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Oh, Scully, you know what I like," he grinned, and walked off in the direction of the men's room. When he came back, a mug of coffee and a piece of sweet potato pie, loaded with whipped cream, awaited him. "You *do* know what I like," he murmured, and dug in. Scully sipped her tea and poked at her red and green Jell-O. She very carefully scraped all the whipped cream off and ate it first, licking the spoon. Mulder watched in fascination. He cleared his throat and asked, "Want some more whipped cream, Scully?" "No, thanks," she said innocently. "I think that was enough." They finished up their desserts and Mulder paid the check, leaving a hefty tip. Once outside, he said, "Still feel like walking?" "It's not snowing that hard, Mulder. Come on." "I don't know where we'd find a cab now, anyway. Everything but the diner is closed." As he spoke, he heard bells coming up the street behind him. He turned to see a horse-drawn surrey, filled with carollers. They waved and Scully waved back. The carriage stopped next to them. "Want a ride? We're just going up the street with all the lighted houses. There's plenty of room!" Scully and Mulder looked at each other. Without another word, Mulder stepped up and handed Scully into the carriage. It was sort of exhilarating, he found, to be with all these people having such a good time. He didn't attempt to sing along, but Scully did, with gusto. She actually had a very nice voice, when she wasn't being self-conscious about it. They disembarked, with thanks and calls of "Merry Christmas!" at the end of the street. Scully turned and hugged Mulder impulsively. "Wasn't that fun?" Her excitement was contagious. "Yes, it was," he said, and found that as he said it, it was true. He hugged Scully back, and tipped her chin up to kiss her. They stood there for a long time. To Mulder, it was like living in some dream: the misty snow light, his arms wrapped around the woman he loved, her arms wrapped around him, sharing kisses. When they broke apart, Scully giggled and rubbed her nose against his again. "What is that?" he asked. "That nose thing. You did it before." "It's an Eskimo kiss. Haven't you ever done that?" "Is this another Scully thing?" he asked suspiciously. "No, it's a kid thing. Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses..." "What's a butterfly kiss?" he asked, intrigued. Scully pulled his head down closer. She said, "Close your eyes," and when he did, he could feel a soft fluttering against his eyelids. "That's a butterfly kiss." "I'd rather have another Scully kiss," he said with a pout. Before he could even draw breath, he felt Scully's lips enclose his. He heard bells. Scully pulled away a little. "It must be getting close to time for Mass." "Do you want to go?" Mulder asked. He knew that Scully sometimes went to her neighborhood church for services. He'd waited for her there on occasion. "I don't want to leave you alone," Scully said. "Can I come with you?" Mulder asked. "Do you really want to?" Scully was surprised, and he didn't blame her. "Yes, I do, if it's okay," Mulder replied. "Well, then, yes. I'd love you to come." She took his hand and together they walked to the church, the snow falling lightly around them. When they got there, Mulder said, "You go on in. I have to do something first." Scully looked at him. "Are you sure you want to come in?" "Yes, really. I just forgot to make a call. I'll be right there, save a seat for me?" Scully nodded and went in. A very few minutes later he slipped in beside her. It had been years since he'd attended any kind of formal service, but by following Scully's lead, he stood when he was supposed to, sat and knelt when required. He sang the carols and was attentive during the responsorials. He felt a sense of peace he hadn't expected to feel, but he suspected it had more to do with the woman beside him than the services. Still, he felt a sense of rightness, being there. When they came out of the church an hour later, it was snowing much harder. "There may be enough snow to make snow angels tomorrow," Scully said as they looked up at the fat white flakes falling. "I don't need to make a snow angel," Mulder said. "I've got one right here." Indeed, Scully had snow clinging to her hair and shoulders and she had that Christmas glow about her. She smiled softly. "You say the nicest things," she told him. As they approached her apartment building, Scully didn't notice the battered VW van parked outside, but Mulder did. Three disheveled, snow-covered figures stood near the steps. One of them began to sing in a whiskey baritone, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose, Yuletide carols being sung by a choir, And folks dressed up like Eskimos..." Two other voices joined in, a little less confidently. "Everybody knows a turkey And some mistletoe Helps to make the season bright. Tiny tots with their eyes all a-glow Will find it hard to sleep tonight. They know that Santa's on his way. He's bringing lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh, And every mother's child is sure to spy, To see if reindeer really know how to fly, And so I'm offering this simple phrase, To kids from one to ninety-two, Although it's been said, many times, many ways, Merry Christmas to you." Scully applauded. "Did Mulder put you up to this?" she asked. "We'll never tell," Frohike said, drawing a finger across his throat. "You guys must be freezing. Come up for a hot drink," Scully invited, and Mulder saw yet another plan dashed to pieces. Byers, Langly, and Frohike stood awkwardly around Scully's living room for a while, nibbling cookies and sipping hot mulled wine. It was a strange sight, but no stranger than plenty of others he'd seen. Even less familiar was the sight of Scully enjoying herself, wholeheartedly. It was definitely a sight he'd like to get used to. Eventually the Gunmen took themselves off. Frohike paused at the door. "Can we drop you anywhere, Mulder?" "No, I've got my car here," he replied. He supposed, with regret, he ought to think about leaving soon himself. "Don't stay out too late," Frohike warned. "The snow could get bad. You could be stranded." He leered suggestively in Scully's direction. "In your dreams, little man," Mulder said. "Goodbye, guys." He shut the door firmly on them. Scully came back out of the kitchen. Mulder said, a little shyly, "Maybe I should go now, too." "Oh, I don't think so, Mulder. I think the snow is getting too deep for you to drive," she said very seriously. "Are you offering me a bed?" he asked with a slight leer. What would he say if she said yes? Scully made a show of considering his question. "Well, maybe a couch. I could even offer you some sleepwear." She disappeared down the hall. "Should I be afraid that you're offering me something to sleep in?" Mulder called after her. "It's not from Frederick's or Victoria's Secret, if that's what you're implying," came Scully's voice from down the hall. She returned, carrying a pair of red flannel pajama pants. She tossed them to him. "How did you happen to have these on hand?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. "They were going to be a Christmas gift, but I've sacrificed them to the greater good," Scully replied. "So where's the top part?" he asked. "They're being put to good use," she said cryptically. "You'd rather sleep in a tee shirt anyway, wouldn't you?" He nodded. "Go ahead, you can have the bathroom first." When he came out, she'd made up the couch with blankets and pillows. All the lights were out except for the tree, the fire, and a couple of candles. Scully was nowhere to be seen. He sat on the couch and waited to see if she would reappear to say goodnight. He was not disappointed. She came out in a voluminous red flannel pajama top, sleeves rolled up. The hem of the shirt came down nearly to her knees. He knew right away it was the mate to his pajama bottoms. "You never said what your favorite Christmas song was," she said as she curled up on one end of the couch. Her eyes had that sleepy look about them that he loved so much. "'I'll Be Home for Christmas,'" he told her. "I especially like the line, `Christmas Eve will find me/Where the love light gleams...'" He'd always thought of it as kind of a melancholy song, but not now. Not tonight. "'I'll be home for Christmas,'" Scully finished softly, "'If only in my dreams.'" "This is my Christmas dream, Scully," he said, pulling her close to him. "You are my Christmas dream come true." end. feedback is my Christmas dream! msnsc21@aol.com elements of Kimpa's challenge: 1-a ride in a horse-drawn carriage 2-snow angels 3-a reference to Cindy Lou Who 4-A trip over furniture (like Dick van Dyke) 5-Eskimo kisses 6-Red flannel pjs or long johns 7-the Lone Gunmen singing a Christmas carol Bonus: use Kimpa's name in the story. I saw one written on Ephemeral and thought I'd try my hand. Hope you liked it!