Work Text:
Scully walked down the hospital hallways, all too familiar with the layout. She’d insisted Mulder get checked earlier on and he’d refused, but when he picked up the phone slurring his words, she’d called an ambulance and driven straight down to the hospital.
Apparently it wasn’t that serious, but he was in a somewhat altered state, affected by hallucinogenic stimulants that had found their way into his system through ingestion earlier on in the day.
Hopefully this would be the last time he licked crime scene evidence.
“We’re relieved you’ve arrived, Doctor Scully, he asked for you multiple times, and you’re more familiar with his medical history,” the nurse that led her, Nurse Beck, said.
Before Scully could reply, they arrived at a room and as Nurse Beck opened the door, they heard Mulder’s voice, speaking to someone else already there.
“— will know what to do! She’s a doctor!”
“Mr. Mulder, a doctor has given us these instructions; your doctor does not have to approve them.” The male voice was a blend of impatient and tired of yet one more argumentative patient on a Saturday night.
“I won’t do anything until she’s here!”
“It’s alright, Mulder, I’m here,” Scully called to him, walking past the nurse and straight to his bed in concern.
“Scully!” he called out, eyes wide, sitting half-up in bed and extending his arms to her in an unusually large display of affection. Mulder had three electrodes on his chest connected to a machine monitoring his heart, normal for this kind of situation, but he seemed very desperate to get out of there.
“Mr. Mulder, I am sorry, we could not find anything about your wife in your file, but maybe your doctor can help us contact her?” suggested Nurse Beck.
“She’s here!” Mulder exclaimed, looking at the nurse in confusion and grabbing Scully’s hand with his own. Scully looked down at him in surprise and unsure of what to say.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were his doctor,” the nurse said apologetically.
“I am,” Scully assured her.
“I tried to tell you, my wife is a doctor!” Mulder said, looking at the two nurses as if they were insane. He held one of Scully's hands in both of his, turning his gaze on her. “She’s the only one I trust.”
“I — I,” Scully wasn’t sure what to say to that, and luckily, the impatient nurse who’d been arguing with Mulder interrupted them.
“Be that as it may, we need to give Mr. Mulder his medicine. We’re simply following standard protocol for detox. It’s better than getting your stomach pumped.” The nurse, Nurse Clarke, it said on his badge, looked at Mulder with disdain. Scully felt like punching him and sent him a threatening look. Mulder might be a little difficult, but that was not acceptable bedside manner.
“Give us a minute, please,” she replied icily, and the nurse reluctantly turned around and pretended to busy himself with something else.
“Scully, I’m scared.” Mulder’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and he looked like a terrified puppy and Scully couldn’t help herself, all her frustration seeping out as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, Mulder. Why are you scared?”
“They’re making me drink something. I don’t trust them.”
She glanced over to the cart and saw the two plastic cups filled with black liquid, and immediately understood his concern.
“It’s just charcoal, Mulder.” She said it with a sympathetic smile, trying not to chuckle at his innocence and confusion. “It’ll help your body get rid of any toxins. It’s safe.”
Mulder looked unconvinced, and she took one of the cups and brought it up to her lips.
“Scully, no!”
She took a tiny sip of it, trying to hide her disgust. “See? Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Mulder eyed the unappetising black liquid sceptically but took it from her hand. Looking at it down his nose and grimacing, he took a large gulp.
“Argh!” He let out a sound of disgust, wrinkled his nose and curled his lips but obediently stopped making a show of it when faced with Scully’s stern look.
“Ok but I’m only doing it for you,” he grumbled underneath his breath.
“You said something about medicine?” Scully, getting up from the bed, directed her question at Nurse Clarke.
“He is not in any danger, but he needs to get some sleep, he was in a euphoric state when he arrived and paranoia was setting in.”
“I see.” Scully wouldn’t even be able to begin explaining to these nurses that the source of paranoia was not solely the drugs. She glanced at Mulder, a charcoal moustache on his upper lip, looking utterly repulsed. He deserved much worse for doing this to himself, but she couldn’t be angry when he was that upset and confused.
“Could you please bring us some juice to wash that down with?”
The grumpy nurse followed his colleague out of the room and finally gave them a few minutes of privacy, and Mulder calmed down a little.
Luckily, it was the nice nurse, Nurse Beck, who returned with a glass of orange juice. Nurse Clarke seemed to have found more amenable patients to attend to.
“Here you are,” Nurse Beck said, giving Mulder the glass, “I hope you feel better now.”
“Scully is here,” Mulder replied simply, as if it explained everything perfectly.
“It must be lucky to have a wife who’s a doctor when you work in law enforcement,” the nurse said sympathetically.
“I’m not —” Scully started saying, but was interrupted by Mulder tugging on her hand and looking up at her, eyes dreamy.
“The best,” he said with a dopey smile on his face.
Scully sat down on the chair by the bed, looking slightly uncomfortable but not sure there was any real reason to correct her, after all, Mulder would be released tomorrow and the night would be — hopefully — uneventful.
“I’ll go get your sleeping medicine now, Mr. Mulder.”
He was a little calmer than when Scully had arrived, but had a sceptical look in his eyes once more.
“It’s okay,” Scully said, placing a hand on his arm, “I’ll be here with you, Mulder.”
He looked up at the nurse with his puppy-dog eyes.
“Can Scully stay ’till tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not, visiting hours are over at 10pm and since you’re not in critical condition, not even relatives or partners are allowed.”
“But she’s my wife!” he complained, loud and clear.
The older woman chuckled, looking at the two of them as if she had never seen anything sweeter. “I’m sure she’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll be here as soon as visiting hours open, okay?” Scully said gently, putting her hand over his. Mulder didn’t reply, but gave her a look of resignation and a small nod.
The nurse left the room and Scully let out a long sigh, covering her forehead with one hand, elbow resting on the bed and the other hand still holding Mulder’s.
“Mulder, you can’t go around telling people I’m your wife.”
“Why not?” he asked, disconcerted.
“It’s not going to give us any additional benefits here, it’s enough that I’m your doctor.”
He looked at Scully in earnest confusion.
“But it’s true.”
Scully blanched. She had dearly hoped and tried to convince herself it was the nurses getting confused and Mulder trying to come up with excuses, but clearly, his altered state had a lot more to do with it.
Fortunately, she was saved from having to formulate an answer by Nurse Beck coming back in with the sleeping medicine. She brought a syringe to Mulder’s arm and he winced and pouted, and Scully rolled her eyes at the fuss he was making.
“Thank you,” Scully said, “I’ll be out by 10pm.”
“Call us if you need anything,” the nurse replied good-naturedly and left the room.
“Come on, Mulder, you should try and sleep now, lie down.” She pulled a blanket over him and Mulder lay back on his pillow, picking at and fiddling with the electrodes, a frown on his face.
“Mulder, please, can you settle down?” Scully asked impatiently, getting tired of his behaviour.
“These are annoying.”
Scully sighed in frustration, and she pressed her hands over his to make him stop. It had the desired effect, and Mulder looked up at her and smiled.
“Can you stay?”
“Mulder, the nurse has just told you, I have to leave once visiting hours are over.”
“That’s not fair. They should let people’s wives stay over.” He frowned as he said it, but soon enough he’d shuffled to the side of the bed and had a wide, expectant grin plastered on his face as he looked between Scully and the mattress.
“Mulder...”
He pouted at her and she couldn’t find it in her heart to say no, so Scully lay next to him, but occupied the least space possible. Mulder took her hand, unable to cuddle her due to the electrodes on his chest.
“Mulder, we’re not married,” Scully said patiently.
“We are,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“We’re not,” Scully gently insisted. She didn’t need him telling more hospital staff that, or worse, them telling him it when he sobered up. She knew he was probably going to remember the evening, as the drugs were not affecting him that extremely, and he might be embarrassed when he recalled it.
“We’re not?” He looked alarmed.
“No.” Scully almost felt sorry for him and wondered if it had been a bad idea telling him that. Maybe it really was a topic for another time.
Mulder’s face fell. “Why not?”
That got her at a loss for words. Scully bit her lip, trying to figure out a reply. She turned on her side and looked at him, slightly flustered.
“Well, because... because we’ve only been together for two months and it’s a bit early for that don’t you think?”
Mulder seemed to try and digest her words, and she thought she might have succeeded, but his next words proved her wrong.
“No, that’s not right.”
“What?” Scully asked, confused herself now.
“Two months isn't right. I disstingly... dustincly remember saying I loved you way before that. When I fell off that boat, remember?” He was slurring his words, the sleeping medication starting to take effect.
“And before that, that journal you wrote… you wrote for me. When you were at the hospital…” Suddenly his head jerked up and he grabbed one of her shoulders tightly. “Scully, why are we at the hospital? Scully, you’re not sick, are you?”
“Mulder, relax, I’m fine. You got some drugs into your system and started feeling sick, remember?” Her chest tightened at how quick he was to react at the thought of her cancer, even in his current state.
“Oh. Good.” He exhaled and closed his eyes, and it seemed he’d finally forgotten about the topic. “I’m tired, Scully.”
“I know, Mulder. You should get some rest.” She stroked his arm gently as she said it, and he nuzzled into her neck.
“Thank you, Scully,” he mumbled. “Love you.”
“Anytime,” she whispered, glad he couldn’t see her blush this time; she would never get tired of hearing it. Scully moved her hand up to his hair and ran her fingers through it soothingly.
Soon enough, Mulder had fallen asleep and she peeled herself away from him carefully, making sure not to cause any sudden movements that might jolt him awake. Feeling the loss of her next to him, Mulder frowned and reached out for her hand, so Scully let him hold it. She bent down and kissed his forehead and whispered almost soundlessly: “sleep tight, Mulder.”
Scully waited a few more seconds until his grip on her hand relaxed, but getting up and turning her back to him to leave the room, she heard his sleepy, groggy voice once more.
“One day, Scully?”
She looked back at Mulder, but he seemed sound asleep. She bit her lip and tried to hold back a smile.
“One day, Mulder.”
Scully wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but for a moment it looked like Mulder was smiling in his sleep.