Title: Home For A Rest
Rating: PG
Classification: light MSR, UST
Spoilers: tiny reference to FTF.
Summary: Mulder helps Scully through a bad case of the flu.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine, make no profit, have no money- do not sue!

This was a challenge-fic for a friend who was sick at the time… hope you likey.

Home For A Rest
By xenoprobe

The sound of her sneeze resounded throughout their basement office. Scully barely even stopped her typing to catch it in a handkerchief. She blew her nose discreetly and resumed her work.

"Scully go home." Mulder sat on the edge of his desk. He watched his partner from across the room with concern.

"I'm fine Mulder." She did her best, but her voice failed her. It came out sounding somewhere between sandpaper and phone sex operator. She smiled crookedly and coughed a little, against her will.

"You're sick Scully."

She simply shrugged.

"And?"

"And you should go home, get some rest, sleep it off. Seriously, I can manage the report."

"Uh-huh..." She remained unconvinced.

Mulder rose from his spot and came closer. He took up the space behind his seated partner and slowly began rubbing her shoulders. She tensed for a moment then, as his fingers worked magic at her knotted muscles, she slumped in her chair. A tiny groan slipped from her lips and Mulder smiled to himself.

"You're stiff." His hands and fingers played over her shoulders and skimmed across the exposed skin at her neckline. She was on fire. Mulder stopped his massage and turned her chair to face him. Placing the back of his hand to her forehead, he took assessment of her temperature. "You have a fever Scully." He begged her with his eyes, "please go home, let me finish the work."

She gave up the fight and conceded defeat. But she stood up too quickly and fell immediately back into her chair, landing awkwardly from dizziness. Mulder bent over her, half-smiling at her disheveled appearance, half worrying about her state.

"I'm taking you home." His declaration surprisingly met with no protest as Scully eased herself from the chair again. She snagged her briefcase and keys from the table and Mulder helped her on with her coat. As soon as it cloaked her shoulders she began to shiver. Mulder's arm wrapped her protectively as they left the building for the parking lot.

The sniffling had started in the car; the coughing soon eclipsed the runny nose. Scully's head felt like a fish tank full of bubbles and rocks. She sat on her couch rubbing her temples and sneezing occasionally as Mulder fixed some tea in the kitchen. As he passed her a steamy mug, she pressed her palms to the hot porcelain, warming herself.

"You should get changed." She was still wearing her black pantsuit and although she maintained an attractive allure, the sniffling and reddened nose did detract from her usual appeal. Mulder smiled and tried to coax her from the couch.

"I don't wanna." She mumbled as she kicked off her shoes. This certainly wasn't the polished Dr. Scully of the FBI he was familiar with.

"C'mon Scully, you'll feel better as soon as you get your jammies on, I promise."

"Don't wanna." She repeated. Her petulance was almost sexy.

"If you don't get up and change I'll be forced to do it for you." Her chuckle came out in a cough/sneeze/sniffle combo; she rose and trudged off down the hall to her room. Mulder took another sip of tea and grinned at her behaviour, this was a Scully he'd enjoy, sick-but-adorably-cute-Scully, he mused.

He fetched the file he'd brought along and set up a spot at her desk. He took to the task of writing up the report Scully had started on earlier. The laptop booted up and he slipped in the diskette and soon found himself actually laughing out loud. It would appear that sick-but-adorably-cute-Scully was not quite present as she wrote this morning, there were words missing, things misspelled and a few lines worth the letter 'b' where she'd let her finger rest on the keyboard.

Mulder glanced at his watch and realized that he hadn't heard a peep from his partner in nearly fifteen minutes.

At the threshold of her bedroom, Mulder clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle a chuckle. Scully was asleep on top of her sheets. Her flannel top was on but her slacks were still wrapped at her ankles and her nylons were down to her knees. He approached the bed and stealthily slipped her remaining clothes off. He held her feet together and turned her body around on the bed, straightening her out.

He pulled the sheets down from underneath her limp body and did his best not to disturb as he slipped her between the sheets and tucked the covers up around her face. The sight of her snug in her blankets was heartwarming and Mulder sat down on the bed to watch her for a while.

He brought her cold water and placed it on a coaster on the bedside table. He returned to the report and put together a coherent review of their most recent case. Mulder even made some noodle soup for when his partner ventured to wake up, he left it slowly simmering on the stove top for a while, keeping it warm.

The sky was dark when Mulder returned to her bedroom. She had kicked off her covers and was shivering in her sleep. He felt her forehead again only to sense her fever was worse. A frown creased his face as he tried to gently rouse her. She didn't budge. Mulder shook her shoulders with more intent, then called to her- his voice rising as each attempt failed to wake her.

He gathered her in his arms and forcibly shook her until her eyes fluttered a little. She opened them, and saw her partner through blurry vision.

"Mulder?" She mumbled. "What is it?" She seemed unaware that she was sick, that he was holding her, that she was burning up all over.

"Scully- your fever... it's getting worse." Her head fell back a moment then she snapped awake and disoriented. He looked at her, trying to train her eyes to his. "Your fever Scully- it's really high."

"Thermometer's in the medicine cabinet Mulder..." She faded again and Mulder laid her back to the bed to go find the thermometer.

"Shit." He muttered. "Shit." Her temperature was 104 degrees. "Not good, not good..." he paced at her bedside debating scooping her up and carting her off to the hospital. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tiny hand reach out to him.

"Whassrrong?" He dropped to his knees at her side.

"Your fever's too high Scully what do I do?" Her eyes closed briefly. "Scully! C'mon sweetheart don't sleep now- tell me what to do."

"Cold shower..." It seemed as if that last instruction had sucked the last of her energy dry. Mulder picked her up and made his way to the bathroom. He wrestled her flannel pajama top off and stepped into the upright shower stall. He was still clothed, she was limp in his arms. He ran the cold water, with just a hint of warmth then flipped the knob to start the shower.

The jolt was harsh, it was freezing and Mulder shook instantly from the cold spray. He hoisted Scully up under the arms, trying to somehow balance her dead weight against him; her head was pressed to his chest. After a few minutes she began to stir and mumble something about the cold. After a sentence or two it seemed to Mulder that she was hallucinating. Hallucinating about Antarctica.

"Shh, Scully I've got you. Baby I've got you, you're safe... you're safe here with me."

He kept talking through her mutterings, trying to ground her, trying to wake her from the dreams. The words spilled out of him, things of safety, things of love and as he spoke her body began to respond to his assurances. She stood up a little stronger, her eyes opened and she focused on the sight of the buttons on Mulder's shirt, all shiny from the water.

"Scully?" She lifted her face to his and she straightened, bearing her weight. His hands smoothed down over her hair and traced her face as she started to register where she was and what was going on. Mulder leaned past her and shut off the water. He helped her out of the stall and wrapped her in towels, rubbing her arms and hugging her close.

When she was safely tucked into bed again and he'd dried his clothes of course, Mulder double-checked that her fever had indeed died down. He grabbed the book Scully had been reading from her nightstand and settled into the chair in the corner of the room.

Scully awoke, her throat dry and voice raspy. She sat up and noticed right away that Mulder was slouched in the chair, asleep with his head tipped back. She ventured into the living room and saw the chilled soup on the stovetop, the finished report on her desk; she smiled as she coughed into her fist. She filled her glass with orange juice and shuffled back into her room.

"You're awake." Mulder grinned.

"So are you. You could have laid down Mulder, I'm sure I wouldn't have noticed last night."

"I just wanted to keep an eye out, in case your fever came back." He stood and stretched his long arms over his head; his back making tiny pops as he twisted side to side. "How are you feeling Scully?"

"My throat's still killing me, and I'm still tired, but I'm otherwise fine."

"You scared me last night. You were hallucinating when I took you into the shower."

Scully pulled the covers over her crossed legs on the bed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She blushed a little. She had a vague recollection of the incident. Mostly she remembered his voice, soft, in her ear, reassuring.

"It's Saturday... want to stay- watch a movie with me?" His eyes were smiling as he nodded.

"I'd love that Scully- love it."

As they pulled an afghan over themselves on the couch, Mulder sneezed; shaking the very walls around them. Scully laughed.

"Here we go again..." she snickered. "C'mere Mulder." She reached up and smoothed her hand across the nape of his neck then guided him to lay his head in her lap. He cuddled to her without effort and they spent the morning nestled together, coughing, sneezing and smiling.

FIN