Title: Mulder’s Thanksgiving Dinner

Author: Girlie_girl7

Email: Girlie_girl74@yahoo.com

Date: 11-13-03

Rating: PG

Category: MT, Holiday theme

Spoilers: Pre JS

Archive: Anywhere after two weeks at VS11

Disclaimer: Fox owns ’em.

Summary: Mulder tries to prepare a wonderful

Thanksgiving dinner for Scully and in usual Mulder

fashion; all hell breaks loose.

~ Mulder’s Thanksgiving Dinner ~

“Mulder, Mulder, wake up, it’s me.”

“Oh hi Scully, I made dinner,” Mulder slurs with a big

goofy grin on his face. It doesn’t help that he’s

doped to the gills.

Scully runs the back of her fingers over his bruised

cheek. “No Mulder, no Thanksgiving dinner this year.”

Mulder closes his eyes and frowns, “But I made dinner

just for the two of us.”

“Yes you did, but apparently when you opened your

cupboard door, a shelf gave way and you were struck by

a can of flying yams, several cans of beans and

weenies and a softball. Mulder, why do you keep a

softball in your kitchen cupboard?”

Mulder leans back into his pillow while his eyes

remain shut. “Where else would you expect me to keep

it?”

“Okay,” Scully drags out.

Mulder swallows hard and opens his eyes, “Scully,

where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

Mulder wrinkles his brow, “All because of a flying can

of yams?”

Scully takes his hand, “No, the fireman brought you

in.”

Mulder grimaces as he lifts his hand to his bandaged

head. “The fire department brought me to the

hospital, why?”

Scully sits down in the chair next to his bed. “They

found you on the floor after your fire alarm went

off.”

“My alarm went off?” Mulder croaks out.

“Yes, after you were knocked down by the flying yams,

you struck your head on the floor.”

“So why did my alarm go off?”

“I’m getting to that, so you were out cold and your

turkey was in the oven and well, it burnt up and the

smoke set off the alarms in your apartment. Oh, and I

think you better stay with me for awhile.”

“Was my apartment destroyed?” Mulder asks through a

dopey haze.

“No, just a little smoke damage, but all your

neighbors ended up standing outside the building for

hours on Thanksgiving.”

“So they’re all pissed at me?”

“Mulder, I swear I saw them following the ambulance

with torches and pitch forks.”

Mulder has to smile at that one. “So my bird is

toast?”

“When I arrived, I got a look at the damages, and do

you remember that rock in the attachŽ case that Krycek

stuck us with?”

“Yes.”

“When I opened the oven door, your turkey looked just

like that rock.”

Mulder groans. “And I spent a wad on that bird.”

“Of course I made sure all of your appliances were

off, what with all that standing water.”

“The fireman doused my apartment?”

“No, as near as we can figure, you had the kitchen tap

on and it flooded the place while you were out cold.”

“Shit,” Mulder softly murmurs.

“You’ll be hearing from your downstairs neighbor. It

seems you flooded out his dinner party.”

Mulder moans then realizes he can’t lift his left arm.

He looks over to see its incased in plaster. His

eyes grow wide as he looks back to Scully seeking yet

another answer.

“When you fell you hit your elbow and broke it,”

Scully says motioning to his arm.

Mulder lies his head back on the pillow and looks up

at the ceiling then frowns, “Scully, what day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“I’ve been here for three days!”

“Yes, the smoke you inhaled caused you to develop a

slight case of Pneumonia, you were pretty much out of

it.”

Mulder coughs, and vaguely remembers the torturous

coughing they woke him up to do on a regular basis.

“Anything else I should know?”

“I would avoid my brother Bill, if I were you.”

“Why, did I do something to him too?”

“Not exactly, but after our Thanksgiving together, I

was supposed to fly out to San Diego with mom to have

dinner with Bill and Tara.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Mulder softly says turning his

head to look at his partner, “why didn’t you go?”

Scully smiles, gets up and leans over the railing to

brush the hair away from Mulder’s eyes. “Mulder, how

could I go when you were lying in a hospital bed,

again?”

Mulder loves to be doted on by Scully and sticks out

that bottom lip for even more sympathy. “I’m sorry, I

really screwed up this time.”

Scully stops stroking his hair and straightens his

blankets up around his cast. “Yes, you did, but you

did it for me.”

“I did?”

“Yes silly,” Scully laughs. “You were determined to

make me a nice Thanksgiving meal. I find that sweet

and endearing.”

Mulder blushes. “So you’re not made at me?”

“Mad! Of course not, it’s not like it was my apartment

you trashed.” Scully laughs.

Mulder smiles and softly chuckles while Scully kisses

his cheek. “Now you get some sleep and I’ll see if we

can get you out of here soon.”

Mulder closes his eyes and lets a small smile cross

his face as Scully starts to leave. She turns back

just as she gets to the door, “Oh and Mulder, when you

get well I’ll make you very thankful.”

The door slowly closes behind Scully. Mulder pulls

the blankets up to his chin and softly mumbles, “Happy

Thanksgiving to me.”

~ The End ~