Title: Thanksgiving Day
Summary: A day in the life of Fox Mulder while living in long-term isolation. Author's Notes: This is part of my 'Day' series of stories. It can be read independent of all the others as they are only loosely linked. Enjoy!
Dana Scully carefully took the cover off the turkey and basted it in its juices. The aroma from the bird was intoxicating and she looked at the clock not wanting to believe it would be another hour until it was done. She opened the oven door and carefully slipped the turkey back inside shutting the door behind it.
She grabbed her glass of wine sitting on the counter, and walked back into the living room where Mulder was perched on the couch yelling at the TV.
"I'm sure they can hear your calls," she mocked him as she sat down with her back into the arm rest.
"Wine?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he looked at her.
"Yes, wine," she said taking a sip before she put the glass down on the coffee table.
"That's un-American Scully," he chastised her as he raised a beer bottle to his lips. "Beer is the official drink of Thanksgiving."
She watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he took a long pull from his bottle. He was quite a sexy man normally but, she'd always liked watching him drink. It was a secret little turn on of hers.
He turned to look at her smiling face and dreamy expression.
"What?" he asked amused.
"It's California wine," she replied with a smirk as she shook herself out of her state of attraction.
He smiled back at her. "The turkey smells amazing."
"It'll be another hour," she said as she tucked her feet under his thigh.
"At least this year there aren't any toxins involved," he snickered as he sat against the back of the couch.
"I'm sure it was probably fine, but you never know about the off-gasing from the plastic," she explained.
"I didn't know they stored the damn stuff inside the bird. Shouldn't they just chuck it out to avoid mishaps?"
"The sandwiches were good," she said as she rubbed his shoulder. She knew he was sensitive about his Thanksgiving turkey disaster last year.
"But this year, it'll be a nice meal, thanks to you."
"I've always wanted to do this," she said thoughtfully. "But my mom cooked the turkey every year so there was never a need."
"Well if it tastes as good as it smells, I promise I'll do some serious damage to it."
She looked at him very introspectively for a moment. And he, sensing she wanted to say something, kept quiet.
"Mulder, beside the obvious, what are you thankful for?"
"What's the obvious?" he asked.
"You know, being out of prison, not being dead..."
"Oh, those obvious things?" he snickered.
"Yes," she said.
"I'm thankful you cooked a nice turkey, I'm thankful...it's going to be a mild winter so I can still run," he looked at the line across her forehead and knew he wasn't answering right. "What do you mean Scully?"
"Forget it," she said as she reached for her glass of wine.
"No, really, what?" he asked as he rubbed her knee.
"You can run? That's what you came up with?"
"Yeah, why?" he asked, not sure where this was going.
"Nothing to do with us?" she asked, obviously ticked off.
"Huh?" he asked, confused.
"You're not thankful for me, or our relationship, or..."
"Scully," he interrupted and leaned closer to her face. "You said 'not the obvious'"
"Huh?" she asked confused.
"I thought anything to do with you fell under the category of 'obvious'" he said in all seriousness.
She tilted her head slightly to the side, indicating to him that he needed to continue.
"I love you," he said truthfully. "I'm thankful for you and everything that comes with you. I'm also thankful when you come, but..."
"Mulder," she chastised him.
"Speaking of which," he said leaning back to look at the clock. "We have 50 minutes to work with, here."
"Deadly," he leaned in to kiss her.