A/N: Thank you to everyone for the reviews. To say that one of them went up on my wall as inspiration would be the whole truth. I decided this story needed an ending, so here is my attempt.
Mulder tried again to knock on the door while holding a bag of Chinese food and a pizza. He had almost spilled both on his last try. He resorted to kicking the door and hollering.
"Scully, I bring sustenance."
He heard her shuffling towards the door. It opened slowly and he was greeted by his partner- disheveled, without make-up, and almost swallowed by her pajamas.
"What are you doing here?"
"I brought food," he explained, brushing past her and setting his kill down on the table.
"Mulder, this may come as a surprise to you, but normal people subsist on more than pizza and Kung-Pao chicken."
"I know. That's why I brought rice."
She just sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Are you hungry?"
He came out of the kitchen with a plate of pizza and a plate of assorted Chinese food.
"Well you're going to eat anyway."
"Mulder… I'm sick."
"You're not sick. You're feeling bloaty, fatigued, and moody, and you have cramps."
"How do you know?"
"It's the second week of the month. That and you just about bit my head off when I asked you if you were feeling okay."
"No problem. Now, Italy or China?"
He chuckled and handed her the plate of Chinese food.
"Eat half and we'll swap."
She nodded and started to eat while he flipped through the channels.
"I'm sorry you're feeling crummy."
"I'm sorry I look crummy."
"You don't look crummy."
"Mulder, I saw your face when I opened the door."
"Maybe I couldn't find you in all that flannel."
"Hey, Happy Valentines Day."
"Valentines Day is just a ploy by greeting card companies and florists and chocolate conglomerates to boost sales during a slow season. If no one could make money or political book on it, then it would cease to exist, and I don't want to play into that kind of thing. Not to mention gift shops and restaurants and tux rental stores, and you know, I'll bet that sales at jewelry shops skyrocket during the month of February. Do you know how much money is spent every year solely on Valentines Day? What if we gave up the pseudo holiday one year and used all the money we would spend to feed starving children or do AIDS research or something else meaningful?"
"You're just so… "I'm sixteen and I don't have a boyfriend and I hate Valentines Day and I'm going to wear black and shoot death glares at everyone and call it National Heartbreak Day," he said in his most high pitched voice. "It's kind of cute."
"That's not very nice."
"Scully, isn't it a nice idea for someone to have a day set aside to relax and have a good time with someone they love?"
"I think it's more romantic for someone to randomly clear their schedule and surprise someone rather than do it when Hallmark tells them to."
"That's PMS talking."
"That's probably true, but being cynical feels good right now."
"So I guess you hate birthdays then too."
"Why would I hate birthdays?"
"Because, society tells us that we need to celebrate them. It's not spontaneous and you know it's coming."
"I guess I won't get you anything for your birthday then. Wouldn't want to make you mad."
"You can get me something for my birthday."
"It's all or nothing. You've got to let me get you something for Valentines Day also."
"Okay, but what are you going to get on such short notice?"
He stood from the couch and walked towards the door.
"I'll be right back."
He was gone for almost 10 minutes and she was ready to go looking for him when he finally returned.
"Close your eyes, Scully."
She clapped her hands over her eyes and waited until he told her to open them. Sitting on the coffee table was a huge bouquet of wild flowers, a two foot by two foot box of chocolates, and the largest teddy bear she had ever seen.
"Mulder… when did you…"
"You left work at 4. I left at 4:30."
"How did you get wild flowers this time of year?"
He just smiled and sat down.
"Thank you, Mulder," she said, leaning over to hug him.
"You can get me a Valentines present anytime you want."
"Are you gonna get me one?"
"You can share my chocolates."
"Sounds like a plan."
"I think that bear needs it's own seat."
"I think it needs it's own zip code."
"What am I going to do with that thing?"
"Set him in a rocking chair with a shotgun aimed at your door so if anyone comes in, he'll scare them to death."
"Should I also rig a sound recording of someone saying: "Git off muh property!"?"
"Sure. Then you could patent the whole thing and make a tidy profit, then pay off that bill you still owe the FBI."
"Or maybe you could not bring that up ever again and I won't feel the need to smack you."
They finished their dinner in silence, both watching the news but not really paying attention. He took the empty plate from her and set it on the coffee table while she sighed tiredly.
"Come over here, honey."
She wouldn't have obeyed him if he hadn't used the term of endearment. She could count on three fingers the times he had called her that. It was definitely not something she hated. She didn't hate his fingers running through her hair either.
"Maybe you should go to bed," he suggested as her eyelids started to droop.
"Nah," she mumbled back, beginning to feel the effects of the previous week and a full stomach. "I'd rather stay out here with you for a while."
He maneuvered them a little bit so she could lay against him, then pulled a blanket off the back of the couch.
"What do you want for your birthday, Scully?"
"Hmmm. This is good."
"Okay, I think I could manage that. What else?"
"Nothing. I don't want anything else."
They fell into silence again and it wasn't long before she was asleep. He sat up a little and managed to pick her up and carry her to her room.
"Mulder? What are you doing?"
"I'm putting you to bed. You're tired."
"But I don't want you to leave."
"I know. You need your sleep though. I'm going to turn off your alarm."
She rubbed her eyes and sat up.
"But I have to go to work in the morning."
"I'll call and wake you up, okay?"
"You're not going to sleep on the couch?"
"No, not tonight. Go back to sleep."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
He turned the alarm clock off and left the room. No explanations were given, no qualifiers added, no clarifications. They didn't speak of the capacity in which they loved each other. They didn't discuss how the revelation would affect their partnership. They didn't kiss each other or make promises or even exchange a meaningful glance. None of that was needed because they both simply knew.