TITLE: Next Year AUTHOR: Tabby CLASSIFICATION: MSR, kidfic RATING: PG SPOILERS: post-Existence SUMMARY: Watching the World Series in the Mulder household. AUTHORS NOTES: This is for Katie J FEEDBACK: tabby@kronerxf.net and/or visit the website at www.zilmamebrika.org --- November 4, 2001 Mulder/Scully Residence Scully yawned, confused as she lay in bed. She hadn't really remembered falling asleep, so the dark bedroom offered her no clue as to what time it really was or an explanation as to why it was so quiet. She rolled over to Mulder's side of the bed, but instead of being greeted with a warm bear hug, she was met with a cold -- nothing. She sat up in bed with a start, rubbing her eyes until the blurry red digital alarm clock clearly gave her the time. 11:21. Scully grimaced. The last thing she remembered was eating dinner, and then playing with the baby in the bedroom while Mulder cleaned the kitchen. She felt exhausted, but it wasn't much past six-thirty when she had finally managed to give Will his bath which meant that she had been asleep for at least five hours. Scully stretched and found that she was already in pajamas, something else she didn't quite remember. Scully wandered into the nursery, hoping that she would be able to find a clue as to what Mulder and Will had been up to. At ten months old, William Walter Mulder was more active than his parents had anticipated, each blaming their son's energetic tendencies on the other. Like his father, Will liked to stay up at night and sleep in the morning, and had inherited his mother's crankiness before his first meal of the day. Scully liked to put him down by nine o'clock, and it bothered her to no end how Mulder would sneak the baby out of his crib in the middle of the night and play or watch TV or read books in the living room. Quirks aside, Scully made her way to the living room, where she saw the light of the TV before she was able to spot the two men in her life, both settled on an overstuffed armchair. "Hey," Scully quietly said to Mulder. To her dismay, the precious bundle in his lap was wide awake, eagerly waving to his mother. Despite her desperation for a decent night's sleep, she broke into a smile upon seeing the smiling antics of her son. "I know, I know," Mulder defensively settled. "But it's the seventh game of the World Series -- it's history, Scully." "And the score is--?" "We lost, Scully," Mulder answered mournfully. "We lost. I was just trying to prove to Will, here, that the Yanks have done us proud for the past three years, and he should be happy to be a Yankees fan." Scully crawled onto Mulder's lap so she and Will were facing each other, each with a head on one of Mulder's shoulders. Scully breathed in the MulderScent which his rumpled baseball jersey always carried, even when it had been washed -- if it had ever been washed. Scully pushed those housekeeping thoughts aside and concentrated on the scene before her. "I'm sorry your boys lost, Mulder." Mulder shrugged as much as he was able to, with a fragile weight on each of his shoulders. "They did us proud. That's the important thing," Mulder added. "There is always next year." "And I'm sure that Will's going to be properly dressed," Scully added, playing with Will's slightly-oversized O'Neill baseball pinstripe shirt and matching pajama pants. "I think that we're gonna get Jeter next, right buddy?" Mulder asked his son. Will gurgled in recognition of the name. "Jeewa!" he repeated. "Boo-boo!" "Yes," Mulder answered. "Derek Jeter hurt his leg. See Scully, Will's been paying attention." Scully laughed. Mulder had been trying to teach Will in earnest the rotation of the Yankees' ball club for the past several weeks. She was sure that their toddler son would be stringing together baseball trivia for the next few months in return. "What else did you teach him, Mulder?" "Just the basics, Scully. We have to start small and work our way up," Mulder told her. "We know the players and their positions -- look, Will, whose that?" Will looked to where his father was pointing at the television. "Jeewa? Shay?" "See Scully, he knows Derek Jeter AND Shane Spencer," Mulder proudly told her. Scully giggled. Although her rational mind knew that 'jeewa' and 'shay' were the only sounds that Will would be able to intelligibly pronounce, she didn't orally refute Mulder's comment. It didn't matter why Will was saying what he was saying, just that he was saying it. Mulder caught Scully's single tear before she even realized that she had shed one. "What's the matter?" Mulder asked as he muted "We are the Champions" which was filtering through the television. "Sometimes I forget how lucky I am," Scully shrugged. "I was just being silly and started to stress. But none of that's really important. What is important is you and Will." "Don't blame yourself for wanting a decent night's sleep," Mulder chided. "I know we have some things to work out but it's going to be okay, Scully. We're here together. We don't need anything else." Scully nodded, her heart finally rested and content. "Except maybe the World Series." "Next year, Mulder. There's always next year." ~FINIS~