Lunchbreak

Scully sat down at the desk, and stared down at her yogurt. She knew when Mulder got back from the vending machine she wouldn't hear the end of it. It didn't matter what he thought, the bee pollen was heathy and delicious and and added sweetness and texture to her lunch.

She looked around the little office they share. So much had happened in just this room. They had discovered all types of darkness and mysteries here. More importantly, they had become friends. Friends was certainly not a strong enough word. They loved and trusted each other, probably more than anyone else in the world. They both knew the other like the back of their hand.

Secluded to the basement, they had made the best of their situation. More than that, they had made a difference, one case at a time. Work couldn't just be work, it was made personal. Arm's length had long been forgotten and forged through by the special occupation they held.

She smiled to herself at the memories. Just then Fox came though the door. She knew to call him Mulder, but she liked to think of him as Fox. It sounded silly, but it made her feel closer to him. It humanized him more.

Carrying a bag of potato chips and a soda, he headed straight for the projector. Flipping through slides, Scully thought about how for him, he really never clocked out. To her, this was a job, at least that's she had to believe to not spiral. The X Files and Mulder had both become a very large percentage of her life, but she still had to have her off time. Or at least, plan to, even if it was often crashed by Mulder's knock or call. An X File had even found her on vacation once. But Mulder, he never even tried to shut it out. Any vacation days he has taken had been forced upon him or have been spent recovering from an X File generated ailment. He lived and breathed the X Files. And she had begun to too.

After finding what he had been looking for in the disorderly pile, Mulder projected his first image. An elderly woman with a severe rash took up the wall. He just began to open his mouth, to spout a theory, when Scully spoke up.

"Shingles."

"But-"

"I know I've said this more times than I can assume anyone else on the plant but," She looked to Mulder, "There is nothing extraterrestrial about that." She stated, taking a bite of her yogurt without looking to his face.

"Bee pollen," he observed, with eyebrows raised.

"Don't you dare. Not with your nutritious lunch," she eyed the contents he had carried in from the hall.

"The difference is, I accept exactly what I'm doing," He throws a chip in his mouth. "This is unhealthy. Too much salt, sugar. I know who I am. I know my meal. But what even is that? It's a fad! You went to medical school, Scully! Didn't you have to write a composition paper on that or something?"

Scully lowered her eyes, smiling to herself. "There are health benefits. And even if not, it won't hurt me. I like the taste. It's better than eating plain yogurt," she looked up to meet his eye, "Or junk. I may fall vicim to a fad diet once in a while, but at least I've never spent the night in the drunk tank."

"Scully, you know that wasn't my fault! I was only chasing down a lead."

"After camping out in the street all night," Scully scoffed.

"Well, I wouldn't have saw the Jersey Devil otherwise, would I?" Mulder questioned.

"What about when you just almost died sneaking on an old," Scully waves her hand, "Bemuta Triangle ship."

"I went back to 1939!" he earned an eye roll at that. "I did! How else do you explain how I had that black eye? And don't say it was from falling in the water, it matches my memory exactly."

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. Their lunch and debates continued, in similar fashion to many days before it.