Title: Curry Confessions
Author: Gillian Leigh E-Mail: gilleigh@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: We all know who owns them, and it's not an 18 year old high school senior with $.45 to her name.
Distribution: Wherever, just let me know please.

Summary: Somebody's cranky.

Author's Notes: Written for the Babyfic challenge at Fandomonium. Elements listed at the end. Oh, and don't ask where the title came from. I don't know.

With his son balanced on his hip, Mulder pulled open the front door.

"Thank God," he said, eternally grateful to the delivery man who had just arrived. "I was worried you wouldn't ever get here." The young man glared at Mulder from under his baseball cap, which was covered in snow. Looking past him, Mulder knew the reason why it took so long for his takeout to arrive--it was snowing like crazy. "Sorry," he mumbled as Will babbled.

"That'll be $21.94, mister." Mulder handed him twenty-five dollars.

"Keep the change." The kid rolled his eyes and shoved the bag into Mulder's hands before trotting off down the steps. Mulder closed the door and shook his head.

"Everybody wants to make easy money these days, Will. Nobody wants to work for what they get." To this, his eight month old son babbled and clapped his hands together; he tried to stuff the plastic bag holding their cardboard encased dinner into his mouth. When Mulder pulled it out of his pudgy hands and deposited it on the cherry wood surface of the table, his son turned and impossible shade of red and began to scream in protest.

"Jesus, Mulder, what did you do to him now?" Scully asked angrily as she came out of the bedroom, clad in pajamas and slippers. He resisted the urge to check his watch--what time was it? 8:00? 8:30? She glared at him as she plucked Will from his arms, and practically stomped into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle from the refrigerator.

As she waited for it to heat, Mulder made the mistake of trying to sneak in a kiss.

"Don't, Mulder." She shrugged him off, moving six inches to her left to get away from him. He set his jaw. She'd been doing this for days...she'd be all over him one minute, and then she wouldn't let him touch her the next. It was really starting to tick him off.

"What's with you lately, Scully?" he threw over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. Stalking off to the bedroom, he stripped out of his jeans and t- shirt. He was standing in front of his dresser in only his boxers, in search of pajama pants, when he heard Scully's reply.

"What do you *mean*, what's up with me lately?" she snapped. He turned to find her standing in the doorway, with William in her arms.

"Gee, Scully, I don't know. Maybe I'm wondering why the hell you're so cranky all the time... You go from practically tearing my clothes off to blatantly rejecting my affection. You're all over the map, and I'd like to know why. Is it that time of the month, *honey*?" He smirked at her as he sat down at the desk and opened his laptop. Much to his dismay, it wouldn't turn on. He stood up with it in his hands, trying to get it to work.

"Damn," he swore under his breath. Their meal of spicy chicken and curry forgotten, Scully strode over to him quickly, and stood before him, her eyes blazing.

"No, Mulder, it's not PMS. That isn't the answer any time there's something wrong with a woman. I haven't felt well lately, okay?" She gently bounced Will. Mulder's contempt became concern.

"Are you sick?" he asked worriedly, giving her his full attention. "It's not your cancer again is it?" She sighed, aggravated.

"No, Mulder! Why do you assume that *every* time I tell you I don't feel well. For God's sake, it's not cancer," she huffed.

"Then what is it? The flu?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm not sick. I'm perfectly healthy..." Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she laughed. "I'm just... I'm pregnant, Mulder."

Mulder's laptop, if it was not totally dead already, met its demise as it hit the floor. His arms went around his wife.

"God, Scully, I love you."

-the end-

Boxers- check [Mulder standing in his boxers in the bedroom]
Curry- check [In the takeout bag]
Cherry-check [Dining room table made of cherry wood]
Dead laptop- check [Mulder's laptop wouldn't turn on]
Quick- check [Scully strode over quickly--close enough, right?]
Easy- check [Mulder tells Will everyone wants to make easy money]
500 Words or less- Oops. I went over, sorry.

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