3 Works by yukla in The X-Files
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"This is completely tasteless.”
Mulder shrugs a little, then. “Maybe it is—but you still came.”
“Well.” Scully clicks on her flashlight, pans it in a slow, bright arc across the cramped living room, the throat of the hallway, the faraway, ruffled back of Mulder’s dark head. The easy answer here is: Of course I did, because someone needs to make sure you stay out of trouble.
She doesn’t know how to say: Coming was my only option. It has been for a while.
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“I said seven thirty,” Scully complains as she opens her front door, trying not to look as flustered as she feels, “not seven—”
She pauses. Looks up at Mulder’s sheepish expression and the unmistakably sauce-stained bag of Chinese take-out in his hands. Looks down at his casual jeans and shirt, the comfortable sneakers he usually prefers wearing during flights.
“Mulder,” she says slowly. “If that’s your definition of ‘something nice,’ I seriously worry about the state of your closet.”
Mulder hijacks Scully's meticulously-planned evening with the discovery of a new case on the other side of the country.
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“I can say something is a bad idea and still do it.” Scully lifts her chin and dusts her hands off, a prim one-two motion. “Why do you think I’ve stayed assigned to the X-Files all these years?”
“Because the work is fascinating,” Mulder replies instantly. “Because you’re a scientist, and proving things wrong is like crack to you. Because your partner is extraordinarily handsome and charismatic and you can’t possibly resist saying no to him.”
Scully rolls her eyes. “Two out of three, Mulder.”
Scully and Mulder get high.