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Unlike most of the good things in Vanessa’s life, it started as a dare.
Not a dare, exactly, but an expectation. The X-Files craze swept through the campus’s queer community faster than fire could take down the residence halls, and that was saying something. Ethan tended to ignore the UFO stickers that popped up on walls and the frequent debates about which agent was cuter. But when “Which one of you is the skeptic, and which one of you is the believer?” became the choice fuck-you to gender roles, Ethan knew the show had its fair share of converts. So many, in fact, that Vanessa’s busy schedule and Ethan’s general disdain got them kicked out of the gayest place on campus.
“You can’t be in here!” Cat jokingly shooed them out of the common room. “Spoilers. Lots of spoilers!” Vanessa leaned against the table, narrowly avoiding the dominoes of snacks and soda bottles. It was hard to imagine that so many enthusiasts would be able to find seats in a house this crowded, but they managed it, balancing on the edges of furniture and cuddling under a ceiling lined with lanterns and fairy lights.
“The X-Files is serious business, you two. Top notch bisexual culture. Can’t have you ruining it for yourselves.” She tried to give them a stern look, but the laughter in the eyes (and the bottle in her hand) made that more than difficult. “Aw, c’mon, guys. You’d love it! Join usssssssss. Don’t you want to believe?”
So they left. Equal parts annoyed and amused, they walked the long way back to their dorm in the soft September air.
“Do you…” Ethan looked away, carefully slipping his hand out of his pocket. “Do you want to hold hands?”
“Oh!” She interlinked their fingers, flushing at the sudden rush of safety. “I’d forgotten I could ask for that.”
“Same! I’d been waiting for so long I’d forgotten I was finally yours.” They walked together in silence for a few moments, lost in the pleasure of holding onto each other.
“Oh, look!” Vanessa pointed at the sky with her free hand. “The stars, Ethan! You can see them shimmer out here. They’re like fish scales! Or beacons!” The mesmerized expression on her face enraptured him, and Ethan realized, fireworks in his chest, that he could look at her all he wanted now.
“So,” Ethan said, opening the door for her. “Want to give this show a whirl?”
So they’d try it. Why not? It would be cute to watch a show together. It could be a date, one of their things, a thought that made Vanessa happier than she’d ever admit.
Sure, the intro was cheesy. The technology was old, and some of the “monsters” were downright ridiculous. But Vanessa found herself drawn to Scully (both for her skepticism and her haircut), and she began to look forward to the bi-weekly episodes she’d share with Ethan.
They relaxed into a routine: Ethan’s laptop, Vanessa’s bed, strawberry ice cream (or chocolate, if they needed it). They’d take a break from their lives on Friday and Sunday nights; the assignments could wait long enough for their favorite FBI agents to find themselves grappling with another unexplained encounter.
Turns out The X-Files was gay culture: add ice cream, a nice boy, and a soft blanket, and you’re good to go.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” Ethan said, dropping his jacket on his chair. “Couldn’t pay attention in class after the powerpoint stopped working.”
She looked so comfortable, wrapped up in that bright blue blanket like a gem in an otherwise unremarkable world. The picture was almost as sweet as the anticipation he’d felt all day, imagining the weight of her head against him. Being close to her took a lot of the pressure out of his life, but looking at her—
Sometimes, the sight of her was all he needed.
Vanessa caught a partial glimpse of him from over the top of the laptop. It was hard not to stare, especially with his hair out of order like that. It was hard not to look too closely at his curve of his hands in his pockets, hard not to imagine the way he’d squeeze her shoulders, touch her cheek, tilt her head up…
“Maybe it was an alien!” Vanessa handed Ethan a bowl, leaning closer than necessary to catch the scent of leaves on his shirt. “Oh, I put fudge on it this time.”
“Maybe it was a ghost. Spooky…” He raised his eyebrows at the first bite. “This,” he added, his voice thick, “is why I love you, Vanessa. Did you warm up the chocolate?”
“Yeah, it’s not…that amazing.” She watched him take another half-moon from the scoop. “Hey, careful. Don’t give yourself a brain freeze.”
She winced. Why did she say that? She’d do that sometimes, feign indifference or deflect a complement. They were barely consequential, just small moments of disconnect, but they rattled her and left her fingers cold.
The feeling will pass, she reminded herself. You won’t remember this in a week. But the self-doubt took hold no matter what she told herself, and the only thing to do was ignore it and wait. Vanessa leaned against Ethan’s shoulder and focused on the episode. She could think about her own insecurities after a good 45 minutes of looking into Scully’s eyes.
You’re not good enough for him, you know. He’s so careful about how he treats you, and you tell him all the pointless thoughts that come into your head. You’re careless. He deserves more than that. Vanessa tightened the blanket around her shoulders. It wasn’t true. It just wasn’t.
“Oh my god.” Vanessa set down the empty bowl and pressed her cheek against him. “Look at that face, Ethan. Look at him.”
“I want him to push me against a wall and kiss me until I forget I have a body.”
“Ethan!”
“What!”
“Nothing, you’re right. Continue.”
“I don’t know how you think that what they say is even remotely plausible.” Vanessa smiled at Scully’s line. She was skeptical, yes, but her face held so much vulnerability it almost made her wish she had Scully’s ability to balance the two.
Well. More than almost. Quite a lot, actually, if she was being honest.
“I think it’s remotely plausible that someone might think you’re hot.”
“Hold. On.” Ethan paused the episode and turned to Vanessa, a look of absolute glee on his face. “Did that just happen?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Sure did.”
“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Ethan ate the last of his ice cream and stood up to put the bowl on his desk. “Damn, Mulder! That’s some…whoo!”
Vanessa laughed, watching him.
“Hey, Vanessa?”
“Mm?”
“Guess what I think is remotely plausible?” She smiled, slightly nervous.
“What?”
“That I am very much in love with you.” The smile flickered from her face. She looked down at her hands. There was nothing wrong with what he said; anyone else would find it sweet, endearing. But every time he showed her devotion, she wondered how much time she had until he took his promises back.
“Sometimes…I don’t believe you when you say things like that.”
Ethan gripped the edge of his desk.
“I don’t mean to ruin things,” she said, folding her hands on her lap. “You see things in me…that no one else has ever looked for.” Vanessa crossed the room and lightly touched a hand to his shoulder. I know you want love for me. I know. But I don’t know how to accept it.
“Van.” He forced his voice out and straightened up. “When are you gonna let me prove it to you?”
“I want to believe,” Vanessa said, a sad smile breaking over her face. She took one of his hands, gently stimming with his fingers before letting him go. “I want to. I swear.” Ethan nudged the top of her forehead.
“Hey. Hey. It’s OK.” They stood like that for a moment, just breathing, trying not to think too hard. “You think Scully will get less skeptical?” He asked.
“Hm. Maybe. With time.” Ethan wrapped his arms around her.
“Then so will you.”
“Ha! Well, this might be a little more complicated than extraterrestrial life.”
“What’s more complicated than that?” He tightened his arms and tried not to cry at how badly he wanted her to be happy.
“Ethan?”
“Vanessa?”
“Do you really think I’ll get there?” He pulled away to see her face and filled himself with all the warmth he could summon. She’d see nothing but kindness from him, nothing but the most understanding love. He’d need practice, of course, and planning. Softer hands, maybe. But he would work until she looked at him without a trace of that old sadness, until she kissed him without a tremor and took his compliments with pride in her eyes. He would come home early and make her dinner when she was too tired to walk in the ice; he’d hug her better, longer, more tenderly, until love became such a dominant thread in the fabric that it was woven into her being.
And maybe, by the time they graduated, she would hold herself with confidence. She would see more colors. She’d live the way she was meant to—with magic, with light, with a hoard of gold stars and fireworks and every other symbol of celebration.
“I think…” He drew out the words, tracing her mouth with his thumb. It disarmed her, the gentleness of his gesture, and she summoned up the strength to do what she wished she could do more often—let down the drawbridge and relish her own vulnerability. What was there to be afraid of when she had a boy who looked at her like that?
“…Mulder was wrong.”
“Hmm?” She closed her eyes, her breath catching.
“Yeah. It’s not remotely plausible.” He lowered his voice. Vanessa shivered at how close he was. She’d never get used to this, the sheer intimacy of kissing him, the undeniable lack of distance between them.
“No?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Then what is it?” He kissed her then, and Vanessa felt herself go weightless. She could believe him, if just for a second, a beautiful, sky-blue, endless second.
He pulled back, smiling, a lovely playfulness in his eyes.
“It’s true.” He winked at her, leaning in to kiss her again before she had the chance to process the words.
And somewhere between the fourth kiss and the fifth, she learned how easy it was to believe him.