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“Let’s get out of here,” Mulder says, his voice quiet, defeated. He puts his hand on Scully’s back; her clothes are drenched and his skin damp as he leads her out of the classroom, out of the school. His shoes squeak on the linoleum floor and the both of them leave tiny puddles as proof that they’ve been there.
Outside, Scully shivers. Mulder feels her body tremble through the cotton of her jacket. His only thought right now is to take her back to the hotel. He searches for his car keys in his pockets and can’t find them there. The fabric chafes his skin as his fingers turn frantic.
“Mulder.” Scully touches his shoulder. How is she so calm? Why is she not freaking out? Mulder can see her breath as she says something to him. But he doesn’t hear the words. His ears are ringing and he blinks.
“You’re hurt,” she touches two fingers to his cheek, right under his eye. Her touch is so soft, so careful. He doesn’t feel any pain. Not there anyway. “Does it hurt?”
“I could have lost you again, Scully.” Her fingers still on his face. “You said you were in trouble and I…”
“It wasn’t me,” she reminds him, her voice shaky. “I am fine."
"This time,” Mulder says, “You weren’t the last time. All I could think about when I got that call was… losing you again. You called me the night Duane Berry… and I was too late. What if I’m-” Scully doesn’t let him finish. Her hand cups his cheek, the gentlest of touches. The breath she lets out tastes like exasperation as it lands on his own lips. Mulder doesn’t know when she got so close; their faces are inches apart and then there is no distance left at all. Their lips collide, crash into each other. There’s no telling who has made the final move; Mulder thinks it must have been her, but then he can’t think at all anymore.
They stumble against the car, a jumble of limbs. Scully tastes like chlorine, like expensive lipstick and something Mulder can’t get enough of, something he is sure is the sweetest thing he’s ever known. Their tongues rub against his each other, just like their bodies. Scully moans into his mouth, a mix of pleasure and pain. His hands are on her hips, holding on, squeezing tight. She is so warm, hot, feels perfect there in his grip. Her mouth opens more, her lips moving against his frantically. Her hands are on his back, leave tattoos of her fingerprints on his skin, through his clothes. They’re the perfect picture for a high school parking lot; the desperation of their groping obscuring a deeper set of emotion. Mulder drinks his own fears from her tongue, tastes her unrelenting faith.
“Ouch.” The word breaks the spell. Their lips slow down and then, just like that, stop. Mulder moves away from her, gravel popping under his feet. He stares at her, her dilated pupils, thoroughly kissed lips. He licks his own and tastes her, still feels her there. Scully’s eyes move to his mouth, follow every miniscule movement. Mulder puts his hands next to her head, frames it. If he touches her again, he won’t be able to stop.
“Just the car door,” Scully explains, “it was digging into my back.” Mulder nods. Does that mean she doesn’t regret it? Does she want to… he doesn’t allow himself to finish the thought. Her hair is still damp and curls against her cheek. Don’t touch her, he thinks, but his hand reaches out anyway to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pink cheeks are warm as his finger wanders over it, following an invisible trail to her lips. He allows himself to touch them and Scully doesn’t stop him either. Does she want… does she?
“We should get back,” his voice doesn’t sound like his own, “to the hotel. Get out of these wet clothes and get some sleep.” His finger is still on her lips. Mulder is uncertain; does he want to her agree or object? Scully kisses his fingertip and he shivers.
“Just one more moment.” He doesn’t know what she means at first, but then she is against him again, as close as she can be, her lips searching his. Mulder sighs into her mouth, unable to stop. If she asked him, if he dared to tell her, he’d have to admit that he’s wanted to do this ever since she was returned. Up until now he hasn’t allowed himself to entertain the thought seriously. She’s his partner, she’s his best friend. She is, for lack of a better word, everything that is good in his life. His tongue caresses hers; the frenzy of their first kiss has subsided, has been replaced by the simple need to be close, to get to know each other in the one way they haven’t yet. They need to stop. He knows it and yet… he deepens the kiss. ‘Just one more moment’, she whispered moments, or eons, ago. As soon as this kiss ends, as soon as their lips disengage, it will be over. They will go back to being Mulder and Scully. A moment of desperation, of needing the other one in each and every way, no matter what. They will be able to explain this away, or they would be; they’ll never speak of this moment again, this lapse of reason. Mulder doesn’t want it to end, wants to keep kissing her, wants more.
The kiss ends just like it started; Mulder doesn’t know who moves away first. In a matter of seconds they’re no longer making out in a public parking spot while technically working a case. They’re not even touching. The car keys are in his hand, the metal digging into his skin. They get into their respective seats and don’t speak a single word on the short drive. When they arrive at the hotel and Scully tells him good night Mulder wonders if it has happened at all. But then he sees the hint of a smile flit over her face. It happened, he thinks, as he, too, says good night. His lips tingle as he closes the door behind him.