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He trained his gun on Krycek, finger tightening on the trigger. He couldn’t think, all he could see was his father lying on the bathroom floor, blood leaking from mouth. Then fire tore through Mulder’s shoulder and he was on the ground.
-
“You okay?”
Mulder smiled up at Scully. He was lying shirtless on a table, Scully holding his hand. She was dressed for the occasion in jeans and one of his old t-shirts, the hem tied at her waist.
The tattoo artist was pouring a thimbleful of ink. He paused to hand Scully a marker.
She kissed Mulder’s cheek and moved over to his shoulder.
-
They were both drowsing in bed, snuggled close. It was Sunday night, and tomorrow morning they would have to go to the Hoover building and act like they hadn’t spent most of the weekend in bed together. Mulder was reluctant to let himself drop off to sleep; this felt like one of those perfect moments he needed to savour. Scully seemed to feel the same, her fingers starting to trace patterns on his chest. He kissed her, and her hand came to rest on his shoulder.
“Does this ever hurt?” Scully murmured, tracing the gunshot scar.
“If I say yes, will you kiss it better?”
Dutifully, she pressed a warm kiss to it, before sitting on the side of the bed, fishing around for her robe.
“Where are you going?” he said, sitting up.
“I’m just getting some tea, do you want some?”
Instead he touched her tattoo.
“Does this ever hurt?”
“No, I forget it’s there half the time,” she said with a laugh, slipping on her robe.
They were finishing their tea when Mulder broached the subject again.
“I always wanted a tattoo.”
“Really?” Scully grinned. “Why haven’t you gotten one?”
“I just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”
-
Scully uncapped the marker.
“Do you trust me?”
“More than anyone.”
“Then close your eyes.”
-
They were on his couch, the ball game on the tv, pizza abandoned on the table. Scully’s lips were on his neck as she unbuttoned his shirt, before trailing kisses to his scar.
Later, as they both dressed, he had an idea.
-
The needle bit into his skin, the buzz of the machine droning. Scully squeezed his hand.
It wasn’t long before cool water soothed the sting. The artist wiped away the water and the excess ink and helped Mulder sit up.
“Have a look.”
Mulder took the offered mirror and turned it to see his shoulder. ‘Love, Scully XOXO’ was signed across the scar in black ink. He gripped her hand tightly, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion.
-
Another Monday morning. He stood under the shower head, the cool water washing the sleep away. The curtain rattled and Scully stepped in.
“I just want to rinse off before I go home and change.”
He ran the soap across his chest, as she turned under the water. He was lathering his hair with shampoo, when she touched his tattoo.
“This healed nicely,” she said, wiping suds away from it. Scully kissed it softly.
“See you at the office,” she stood on tiptoe for one last kiss, but Mulder decided that it might be a good day to go in a bit late.