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It starts with a thank you kiss. And, Scully reasons, it’s not even really a kiss. Not one that counts anyway. It’s merely a quick peck pressed to Mulder’s warm cheek. Her lips barely connect with his slightly stubbly cheek before it’s over.
“Thank you for my gift,” she says, her fingers touching the soft, cozy scarf.
“Thank you for mine.” He leans down to her, mirroring her actions, and kisses her cheek. She thinks it’s a nanosecond longer than the peck she gave him. What she knows for sure is that they’re wearing matching flushes on their cheeks.
Now is the perfect time to leave. They exchanged presents, and kisses, too. If she hurries, she will be just in time for Christmas at her mother’s. Her feet, however, refuse to move. Everything inside her is begging her to stay. At least for another moment. Her eyes are glued to Mulder’s face where she glimpses a hint of her lipstick.
She wants to know what that color looks like on his lips.
“Merry Christmas,” she says, needing an excuse to touch his arm and kiss him again. She inches closer to where she wants to be so desperately and kisses the corner of his mouth. Drawing the kiss out for a second, she decides that this is almost a kiss. But Mulder doesn’t give her the time to contemplate the semantics of kissing.
“Merry Christmas.” Just like before, he does as she did, kissing her softly, lingering for a moment too long. With a sigh, he adds, “you should leave.”
“I should.”
“I’m not throwing you out. I don’t want to cause trouble with your family.” And yet, he’s the one who initiates the next kiss, preventing her from leaving.
His lips find her forehead and her eyes flutter shut. He’s never been patient, not as long as she’s known him, so she’s not surprised that he doesn’t stay there. The loss of his lips is short-lived. He kisses her right temple, then her left. He kisses the shells of her ear and when she fears he’s done, when she misses his lips before they’ve even left her face, he kisses the tip of her nose.
“I don’t want you to leave.” The words tangle in her hair as he holds her close to him. “But you should. I have kept you long enough.”
“Mulder, I like spending time with you.”
“Thank you for being out there with me today,” he says and she expects him to kiss her again, longs for it, but he just toys with the fringes of her scarf. “I should have told you that earlier. It means a lot to me. You being there and… you being here now.”
“Mulder.” His name tumbles from her lips and sounds as desperate as she feels. Her hands find his cheeks and his stubble pricks her skin. She has to get on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead, but it’s worth it. He’s worth the pain that shoots through her calves and her neck.
She’s one who’s out of patience today. They almost killed each other – or maybe they didn’t. The memory of the haunted mansion is fading like a nightmare. Whether they did or not, one thing is certain: They can’t do this forever, play the waiting game. She doesn’t want to wait a moment longer.
“Mulder,” she says his name again, still holding his face in her hands. She repeats her steps, kisses his cheek first, then the corner of his mouth. Gives his nose a nuzzle. “It’s time.”
Their first real kiss answers every question that’s haunted her for months. After the hallway, neither of them made another move. Either out of fear or out of embarrassment. Now she knows they were just waiting for the right moment.
She breathes him in, tastes him, and knows that this is merely a trial run, a first of many. Mulder’s kiss is quintessentially him; full of passion, of curiosity, but most of all, love. She arches up, presses her whole body against him, and Mulder, bless him, does the same. She whimpers as his thumb rubs over her cheek.
“Are you still leaving?” He asks, out of breath. She admires her lipstick on his lips for just a moment, smiles because it looks as perfect as she imagined it.
She answers him by kissing him again.