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It’s kind of funny how she just gets into the driver seat, just like that.
Mulder doesn’t say what’s on his mind when he gets into the passenger side. He doesn’t try to hold her hand, he doesn’t want to sweet-talk her; he knows it’s a treat, because she doesn’t like the crowds, the noise, the smoke and the pollution and...
Scully can be a party pooper sometimes.
But she’s his precious party pooper, one he has just spent a fortune on and got his ass frozen to bring back. She’s his now, because finders keepers, right?
Mulder really thought that when he said, I know just the spot for today’s firework show, she would give him a sweet smile like a 16-year-old who got invited by the cute boy next door to go watch the Fourth of July fireworks. He fantasized about hot dogs and chips, cherry colas and apple turnovers, maybe an ice cream cone or a slice of watermelon.
After all, his childhood wasn’t always bleak. He had his share of fun, which is something he too often forgot. He remembers pointing at the sky and jumping in excitement, he remembers holding Samantha’s shoulder because her hands were covering her ears, saying, Fox, look! It's so pretty!
He remembers sitting on a blanket, smelling BBQ in the air. He remembers parades and flying candy; his Raleigh Chopper was the coolest one on the block...
Mulder reminisces about the sweet memories of his brief happy past as his partner speeds down the street, switching lanes and driving on the little hill where the Gunmen promises a spectacular show.
She parks in a way so they can sit on the trunk to watch the show. It’s gonna be a 30-minute show, they say. Mulder wonders when would be a good time to kiss her, he wonders if the night air is too chilly, he wonders how many people has she seen fireworks with, and if, as he plans to ask nicely and dorkily, can he reserve all her future firework shows?
Scully hops onto the trunk of his car and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“You cold?” He asks, and she shakes her head.
Mulder also hops on next to her, sitting purposely too close. He leans against her, feeling all is right with the world at this particular moment, ignoring the fact that her face is still frostbitten, ignoring that there’s no X-Files to go back to once they return to work, ignoring that Scully seems particularly antsy today.
“No talking later, Mulder.”
Out of the blue, she announces.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to be shouting back and forth. My throat’s been...hurting a little since this morning.” She rubs her eyes with one hand, looking like a child getting out of bed. “I might be coming down with something.”
He bites his tongue so he won’t say, how come you didn’t say anything to me?
Maybe she had wanted a nice quiet night. Maybe she had turned down an invitation to her mother’s, who most likely does Fourth of July parties like normal people. They are a Navy family, for God’s sake, and there must be family traditions. Yet he had to drag her out here on a lonely little hill for some loud noises and lights. Haven’t they witnessed enough excitement already?
Mulder wants to kick himself.
“You wanna head back?” He offers. “There’s always next... summer. We don’t need to be out here if you don’t feel like it.”
“Why do you—” She breathes out, and wets her lips before speaking again: “We’re here. We can enjoy a show. I just don’t want to... shout back and forth over the fireworks. My voice...”
“Gotcha.”
They sit in silence that’s not awkward yet not exactly comfortable. They don’t usually not talk. They always, always talk. Mulder realizes that, like a kid, he has a million things to say to her every time he sees her, this is what happened to me while you were away, this is what took place before we met, this is what goes on around us when we are together...
He knows he’ll never run out of things to say to her. But right now, he is just happy to be sitting next to her and waiting for the fireworks to begin. Two more minutes now. Some little ones are going off here and there, set off by residents around the area. Mulder wonders if Captain Scully bought fireworks for his children to set off on Independence Day.
“Hey Scully,” he whispers to her, voice low and serious. “Have you heard that you can make a wish at the very first firework? You’d have to scream it out loud.”
She looks straight ahead, but seems to burrow in a little closer to him.
“You can make a wish anytime, Mulder.”
“Yeah, but when you do it at the very first one, it’ll come true.”
She snorts to communicate her disbelief. “Are you going to wish?”
“What, are you going to listen?”
She returns with a bashful smile. He further explains, “ ’Problem is, people are always too focused and consumed by the anticipation of the fireworks that they forget they were supposed to wish.”
She nods in agreement.
“You should think about what you want to wish for.” He advises as he gets ready himself.
BOOM!
The first firework sets off the night, orange and hot pink sparkles light up the sky.
“I LOVE YOU, DANA SCULLY!”
BOOM! BOOM!!
More fireworks follow, dots and dashes and lines, blue, red, orange, and white fill up and paint the black canvas.
“SCULLY, I LOVE YOU!”
At the top of his lungs, Mulder screams. He has always wanted to do that. Even if she were to cover her ears with her hands, it doesn’t matter one bit.
He turns to peek at her, and meets her big blue eyes. “Scully, the show’s that-a-way.” He quips with a grin. “You’re gonna miss it.”
She inches closer and plants a sweet kiss on his mouth, and he kisses her back, holding her to him as close as possible. Loud and earthshaking, the sounds of the fireworks are celebrating their love.