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It was horror, plain and simple. The crying. The screaming. If Scully was being dramatic, she’d say that God had forsaken this place, had forsaken them. Their office had burned down. They’d been assigned to Kersh, and the ensuing background checks were like monotonous thorns in their sides.
It’s how they ended up here, in an overstuffed daycare in Virginia on a hot summer day. Mulder had somehow been saddled with holding a toddler, and Scully was waiting for paperwork that may never come. Her gaze landed on her partner right as vomit exploded onto his face. It was a pale green like fresh-cut grass turned vile.
Peas. It had to be fucking peas, she thought.
She was sure her mouth hung open, her shock apparent for all to see. Mulder’s eyes were narrow; his lips twisted into a grimace of disgust. The green goo dripped down his face onto his white dress shirt and suit jacket—an Armani one, of course.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry,” the daycare owner gushed, rushing across the small room filled with toddlers and crying babies. “I shouldn’t have asked you to hold her. That was unprofessional of me.” The woman retrieved the unhappy toddler from Mulder, who was now holding the child at arm’s length like a bomb, rigged and ready to explode.
“It’s no problem,” Mulder replied, but he was already backing away, excusing himself to the bathroom where Scully suspected he’d be muttering under his breath and cursing Kersh for sending them on this poor excuse of an assignment in the first place.
As Mulder and the daycare owner retreated to take care of their respective messes, one of the childcare workers approached Scully with an apologetic smile. “Here’s that paperwork you were looking for,” she said, handing her a manilla folder. “Oh, and extend my apologies to your partner.”
*
The fresh air and sunlight were a nice change from the chaotic daycare. Crying leaked through the doors, and Scully hoped it was just the heat getting to the kids. It was certainly getting to her. Mulder grumbled from behind, and she guessed it was getting to him too. That and his encounter with a puke-happy toddler.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Oh, I’m just great, but my dry cleaner might not be quite as happy.” The sarcasm rolled off his voice with a thickness that made her uneasy.
As they approached the car, she took the opportunity to look at him, really look at him. He’d done the best he could in the daycare bathroom. His face was clean, but his shirt was still stained around the collar. Mulder was right–his dry cleaner wouldn’t be happy.
His jaw was clenched, eyes blackened with aggravation. The expression had become all too frequent since they’d been booted from the X-Files. A man like Mulder wasn’t cut out for repetitive tasks. Background checks and busy work were eating away at him. It seemed he was always antsy these days. His patience slowly slipping away from him with the rest of his soul.
His tension was like a contagion. A cold Scully didn’t want but always seemed to catch. They were so interwoven; his pain was her pain. Something needed to change. She knew what she wanted. It was there, simmering under the surface—a desire she could never seem to say out loud.
“At least we got what we came for,” she offered.
“You mean evidence that the local daycare wasn’t, in fact, a front for a methamphetamine cooking operation? I’m not surprised.”
“Muld—”
“Kersh knew this was a waste of time. It’s why it was assigned to us.”
“I guess we can be grateful it was an easy case.”
He huffed. “The only thing I’m grateful for is that you weren’t taken away from me as punishment too.”
Their eyes locked, and her knees suddenly felt weak. The idea that they could be separated at any time felt like a guillotine hanging above their necks. Every day they silently prayed Kersh wouldn’t pull the rope and send the shiny, silver blade careening down.
“I don’t think I could do this without you,” he added. “Any of it.”
And there it was again. That low tug of desire. That nagging, frantic feeling to tell him what she desired. His mouth against hers. Slow and deep.
They got into the car and drove off in silence. It wasn’t until they reached the freeway that she dared to glance at Mulder. She replayed the incident in the daycare. Her composed partner covered in half-digested peas. Mulder barely concealing his disgust as he held the toddler at arm’s length. He could be so dramatic at times. She’d seen him handle biohazard bags with more grace, for crying out loud.
Scully felt wild giggles rising in her throat. The absurdity of their life, the tension, the stress all spilled out into laughter that would have made a hyena cringe.
“What?” Mulder asked, his eyes bouncing from her to the road.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly something. You’re acting like you have front-row seats at a comedy show.”
“The peas,” she uttered between giggles. “The peas just reminded me of The Exorcist, that’s all.”
His lips quirked into a smile. “I almost wish that had been the case. Then, at least, our involvement would’ve made sense.”
“Are you implying you’d rather encounter demons than run a simple background check?” she questioned, her laughter finally settling.
“That’s a tough one, Scully,” Mulder began. “Facing demons from The Exorcist or taking orders from Kersh are both pretty awful choices. A coin flip might be in order.”
“Hey,” she said in faux outrage. “You better not be insulting The Exorcist. It is one of my—”
“Favorite movies,” he finished. “I remember.”
She smiled. Of course, he remembered. Leave it to Mulder to catalog a throwaway statement she’d made five years ago in passing. He barely remembered her birthday. The big stuff didn’t seem important to him, but the little things were his specialty. He knew how she took her coffee. He knew she added bee pollen to her yogurt. Just like he knew teasing her about it would get under her skin because he was right; she was a scientist and should know better.
“I have it, you know,” Mulder announced, breaking her thoughts and redirecting her gaze from the passing trees back to him.
“Have what?”
“The Exorcist. I have it on VHS.”
“And here I thought your videos only included one particular genre. The kind with big-breasted blondes on the front.”
“We could watch it,” he said, ignoring her sly remark. “Tonight. Together.” A second passed, maybe two. “It’s Friday,” he added as if that would strengthen his cause.
It did.
“I’ll be over at 7,” she responded and went back to staring out the window.
*
They sat at opposite ends of the couch. The room was dark apart from the glow of the fish tank. Scary movies were always scarier in the dark, Mulder had insisted.
As The Exorcist began, so did the game. It was one they often played. The name? How close they could get to each other without being too obvious.
Mulder started it (he usually did). He rose to get them beers. When he returned, he sat closer. He repeated the move when the pizza arrived thirty minutes later. Handing her off a slice, he plopped down only a foot away. She got the next round of beers, closing the space and bringing them inches apart. By the time the movie reached the hour-and-a-half mark, their thighs were touching.
Mulder stretched his arms above his head, and in a moment of excited horror, she realized he was using it as an excuse to wrap one around her. He was about as suave as a teenager, but that was okay. She felt like a teenager, too, with her heart beating wildly in her chest.
She was a mess of hormones and nerves. Still, when Mulder pulled her closer, feigning terror after the head-spinning scene, she let him. And when he jokingly swore to protect her (From what, Mulder? If anything, I’d be protecting you), she sunk into him, placing her head on his upper shoulder.
It was the closest they’d ever been—surely a new high score for their unspoken game. And when the movie ended, neither of them pulled away. For all Mulder knew, she was extremely interested in the end credits.
Mulder cleared his throat. “So, what did you think of the… movie?”
“What do I think of the movie I’ve seen a half dozen times before?” At some point, her hand had found a home on his chest. She wasn’t sure when that had happened, but it didn’t stop her fingers from fidgeting with his T-shirt. “I don’t think it should shock you that I enjoyed it.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess I just never really talked to you about the movie before.”
It clicked, then. The inflection of the word. The way it sounded round and slow on his tongue. He wasn’t asking her for a film review. He was asking her thoughts on him… on this… on the situation that had her snuggled against him on the couch in a very unpartnerly way.
“Oh,” she gulped. “The movie.” She paused. Collecting her thoughts was difficult with two beers in her bloodstream and the butterflies in her stomach. “Well, Mulder, the movie was familiar but also a little scary.”
“Scary, huh?”
She shrugged. “Not in a bad way, more like in a I’m-scared-of-ruining-things kind of way… with the movie, I mean. I wouldn’t want my fear to tarnish your… um… viewing experience.”
He chuckled at that. “I don’t think you could ever ruin my viewing experience, Scully. I think you and I could handle whatever viewing experience was thrown at us.”
The hand that had been playing with his T-shirt seemed to have a mind of its own. It had slid lower to his stomach. She could feel his abs through the thin cotton and suddenly wanted to slip her hand underneath the fabric. It would be so easy to just—
“So, you like it then… the movie?”
“I like it,” she affirmed just above a whisper.
“Just like it?”
Her heart was pounding wildly. They were so close, she wouldn’t be surprised if Mulder could hear it. Just say it, her brain screamed. For once in your life, just say what you feel. “A part of me would even say that I love the movie.”
His hand found her jaw then, and he tilted her head to look at him. “Love is a strong word, Scully.”
She wondered briefly if she looked normal. If Mulder could tell that she was a gelatinous pile of goo beneath his fingertips like something out of another horror film. “I told you already, Mulder. This is one of my favorite movies.”
He kissed her then. Slow and deep. The way she’d fantasized about him doing earlier in the car and countless times before. His tongue entered her mouth only after he had thoroughly explored her lips. He tasted like beer and pizza and something so very Mulder. The combination had her warm. And when his hands began to roam her body, it had her blazing hot.
As he eased her backward onto the cushions, he broke the kiss. “Did you say, ‘ONE of your favorite movies?’”
She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Mulder. You know you’re my favorite.”
His eyes crinkled with a smile. God, she wanted to kiss him again. “There are no other movies,” she assured him, and then she pressed her mouth against his as the VCR whirred.