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Scully’s steps across the tarmac are rushed, and she almost slips on icy spots a few times in her haste. She sees Mulder before he sees her, and despite the chill in the air, there’s a heat in her blood caused by one thing. The man’s damned habit of vague phone calls and abrupt hang ups.
Oh, she could strangle him, maybe.
‘I’ll catch you up when you get here’ could mean any number of things are wrong, and with her luck – this near to Christmas – how screwed are they this time?
And of course, the call came on her day off. Typical.
A trek halfway across the Earth’s surface later, she reaches him, finally, where he’s leaning against the bonnet of his car. He’s about to take a sip of his coffee when she calls out, “What is it?”
Please don’t say aliens. Please don’t say aliens.
He turns, happiness to see her melting to concern as soon as he takes stock of her frown. “What’s what?”
Ugh, it’s going to be aliens.
She grits her teeth. “You told me to meet you here as soon as possible.” She hopes her tone conveys her anxiety because why has he resumed that easygoing smile?
“Oh, I didn’t mean to worry you, Scully.” He straightens, hands dipping into his pockets. The suspense dangles for a second more as he rummages – then snaps with a flourish of his hand. “I was just hoping you’d help me cash these in.”
Mulder holds up two tickets, which she squints at then puts two and two together.
Worse than aliens, for making me drive all this way for this.
“Ice skating? That was your big emergency?”
She hadn’t even checked to see where she was driving to, just plugged in the coordinates and floored the pedal. So much for her breaking the traffic laws, huh?
Mulder scratches his chin, attention flicking away for a second. He looks guilty for all of two seconds. “Well, they do expire at 5pm today...” Waggles his eyebrows at that.
Scully wants to be pissed off with him, she really does. But it’s been years since she last went ice skating, and it is her day off, and he is offering...
She wishes it took more to convince her. “Fine, fine.”
“I knew you’d come around!”
“Don’t think I’m not still mad about you dragging me all the way out here for nothin.”
“I didn’t exactly, but I wouldn’t expect any less.” He nods to their left, and they start walking. Bumping his arm against hers, he says, “They’re for an hour, that enough for ya?”
“Yes, too long and we’ll both get blisters.”
Side by side they stroll, and it’s nice not running for once. Very nice.
The air smells vaguely of chocolate and popcorn, the root cause being the food stands nearby. They come into view, small wooden structures dusted with a smattering of snow on their roofs, strung about Christmas lights in technicolour rainbow hues.
Scully is tempted to take a detour over when she sees a couple standing with cups of hot chocolate, their hands joined between them. A pang of longing runs through her, but she doesn’t end up deviating from the beeline path her and Mulder are taking. There’ll be time for all that good stuff that later.
Scully wants to get out on the ice.
They join the back of the queue, and as they wait in line for rental skates, Scully shivers. This entire setup is outdoors, and the nip in the air is staring to get to her. She snuggles into her scarf a bit more, the cashmere becoming less effective against the cold with the rest of her so poorly protected. It’s bright red, the colour of a maraschino cherry – a match for the tip of her nose if the tingling is of any indication.
“It’s cold out, Scully,” Mulder says to her as they move up in the line. Either he’s read her mind or her body language. “Where’s your jacket?”
“You said this was an emergency.” She reminds him. “I was in a rush so I forgot to bring one.” Her scarf and mittens had been in her purse, the hat she’s wearing tossed in the back of her car. She can picture her lovely, warm coat hanging from the hook in her apartment. Misses it dearly. Curses Mulder again.
“Well,” he murmurs, “that won’t do now will it?”
He shrugs off his jacket, then holds it up with the intent to help her into it.
Scully stares at it, eyebrows raising momentarily.
“What?”
“I’m lettin’ ya borrow mine.”
“I can’t take your jacket, it’s freezing.”
He must think to appeal to her Catholicism because he says, “Think of it as penance for my trickery.”
That does it, and so Scully slips into the coat with a huff she doesn’t mean. It’s one of those waterproof ones that crinkles when you move, way too big for her, but deliciously warm and laced with the scent of his cologne (if her breathing deepens, no it doesn’t).
When Mulder blows into his hands to heat them up, guilt makes Scully take off her scarf. She stands on her tiptoes to drape it around his neck, looping it around itself so that it’s secure. “Fair trade?”
At this he smiles and pats at his collar. “Fair trade.”
They wait in comfortable silence, trade their tickets for two pairs of skate, then begin searching for a place to sit and lace up their new footwear. She doesn’t find herself in this part of DC very often, but it’s much like anywhere else is this time of year. Crowded, lively, packed with families and couples groups of friends chattering to a joyous crescendo.
The final bout of waiting is for the top of the hour, when the last batch of skaters come off the ice and the new replace them. A bell jingles, and it’s time.
“Ready for showtime?” Mulder asks, legs trembling as he stands.
Scully stifles a laugh at the ridiculous sight. “As I’ll ever be.”
One of them makes it to the gate without issue, the other stumbles with all the grace of a sweet potato on stilts.
“You sure you’re up for this?” she teases.
Fire in his eyes, he tells her, “More than anything.”
Her nodding is born of pure amusement, which she carries with her as she takes a step out onto the ice.
Mulder follows, his confidence shattering slowly but surely. To his credit, he really does try. Unfortunately, that fact doesn’t mitigate how hard he wobbles as he tries and fails to push away from the wall, mannerisms not unlike that of a baby deer.
Scully skates a small circle in front of him, gliding with ease.
“How are you doing that?”
“I grew up near an ice rink,” she tells him, “used to go on weekends a lot with my sister.”
“Ah, I’m in the presence of a professional then.” He stretches a hand out to her. “Care to help a sorry beginner?”
Rolling her eyes, she accepts.
In hindsight, tugging on his arm wasn’t the best idea.
Mulder almost falls, but she manages to catch him and clutches tightly to him. He’s an armful that almost topples her off balance, which thankfully doesn’t happen. Falling on your ass hurts, and these are new pants she’s wearing.
When he manages to find his footing, he’s staring into her eyes, face level with hers.
Her gaze drops to his lips and abruptly back up.
Their breath crystallises in the space between them.
She can blame her rosy cheeks on the cold, not at all on their sudden proximity.
God, have his eyes always been that green?
‘You alright?’ is what comes out of her mouth instead – small mercies.
He nods, clears his throat. “The sting of humiliation will soon fade, I hope.” Someone in a Santa costume skates by and Mulder stares after them, breaking the spell of tension. “Think he’d sell me his costume for ten bucks?”
“You’d wear it?” She laughs.
“Nah, but I’d love to see Skinner do it.”
For the first quarter of an hour, they take it nice and slowly, sticking to the rail at the perimeter. Eventually, Scully has a wicked idea. She ‘abandons’ Mulder for a minute and comes back with something glorious.
“Seriously? I don’t need that.”
He does in fact, ‘need that’, and seems to realise this himself once she expresses her desire to actually skate at a reasonably fast speed.
Kids zip by, giggling at something or another. Some small part of Scully hopes it’s directed at Mulder’s new reliance on the kiddy-penguin skating aid. At least some of it has to be.
“Like what you see?” he asks after catching her staring at him with a smile.
“Oh, yeah. Who wouldn’t?”
With the penguin in tow, the two of them are able to ramp up the speed, doing laps of the rink with ease. Mulder improves, as does Scully as she reacquaints herself with the rhythms of the ice after so long away. It’s so much fun to soak up the atmosphere together, spending time together without the looming threat of a case deadline or a hotel checkout time. No, this moment is for their pure enjoyment, and you’ll bet your bottom dollar they’re taking advantage of every second of it.
All too soon, the bell is ringing again to signal that their hour is up. They leave the ice (and penguin (named by Scully as Peter (‘Big Pete’ to Mulder))) behind, and just in time as well. Mulder, for all his chivalry, looks absolutely freezing. He might as well have icicles hanging out of his ears, and she swears there’s a cool tone to his skin that isn’t usually there.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” The question is innocent, but she knows that if she answers truthfully, she’ll never hear the end of it.
Lying being a sin... “I did.” She tacks on a ‘thank you’, and much to her chagrin, he beams like the cat who got the cream.
Scheming jackass.
“Come on,” she says, taking him by the elbow after they return their skates, “let’s go get you warmed up.”
Mulder flashes her one of those grins, eyes bright and smug satisfaction radiating off of him in waves. “Can we get hot chocolate?”
Scully feels warm now, perhaps not for the same reason as she had when she’d first arrived to the rink. Against all better judgement, she’s been visited by Charles Dickens and come out the other side of this outing quite jolly indeed. Next time though, she will be demanding more details before a case.
“Sure, but you’re paying.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gestures her forward, ever the gentleman. “Full steam ahead, captain.”