Chapter Text
He couldn't have rushed them out of that motel room any quicker. Convinced that this creature of the woods may be pursuing Scully, he nearly banged the door down before she appeared next to it, at his adjoining room. Or was it hers? Despite the increasingly frustrating lack of ‘consorting’ happening in these crappy motels across the country, they never kept those lines very clear. They were always in and out of each other's spaces- discussing the case, sharing a meal, sometimes just sitting together silently while they considered the mysteries of life.
Sometimes, though, they considered other things. He considered her brilliance, her stubbornness, her beautiful face. He considered what it might be like to drink that wine and eat that cheese before slowly removing her sensible suit and watching her exquisite face saying his name.
For her part, she considered what the weight of him might feel like on top of her, if their sexual appetites would align. Would he be gentle or rough? Probably a bit of both, she reasoned, considering what she understood to be the shape of his passions.
But these were not things that ought to be considered.
The rest of the journey from Florida to DC proved to be annoyingly less-than-quick. Scully insisted he get checked out for his latest injury at a proper hospital, and he was a bit too tired to argue. The wait at the hospital was considerable, and it seemed like maybe things just moved slower here. By the time he was stitched up, they had missed the flight they had booked and were again, waiting- this time at the ticket stand at Tallahassee International Airport.
“Oh I’m so sorry y’all- they took off just a couple of minutes ago. Dang, so close!” relayed Marianne, the sweet but infuriating ticket agent.
“When, then? When is the next flight to DC?”. Mulder asked, irritation evident in his voice.
“Well see now that's the thing-there are only three daily direct flights scheduled from Tallahassee to the District of Columbia. I wouldn't bet on the last one tonight considering the system moving in from Miami and all. I always tell folks -you don't like the weather here, well just wait a minute or 2 and we'll mix it up for ya!”.
Scully looked up at Mulder then to find him wearing a prominent scowl.
“Thank you”, Scully hurried, “can you direct us towards the rental car area?”
His head snapped back at her in surprise. “Scully, that's what, a fifteen hour drive?”
Turning back to the innocent employee, he flashed his badge as he pleaded in his most serious, FBI tone, “We're federal officers and it is imperative we get back to our home base immediately”.
Scully had to conceal a smile at this- he, though patched up, still wore a torn jacket and had noticeable dirt along his brow. Seeking to spare him further indignity, she gently pulled at his good arm. “It's no use, Mulder”, she said, speaking softly and standing closer than necessary. “And no- I’m not intending we drive home, I’m saying let’s get a decent night's sleep and deal with this in the morning”.
He accepted, because of course she's being reasonable.
And because her eyes are so big and blue and wet.
They turned their attention back to Marianne to inquire about finding a hotel near the airport.
“They're pretty much all booked up around here due to the cancellations this evening. There should be a few options downtown, if you don’t mind spending a little more; I could call around if you like?”
“Please, and thank you very much”, Mulder offered with a heartfelt smile, by way of apology.
After they secured a car, they briefly bickered over who would drive- Mulder’s arm was still sore, but Scully was even more sleep deprived. She reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat, kicking off her shoes and folding her legs under herself to approximate some comfort. She really was exhausted.
Watching her drift he recalled dozing off the night before; his head nestled in her lap, her hands gently rubbing his bicep as she quietly hummed that Three Dog Night song.
A song he had never particularly liked until that moment; until he heard her singing it, drolly and off-tune.
Last night He had been too pained, too tired to pretend he hadn’t considered the…proximity. His face, her…*her*. So close. And something deeper- he felt cared for. She'd keep him safe because she's strong and brilliant and a hell of a good partner, but also because she cares about him. Would die for him. Loves him, even.
His thought was interrupted by a snore - and not a gentle or cute snore- but a quick and loud snort. This immediately elicited an equally loud chuckle from Mulder.
Scully woke with a start.
“Mulder, sorry I-”
Before she could finish her apology, he mercifully offered: “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I was… I was thinking of something funny”.
Scully settled and smiled. She could tell he was lying, and she appreciated the consideration. Off a luxurious yawn, she playfully challenged
“Oh? what's the story?”.
Mulder grinned, knowing full well the game they were playing. He scanned this edictic memory for a suitable yarn before beginning the Tale of the Mogoagogo River in beautiful British Columbia. He talked about finding some giant sasquatch footprint as she snoozed once again. Part of her wanted to point out that he probably found evidence of a black bear walking upright, or other large animals stepping into existing impressions. But she was too tired and she liked the sound of his voice.
She next woke about 20 minutes later to the sensation of gently pulling into a parking spot. “Where are we?” she asked, off a long yawn.
“We’re at the Hotel Carter in beautiful downtown Tallahassee" he shared, while stepping out of the car and grabbing their bags. Her breath caught when she realized he'd made his way to her side of the vehicle, opened the door, and offered his hand. He registered her puzzled expression and explained, “Just being a little courteous “. With that she extended her own hand and he pulled her up towards him- more quickly than she expected- like someone is pulling you out on the dancefloor. “Now come on,” he said, with a sweet gruffness, “You deserve a good night's sleep after you spent last night in a freezing forest taking care of my sorry ass”.
“While keeping watch for camouflaged monsters” she added with a sleepy grin.
Scully smiled as she considered how truly bizarre their lives were. And that while she'd lodged some honest concerns regarding their nice little trip to the forest, that she never really questioned being there with him. Nor of holding him through the night; not even of *singing* to him.
She followed him into the hotel with nothing in her hands and groggily watched him sort through the details with the clerk.
“I don’t understand, I was told” -
“Yes sir, but Marianne clearly said she had a couple in need of accommodations. So it's just the one available, I'm afraid-”
“We'll take it” Scully sharply interjected. She was suddenly clear-eyed and wide awake.
Mulder gave her a look of genuine surprise.
“We will?” He asked sincerely, looking her dead in the eye.
She held his gaze and waited a couple of beats before confidently declaring:
“Yes”.
While the clerk prepared their keys, Scully watched Mulder quietly squirm. Subtle enough, but evident. He rubbed his hands through his hair, his jaw hung open a few more degrees than normal; his feet shuffled out of any discernable rhythm. She couldn't deny that this excited her. She reasoned that he wouldn't be showing signs of stress if this didn't excite him a bit, too.
In truth, she desperately wanted to share a bed with him. She wanted to believe that something would happen between them in that bed, though she had her doubts. He had blown right past her playful bid to ‘consort’ just the other evening- more interested in finding an invisible man than discovering the depths of the woman in front of him, apparently.
Of course though she had noticed his staring. He invaded her personal space with abandon, made flirtatious jokes, and touched her more than she would tolerate from any other male colleague.
More than tolerated it…
And she also didn't doubt his unabiding loyalty and care for her. Love, even. He seemed to prefer the company of his own solitude to just about that of anyone else alive- except for hers.
But she wasn't convinced that he ever intended to act upon any real or potential attraction. Mulder was a creature of habit, and he had habitually put Scully in the intellectually-and-emotionally-charged, though-decidedly-platonic-soulmates” category. As messy as his desk might look, he seemed committed to keeping those files neat and tidy.
Cockroach who ate Cincinnati in the “C’s”. Mothman in the “M’s”.
Scully in the “Not in That Way’s”.
But he *was* squirming.