"You like The Eagles, right?", Scully quips, as she stands with her back to her husband, gently stirring a steaming pan of chicken and mixed vegetables. Mulder sits at the wooden dining table, nose deep in the latest Dean Koontz novel. He pauses, thoroughly considering the question.
"Well you can't deny their artistry, Scully", he replies matter-of-factly, "The harmony is spot on, the music is absolutely top notch; they're a little too soft rock for me at times. DON HENLY though – what guy can shred a drum kit while singing and make it look so cool?", he questions sincerely, rotating in his chair to face the stove.
"What about Fleetwood Mac?", she responds casually.
He shrugs before continuing; "Similar argument here. I mean, how often do you get THREE incredible vocalists in one group? McVie's bass lines are killer. Sometimes they leaned a little toward the folk sound, and like I said before, a little softer than I like my rock. But you can't dispute the talent; and what decent man hasn't had at least one or two wet dreams about Stevie Nicks?", he adds, with a childish grin.
"Or decent woman", she mutters incoherently to herself.
"What?" he probes, leaning closer to her.
"Oh nothing. So – Don Henley and Stevie Nicks are the fundamental members to you?", she tries to get the conversation back on track. There is a point to this, and damn it, she'll make sure they get there.
"Well that's putting it way too simply, Scully", he retorts.
"The Eagles wouldn't be The Eagles without Glenn, may he rest in peace" he adds, gesturing to the cross Scully insisted on hanging on the wall. "And Fleetwood Mac", he continues, "relies on the vocals of Lindsey Buckingham and Christine McVie equally. Actually, I've often thought Christine is kind of an unsung hero..."
"Ok Mulder", she quickly interrupts, afraid this will dissolve into one of Mulder's all too frequent tirades about classic rock and the band members no one except him, evidently, gives due credit.
She holds a finger up in Mulder's general direction, an unspoken plea for him to pause his ramblings. She places a lid on the pan and turns off the stove burner with an audible click, moving swiftly across the room to the small Bose speaker. A voice alerts them the device is now connected to Dana Scully's phone and she moves toward Mulder, fiddling with her phone as she walks. She comes to a halt just in front of him; she taps an option on her phone before leaning temptingly over him to rest the device on the table.
A familiar sound begins to echo through the house.
Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow
Shatter with words impossible to follow
"Dance with me, Mulder", she asks, stepping even closer to him.
He stands up swiftly and moves to wrap his arms snugly around her waist. Scully drapes her hands comfortably over his shoulders, her thumbs reflexively massaging his neck. She allows him to set the tempo of their gentle sway across the hardwood floor.
"So", he whispers into her hair, "Who's taking whose leather?" She lets out a soft laugh, pressing her forehead to his chest, breathing in the light scent of his colon, mostly faded from the day's activities.
"Well last I checked, you don't have any lace hanging around", she responds with a small smirk. He laughs in reply, before allowing them to fall back into a comfortable silence as the song continues.
First time I saw you
I knew with you to light my nights
Somehow I would get by
"You know", he began, "there's really nothing wrong a good soft rock ballad every once in a while"
Scully lifts her head from its position against Mulder's chest, meeting her lips with his own. The song fades out gently and the room is filled with complete silence, but neither seem to care. An alarm begins to ring out from the speaker, alerting them dinner was done. Scully is more than happy to ignore it, but Mulder can't be stopped. Breaking the kiss, he bounds to the table, shutting off the alarm. Scully remains in the middle of the room, somewhat in a state of dismay as to how fast the romantic moment has ended.
"Now," Mulder says, reaching into the cabinet and retrieving two plates, "back to my argument for Christine McVie"
Scully slinks her way into a chair, allowing her head to meet the table with a resounding "thunk". The sound of a plate sliding across the table encourages her to lift her head. Mulder tucks a stray grouping of auburn hair behind her ear.
"Sorry", he says earnestly, "I'm done, I promise" He brings his own plate over and sits down across from her.
She takes a bite from her plate, and smiles at him, "No you're not. But it's ok – I've learned to live with it"
Dinner proceeds just as Scully anticipated, though not exactly how she had hoped. Mulder tried, he really did. They made what most would consider "normal" conversation for approximately 5 minutes. Unfortunately, this soon morphed into Mulder trying to explain how Keith Moon's death was part of a curse on the apartment he was staying in. A far cry from the romantic dinner Scully had wanted, but not terribly unexpected.
The plates were dripping dry on the dish rack as Scully wiped the last remnants of dinner off the table. The familiar female voice rang through the house, alerting her Fox Mulder's phone was now connected to the small speaker. A recognizable guitar chord began to play out, and Scully felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She smiled.
When you look into my eyes
And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul
It always comes as a surprise
When I feel my withered roots begin to grow
Mulder moved her hair aside to place a gentle kiss on her neck. She let out a deep sigh, leaning back into his touch.
"I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to get along with", he utters quietly. She turns around to face him, smiling softly.
"It's a tough job" she remarks, "But someone's got to do it" He cups her face gently in his hand, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Reaching down, he secures his hands behind her thighs and lifts her up into a sitting position on the counter. She crosses her ankles loosely behind him and leans into his hold, deepening the kiss.
Suddenly, another familiar voice is heard. From the monitor on the counter, the soft babblings of Samantha can be heard. They both smile at the sound, a reminder of the 6-month-old daughter they share, content in her crib.
"I should probably go check on her", Scully whispers into Mulder's neck, placing a kiss behind his ear as she shuffles to get down. However, his grip doesn't waver, and she looks at him, confused.
"Later" is all he says, before backing away from the counter, taking her with him. As he carries her up the stairs, the song comes to its end.
You're my castle, you're my cabin and my instant pleasure dome
I need you in my house 'cause you're my home