A/N: First X- Files fanfic, let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I'm not putting one up. Actually, I double dare Chris Carter to track me down with nothing but an email; maybe I can get an autograph that way.
Dedication: awesomepossum! For putting up with me even when I keep her up late to watch David Duchovny with me
She showed up at his front door, unannounced and unplanned. She knew it would be fine; on some level, he was expecting this visit.
"Hey," He greeted, taking her in. Raindrops glistened in her hair, against her dark trench coat. She looked smaller, somehow, than she had before. Perhaps he was just getting used to his own height again; getting used to his own body. It could be that she just wasn't all that intimidating when she wasn't protecting him.
"Hey," she returned, speaking softly, almost shy.
Without a word, he led her into his apartment. Standing among his things, she stood silently, barely in his apartment, unspoken words weighing heavily on her shoulders. The fear of losing him still seemed to outweigh the relief of getting him back safely.
He knew why she was here. He would be at her apartment now, had the tables been turned. "It is me, Scully." He assured.
She looked up at him then, taking in the familiar face which had, just hours ago, provided no comfort.
"I guess I was just double checking," she half laughed at herself, but it held no mirth, falling flat. "I guess you'll want to catch some rest," she said, by way of parting. They never said goodbye, ever. Goodbyes meant you weren't a constant, weren't always there. She turned to leave when he grabbed her hand, trapping it in between his two larger ones. She turned back at him, a little startled at the sudden contact.
"I promise it's me." He said, knowing she still felt uneasy. He grabbed her for a quick hug; he needed her to feel him, to be able to tell who he was. He noted absently that the rain on her coat was seeping through his thin shirt, that she was clutching him just as tightly as he was holding her.
He took a step back, wondering if Fletcher had done the same under false pretences, if she had been able to tell by the way Fletcher held her that he wasn't Mulder. Her hands stayed on his arms, and the contact warmed his bare arms, radiated through him. Never meeting his eyes, Scully reached up and kissed his jaw; above and to the right of his chin. He pondered whether she just couldn't muster the extra inch of height it would take to reach his lips, but quickly decided against it. Her soft lips only touched his skin for a second or two, quiet and unassuming. He understood that she was trying to let him know, in her own reserved way, how scared she had been.
Scully stood very still, avoiding his eyes with a blush creeping up her neck, her freckles standing out more than normal. He tried to remember how it felt to look at her through Fletcher's eyes; tried to remember the vivid red of her hair.
He smiled at her. Without makeup or four inch heels, hair decidedly undone, Scully had never looked more beautiful to him. For a split second, Mulder was torn as to move slowly, as one might with an easily frightened animal, or to move quickly enough to distract her from her self- imposed boundaries.
In the end, she decided for him. Small hands gently held either side of his face, his head drawn towards hers in between pink fingernails. She paused, licking her lips, an unconscious habit, and any reserve he had was drained. Their lips met once, twice; vying for control, trying to comfort and reassure. Briefly, he rested his forehead against hers.
"I missed you," she whispered, her breath hot against his mouth.
"Me too," He agreed, one callused hand stroking her cheek.
"Don't do that again, okay?" she asked, as if body swapping incidents were as controllable as office hours.
His lips brushed against hers, his words sealed with a kiss. "Nice homecoming, though".
She smirked, like he knew she would, and continued to show him the joys of his own body- and hers.