It felt unreal when they'd made the plans earlier, and he was still in disbelief as he stood in front of Scully's door. He was pretty certain he hadn't been this nervous about taking a girl out since he was a teenager.
He was about to take Dana Scully, his partner, out on a date.
Mulder tried mustering up some confidence as he raised his fist to knock at the door, but it didn't stop his heart from beating faster as he heard the sound of feet shuffling on the other side. He listened to her struggle with the new sets of locks on her door before it swung open to reveal a very disgruntled Scully wearing a tightly-wrapped bathrobe and a frown.
"I'm sorry. Did I come too early?" he apologized.
"Uh, no," she answered, taking a step back to let him in. "I just can't decide what to wear." She chuffed a humorless laugh while closing the door behind him.
Scully looked frazzled, but even so, she looked beautiful. Her makeup was just a smidge heavier than what she'd worn to work, really emphasizing the various hues of her eyes. Her hair was also not too different from this morning, but he could tell she'd sprayed it back since she didn't have tendrils falling in her face. When they were separated, before the abduction, she'd cut her bangs really short. She was starting to grow them out now. Her hair was longer when she was returned, thick and fluffy at the ends. He could tell she wasn't quite sure how to style its new length yet. Scully was primping more than she used to, and he suspected that she was a bit insecure, despite how unnecessary that was.
However, regardless of being all made up, he had a strong inkling she wasn't going for terry cloth chic for a first date.
"I think wearing that would work as a statement piece," Mulder joked, touching the soft edge of her bathrobe.
Scully rolled her eyes, but didn't try hiding her indulgent smirk. "I'm not sure it's a statement I'd want to make on the first date."
She started walking down a hallway that he was pretty sure led to her bedroom. He'd only been to her apartment a few times, and his experiences were limited to the living room area and the bathroom. Clasping his hands together, he started to glance around the room to find something to preoccupy his time but was interrupted by the sound of Scully calling for him.
"Are you coming?"
Mulder didn't need to be asked twice. He eagerly trailed in her steps, trying to take in every detail he could so he could pull up a mental-rendering of her apartment later and examine all these little facets. Even though she'd invited him to follow, he felt his feet grow heavy with resistance as he crossed the threshold of her room. It felt like forbidden territory, like he was intruding on her sanctuary. He couldn't remember when he'd last been invited into a woman's bedroom quarters under the pretense of anything other than sex.
Not really knowing what to do with himself while she floated from one end of the room to the other, he gently eased himself down and took a seat on the edge of her bed, surprised at the difference between the soft give of her mattress compared to his leather sofa. Scully was preoccupied with putting a few things away, and he realized the room looked like the Tasmanian Devil had torn through.
While he'd never been in her room before, he knew Scully well enough to know this was out of character. Had it gotten this way from her trying to get ready for this date? Even though this was just a practice date between two friends, he had to suppress a smile at the notion she was nervous about how she'd look around him. The smile faded as his thoughts turned to another possibility. Or was she nervous because she thought he'd be critical of her?
He glanced up and followed Scully's frantic form fluttering around, taking note that she was the messy marsupial in question. Even though she didn't look that much different from when they parted ways earlier, he didn't know much about the world of hair and makeup. Maybe the slight difference he perceived in her makeup was a French technique that took her two hours to complete. Should he have complimented her makeup when he came in? Shit. What about her hair? Now that he thought about it, it did look a bit more wavy than before, and she kept fussing with the unruly strands curling around her ears. He took a deep breath and realized there was a faint odor of burnt hair in the air.
Mulder's anxiety started mounting, and before he could give it more thought, he blurted, "You look great!"
Scully paused in her tracks, her hands full of different tubes and makeup bags she was in the process of putting away. She regarded him curiously with a raised brow. "I'm wearing a robe, Mulder. I know you said it's been a while for you too, but surely your standards haven't sunk that low?"
He chuffed in chagrin and scratched the fine hairs at the base of his neck. "I mean, uh, your makeup. It makes your eyes look a lot blue-er. And your hair," he felt the weight of her gaze as he tried to put words to what exactly looked different. "It's more-" he explained, bringing his hands to the sides of his face and wiggling his fingers to simulate the waves.
Mulder let out a low exhale of relief when she smiled, looking genuinely flattered. "Thank you, Mulder."
He smiled back and continued his observation of a wild Scully in her natural habitat. Scully's room was soft and eclectic. He wasn't sure what he imagined, likely because he sequestered 'Scully' and 'intimacy' to different areas of his brain, but this was fitting. A lot of the furniture was worn and loved, the tan carpet was soft under his feet as he wandered, and he could see little flecks of her personality sprinkled throughout the room.
While he was trying to pick out books he recognized on her bookshelf, she passed by him and he caught a glimpse of red at the back of her neck, prompting him to ask, "Are you already wearing something underneath the robe?"
His interest piqued as her blush deepened. "Oh, Missy-Melissa, my sister, she tried to convince me to wear this when we were on the phone earlier."
Mulder wasn't sure if Scully knew how much time he spent with her mother and sister while she was in the hospital. He tried imagining what someone like Melissa would pick out for someone like Scully. What would Stevie Nicks choose for Marie Curie? He drew a blank.
"What's wrong with it?"
She released her bottom lip from in between her teeth and looked down at her feet. She was a visage of self-doubt and it perturbed him to see such self-conciousness emanating from Scully. "Promise you won't laugh?" she murmured with a playful inflection that didn't quite reach her eyes.
His mouth quirked into a frown at the idea she thought he'd make fun of how she looked. "I promise, Scully," he answered sincerely.
Scully met his eyes and he saw her walls of defense start to soften. Pulling at the sash, Scully let the robe gracefully fall down her shoulders before tossing the white cotton onto the bed. She was in a floor-length, ruby dress that had a halter-top style that left her arms and shoulders bare.
There was an awkward pause as Scully waited with bated breath for a response while Mulder tried his damnedest to figure out what she thought he'd be laughing at.
"I don't think it's really flattering on me," she supplemented anxiously while he took her in.
He could not have disagreed more. The thin fabric accentuated her figure and complemented her milky skin, which he was seeing a lot more of than he was used to. His eyes were drawn to her chest as she pulled at the bustline, which was a deeper cut than he'd ever seen her wear. Her shoulders were slightly concave as if she were trying to hide — like she was trying to make herself disappear into the dress.
"I think you look really lovely, Scully," he answered honestly.
"I think my body's changed a bit since I bought it in the summer," she murmured, tugging at the fabric self-consciously. He felt bad if it was his attention on her that was making her feel insecure right now, but he truly thought she looked great. Her comment about her body changing caused alarm bells to ring in his head. Weight fluctuations and changes to her body. His tongue burned with curiosity, but he knew it wasn't the time.
"Well, I can promise from an outsider's perspective that you look great, but I know that feeling uncomfortable is the last thing anyone wants on a date," he explained.
"Thanks," she said softly. Mulder selfishly hoped that he was the reason for the shy smile on her lips, and he couldn't help but mirror it back.
"What did you wear on your last date?" he questioned, looking around the room at the various articles strewn around.
She turned towards her closet, grabbed a familiar pair of black slacks before sliding all her hangers along the metal rod until she could reach the very end of her closet space. "An outfit for special occasions?" he teased.
"An outfit that needs to go into the donation pile," she replied, pulling out a tablecloth.
Or… what he thought was a tablecloth.
"My friend, Ellen, tried to set me up with one of the divorced fathers of my godson's friends. I wore this shirt tucked into these pants with my hair done up." She placed the items in front of her so he could picture it and all he could think of was that the shirt looked like a doily.
"He said it looked like a doily," she stated with a grimace.
Mulder shot her a look of incredulous surprise and exclaimed, "He said that?"
"Yeah, in retrospect maybe it wasn't my best fashion moment," she huffed.
He caught a glimpse of the light through the fabric and it caused him to lean forward. "Is it see-through?"
"The top is," she answered, holding it up more so that the overhead light shined through. "I wore a tank top under it for modesty."
"That sounds pretty," he replied with a thoughtful nod.
Scully chuckled and he looked at her curiously. "You can say you don't like it, Mulder. You're not going to hurt my feelings."
"It does look like a doily," he admitted, relieved when she laughed. "But I've never been known for my passion for fashion."
"I still appreciate your opinion nonetheless," she affirmed. He watched as she put the hangers back in the closet while she shifted things around, the metal rod scraping with each movement. He wasn't sure how long he was watching her angular shoulder blades shift under her freckled skin, but it was long enough for him to realize he'd missed something she'd said.
"What was that?" he asked, removing his eyes from her exposed skin.
"Can you choose something? Give me some insight into the male perspective?" she requested coyly.
"Whatever you feel good in," he answered without even looking. "Even if it's something you wear to work. Whatever is comfortable and makes you feel confident. You'll look good in anything."
She did that thing again where she bent her head down to hide her smile from him. It was just a little action, but it made his chest feel tight.
She shyly murmured her appreciation and, wanting to make sure he was helping her and that she wouldn't regret asking, he offered: "I, um, I think that greens really bring out your hair and complement your skin. Blues make your eyes pop. And black is always a great option… classy."
She was relaxed now and any previous anxiety he had started to dissipate. "Thank you, Mulder." Scully turned to her closet and pulled out a few items before heading to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Feel free to look around if you'd like."
That was all the permission he needed. Mulder stood up and made his way around the room, fascinated by all the little knick-knacks and mementos that she chose to surround herself with. Scully's plants were a little worse for wear, some browned around the edges with missing leaves, but they were recovering right alongside her.
He took the opportunity to lean closer to the mirror above her dresser and run a hand through the fluffy mess atop his head, when a small photo tucked behind a flower pot caught his eye.
Mulder plucked the 4x6 glossy from its hiding spot and blinked down at the image before him. It was him and Scully in her hospital room not long after she'd been returned. She was wearing her cross necklace he'd saved for her and his VHS he'd given her as a gag gift was resting on the table next to her. She was so pale yet the way she was looking up at him with such adoration had painted the apples of her cheeks a rosy pink. His chest ached at the sight, but he couldn't look away. His back was to the camera as he perched awkwardly at the foot of her bed, his jeans standing out like a sore thumb against the bleached hospital bedding. He remembers how tenderly he'd touched her that day, somehow afraid to leave another mark she didn't deserve, but the fierce way she had gripped his hand like she never wanted to let go has crept its way into his dreams ever since.
"Ready?" Scully's voice called from behind him.
Mulder jumped, quickly slipping the photo back behind the plant where he'd found it.
He spun around and saw Scully in a flattering black turtleneck tucked into a slim black skirt. "Very sleek," he praised, giving her an approving smile. A hint of recognition dawned on him and he asked, "Is that the shirt you wore when we searched for those missing loggers in the forest?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him and chuckled, "Uh, yeah. I think it is. I'm surprised you remember it."
"Maybe it wasn't the shirt I remembered as much as that adorable jacket you wore on top of it," he teased, his hand itching to palm the curve of her lower back.
"What a coincidence, I was considering wearing that instead," she joked, balancing on one foot at a time while slipping on a pair of black heels.
He smiled at their easy rapport before taking a few steps towards her and offering her his arm. He hadn't used any of his Martha's Vineyard etiquette training since he learned it, but he figured maybe his awkward, teenage self had been preparing for this very evening. She glanced down at his gesture with a glint of surprise in her expression that melted into appreciation.
Her warm palm slid around his elbow as she smiled at him. "Ready?"