This takes place after 7x5 Rush. Again, this story deals with the inbetween: the hidden moments that unfold amongst and in keeping with the episodes of series 7.
Apologies for the delay too!
They're riding back in the car to their motel and she can feel his body ache with diaspora.
His gaze is distant and his lips are fuller than usual: an unhappy pout colouring his picture.
She smiles warmly to herself at his insecure self-pity. She knows this case with time-defying teenagers in Pittsfield has made him feel old. That he is blind to the masculine stature and charisma time has gifted him with: that his growing number of days only fine-tunes him.
They pull up to the motel.
They need to check out.
He switches off the engine and sits there for a moment with a heavy exhale.
Resting her head in its rest, Scully looks at him with kind and knowing eyes.
There is a pause he doesn't hear.
He chews against his lower lip, eyes unfocussed and thoughts elusive.
Quietly, she leans forwards and lightly pulls at his jaw to bring his swollen mouth to her own.
Warm open kisses emanate from her ruby buds.
An almost silent and short moan escapes him, taken aback by the gesture, but desperately appreciative.
It takes him a moment, but Mulder slips his hand up Scully's neck, coming to cradle her head in his large open palm. He teases the copper strands between his finger as their mouths malleably respond to each other's passion.
She languishes in the sensation of the hot tip of his tongue seducing her own. He pulls her nearer to him and she feels their control, their propriety, slipping from them. His blue shirt sleeves are rolled up, exposing his firm and hot forearms. They brush against her own now. Warmth spreads through her like hot milk. She fights with herself. The urge to pass control, allow her head to tilt back and expose her neck to him is almost intoxicating. Lapses like this are rare for her. Perhaps that's why each stroke and brush he administers feels so hallowed. Valued and valable.
Allowing herself only a few more moments, she closes their kiss quickly.
Her motions are neat and unexpected. She continually surprises him.
Their frames mirrored, the partners are bent towards each other. She becomes aware of the deep and sensual linger of his aftershave. It covers her like a gauze. She wears it like jewellery.
His hand rests at her neck. Hers, just above his heart. He eyes her mouth. She studies his face. Her head is tilted studiously: a happy tinge has stained her lips.
Mulder catches her hand as she lowers it, placing one - two - kisses to her knuckles. His gaze emits a hidden glow of adoration and appreciation for her easy understanding of his complex character. His rare moment of self-doubt is forgotten immediately.
He watches her eyes cool as they trace his mouth on her skin. He releases the petite curve of her wrist, knowing it's what she wants.
Before him, Scully transforms back into his colleague. She leans back into her seat and looks ahead non-committally.
"Your turn, Mulder," she prompts.
There is beat as he leans back into his own seat. He relinquishes her willingly.
Back to his higher self, Mulder pulls at the handle and exits the car. He moves now towards to the motel office. His gait is strong and steady- masculine and commanding, as it has always been.
Scully turns to looks out the passenger window. Her focus shifts to nearby holly bushes as they sway in the light breeze that has filled the courtyard.
Mulder does not look back as he walks.
Behind him is a time capsule that is quietly burying itself.
They will not speak again.
Not during the drive back to DC.
Nor when he drops her at her car at the FBI lot.
Not until they see each other Monday morning, freshened, collared and to anybody who may be watching, perfectly stoic.