Her eyes open to him, his bed, his room. It comes back to her in the space of a breath—in, and out—and she fights the urge to flee, even if her heart is well past the point of protection.
Before she can make up her mind, she finds herself staring into gold-flecked hazel. They watch each other, suspended in the moment, neither willing to break the silence.
"Hi," she says finally, a note above a whisper.
His lip curls slightly in a smirk, but his eyes shine with disbelief. "You're here."
"You thought I wouldn't be?"
"I hoped…I hoped I wasn't dreaming," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep, a sweet gravely timbre that resonates deep in her chest.
"Maybe you are," she teases, rolling toward him. The heat of his skin against her arm brings back vivid memories of his shadow moving over her, his mouth trailing hot kisses down her throat, and she wonders how she could ever have considered leaving.
"My dreams usually aren't this, uh, chaste."
"I believe it," she says. He smells earthy, raw, and the way he watches her every move lights a slow-burning fire low in her abdomen. Pure wonder, the stars of heaven wrapped up in his eyes, and all for her.
"I think that's a first, Scully."
"What?"
"You…believing what I say without me having to drag you to the ends of the Earth for proof. I think my charms are finally working on you."
She licks her lips, and the expression on his face at the sight of her tongue is more than enough of a comeback.
She scoots closer, pressing her forehead to the center of his chest until the soft hairs there tickle her nose and the sweet, woodsy scent of yesterday's aftershave surrounds her.
"We need to be careful," she sighs, drawing patterns on his bicep with her fingertips. "They'll use this against us."
"What else is new?" he says, spoken to the crown of her head.
She snorts in agreement, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. "Mulder—"
"Scully," he interrupts, taking a deep breath. "I think I know what you're going to say, but hear me out. I feel like we've been heading in this direction for a long time. There have always been risks, but…I don't want them to have that kind of power over us."
He clears his throat before continuing more softly. "They knew what you meant to me long before now; sometimes I think they knew before I did. If they shut us down again, so be it. I can live without the X-Files, but I can't live without you, and if I have to choose…it's you, Scully. It's always you."
She blinks, dumbfounded at this unexpected declaration. His heartbeat becomes a deafening roar in her ear as the seconds tick past, as she struggles to respond, as the silence becomes an uncomfortable pause.
"Don't leave me hanging, Scully," he says finally, and the desperation in his voice brings her back. She forces the words out, lets them stumble off her tongue.
"I…was going to ask about taking a shower. I have a brunch date with my mother, and I don't have time to go back to my place."
"You…oh," he blanches. "Oh."
She tips her head up to brave a look at him, stifling a giggle, but she can't keep it in. It bubbles up, seven years of tension and struggle and fight, and she can't hold back a simple laugh.
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, covering his face with his hands, but he's smiling, the faintest brush of a grin. She reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand in a wordless apology, marveling at the way his skin feels soft and rough at the same time; a partnership of opposites, that's what they've always been.
"Mulder," she sighs, gently pulling his hands apart, guiding his face to hers. He resists the kiss for a second before letting their lips meld, slow and warm, like honey. Her throat tightens, cutting off a last, errant giggle.
"I know," she whispers against him, their secrets tucked between them. "I know."