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The Umbrella Prompts

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The sound of the rain hitting the fabric drum of the umbrella above them made the space under it seem cloistered and insular.  A small pocket of humid seclusion amongst the airport sounds of taxiing airplanes and safe-travel goodbyes.

The rain was hitting the sidewalk beneath them and jumping back up to splash her shoes, the lower half of her panty hose already a soaking mess. She stepped closer to him--as close as she could, propriety be damned. She wished she hadn’t worn a skirt.

The taxi line was at least ten people long, most of them standing with their shoulders bunched up miserably around their ears, unprepared for the weather. Mulder always kept a small compact umbrella tucked into his suitcase, so they were at least marginally more comfortable than their soaked compatriots.

Mulder wrapped his free hand lightly around her back when she stepped into him, and she got a whiff of his cologne. The air around them smelled of the urban tang of cold rain on hot pavement, a hint of petrichor underlying all. She closed her eyes and took it in.

She felt his thumb start to absently stroke her back, a slow rhythm of comfort. She looked up to give him a small smile and found his face closer than she expected, his head hunched down under the umbrella to better cover her. His breath fanned her face, his eyes lazy and smiling.

She’d worn her highest heels, so it was only a matter of inches between her lips and his. Before she could put together a coherent thought, their lips were pressed together, a feathery light brush just this side of a friendly buss. If she’d chosen to, she could have pulled back and chalked it up to such, headed into work the next day with nary an awkward look. If she’d chosen to.

Instead she lifted up ever so slightly onto her toes and pushed into the supple pillows of her partners lips, earning her a surprised inhale. Almost instantly the hand on her back was pressing insistently, pulling her closer.

One kiss, two, three, each with a little more pressure, held a little longer. Then, in a rush, the rain came down harder, slashing through the atmosphere, charging the air. She felt the tip of his tongue and met it with her own, the moment taking on a sudden intensity.

She felt the rip of lust, felt her heart start pounding, could feel the answering echo of Mulder’s own. His breath hitched as the kiss deepened and she smiled into his mouth, feeling wanted, powerful.

She was curling her fingers through Mulder’s lapel when she heard a discreet clearing of a throat from behind her, and she pulled back, Mulder leaning down as she moved, his face chasing hers as if magnetized.

The taxi line had moved on without them, the businessman behind them smiling a knowing grin while they noticed their surroundings and shuffled forward.

She was pleased but embarrassed, and stood, eyes facing forward, leaning back into him companionably. Finally they were at the front of the line, and as a cab pulled up, tires squelching in front of the wet curb, Mulder leaned down and whispered into her ear “this one’s yours.”

He held the umbrella over her as she unfolded herself into the back of the cab, and as the door closed, she caught his eye through the streaked window, caught his cat-like look, his small satisfied smirk. He held her gaze as the sedan pulled away, as she smiled her way home.