Chapter Text
They took the late afternoon plane on Friday, a few hours after they’d said their goodbyes to each other at work. Most of her bag was already packed, but she had thrown in her last few necessities. She changed from her uncomfortable work clothes into a t-shirt and jeans - she wanted to rest on the plane. It was the weekend, after all, and there was nobody left to impress today, aside from Mulder. She scoffed at herself inwardly - she didn’t need to impress him. Not in... that way, at least. No, with Mulder it was different. Their trust ran deeper than the one she had felt for anyone else outside of her family. He was her best friend; he had seen her at her most uncomposed countless times.
Brushing the thoughts of Mulder aside, she glanced at her watch and realized she was running short on time. She performed a quick idiot check on her bag before touching up her lipstick and glancing outside, noticing his car. She lived close to the airport, and it was a bonus to save up on the astronomical parking fees there, especially when the Bureau wasn’t footing the bill.
“You ready?” Mulder smiled at her, watching as she arranged her bag and coat on the backseat. “Guess so,” she replied casually, stretching her arms and shoulders. Her mountains of paperwork had left her with little time to relax after two consecutive eight hour days behind a desk, and her joints felt as stiff as cement. She’d take field work over paperwork any day. Scary and dangerous as it was, and as frustrating as Mulder passionately explaining himself to her could be, at least she got to run around and move her limbs instead of being stuck in a cramped little room.
Alternative rock blared from the car radio’s tinny old speakers as they drove. “You should fix your car radio,” she said, wrinkling her nose and looking over at him. He was concentrating on the road, but his outfit was casual - jeans and a dark grey crew neck, exposed by his open bomber jacket. It was just tight enough to remind her how much of a gym rat he was outside office hours.
“Why, Scully?” he said, playfully, not taking his eyes off the stretch of road. “I can still understand everything perfectly.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah, I could tell you every song that they’re playing. Like this, for example,” He nodded at the radio, keeping his hands on the wheel, “Motorway to Roswell by Pixies. 1991 - a favourite.”
“Roswell, huh?” she chuckled. “I can imagine that that must be a favourite of yours.”
“Someone knows her way around America’s extraterrestrial history, I see,” he grinned.
“Shut up, Mulder.” She looked out the window, hiding her smile. “I work with you, that’s all.”
Nerves washed over her as they made their way through the busy airport proceedings, and as much as she tried to blame it on the chilly April afternoon, she knew the truth. She hadn’t seen any of the wedding guests in years, and had lost contact with most of them. She’d accepted the invitation from the anxiety she felt at still being unmarried at thirty - not that there was anything wrong with that. She invited Mulder as her plus-one, and he agreed.
“I’m coming with a friend,” she’d told Dorothy over the phone.
Her schoolmate made a little noise of curiosity. “Male or female?”
Scully had bristled at the question. She didn’t know if the people she’d shared highschool with knew about her bisexuality, but that wasn’t what bothered her. It was… some other feeling, one that was hard to pinpoint. Or think about.
“Hey, Scully. Got the tickets?” Mulder’s voice brought her back to the tranquil chaos of the airport.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Wait.” She squatted down to their luggage and fished out two pieces of paper, handing the one marked MULDER, FOX W. to him.
“Window seat,” he said with a smile. “Thank you, Scully”
“We can swap if you want to,” she replied casually. “I just thought with a little bit of extra space, you’d have more room for your…” She gestured vaguely at his legs while making a grimace.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” he replied playfully, leaning closer to her. “Do you not like my strong, manly legs? Or do you just need to compensate for your own height? Don’t feel bad about that, Scully - not everyone can be blessed by nature.”
She chuckled and swiped him with her ticket. “Careful, or you’ll be more than glad to be blessed by nature.”
The problem was, he wasn’t even wrong. For all his geekiness, Mulder had hit the genetic lottery. His seemingly effortless athletic physique, his thick dark hair, the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, the colour of his eyes that she had debated during more lonely nights than she’d like to admit, and that she noticed sparkled when he looked at her lately… yes, blessed by nature was correct.