Work Text:
The crisp winter air breezes through the narrow alleys lined with small stalls selling Christmas decorations and crafts, food and drinks.
Scully takes it all in, the cozy red and white lights of the Christmas market reminding her of her childhood, of sitting on her father’s shoulder, and the taste of candied apples.
She glances over at Mulder, who looks like he’s just soaking up the atmosphere, but she knows better. They’re not here for fun. He touches the tiny earphone in his ear and nods, finding her eyes. The corner of his lip twitches, reassuring her.
“Let’s walk a bit,” he says, his hand finding its familiar place on the small of her back. They fall into step and slow down to fit in with the couples and the families. Scully watches them with a soft pang in her chest. But they should be working; this is neither the time nor place to lament her love life - or lack thereof.
“Skinner said we should blend in more,” Mulder murmurs into her hair, his voice almost drowned out by the cheery Christmas music blasting from various loudspeakers.
“So whatever I do,” Mulder says. “It’s for work.” His words make her shiver. She doesn’t have time to analyze her reaction because Mulder slips his arm around her waist, drawing her close. She gasps as his cold nose nuzzles her cheek, his stubble tickling her.
“Honey,” he says loudly. “How about some mulled wine?” Another nuzzle. “To warm us up?”
Speechless, Scully stares at him, dazed at how soft his eyes are, how warm. They draw her in and make her once again forget that they’re here to tail a suspect.
This is not a date, it’s just pretending. He said so himself. Everything he’s doing, the hand around her hip, squeezing her tight, the gentle expression on his face, it’s all make-believe.
“Play along, Scully,” he says, pressing his lips against her cheek.
“I’d love some mulled wine,” she says, finding her words. They get in line with Mulder hugging her from behind, and Scully leaning against his chest.
Her eyes remain on the passing people, still on the lookout for their suspect. Focusing on work is difficult when Mulder’s hands are on her, warm and insistent. Much like the sweet, spicy scent that’s wafting over to them, causing Scully to sigh.
“Tired, honey?” Mulder asks, his lips grazing her ear and making her feel hot all over.
“Maybe a little bit. We’ve been here a while. Can’t wait to get you home. But first I want mulled wine.”
“Everything for my love.”
This is way too easy. Scully giggles when Mulder squeezes her side and her head falls back against his shoulder as he kisses her temple. She needs to remember that this is a ruse. None of it means anything. It’s an act. Nothing more, nothing else.
Mulder pays for their mulled wine and Scully mouths a thank you when he hands one to her. They’re huddled close, pretending to only have eyes for each other. Mulder absent-mindedly strokes her back, taking sips from his cup.
She focuses on the faces passing by, but the hot wine, tasting sweet and spicy, distracts her. As does Mulder with his solid warmth and his plain Mulder-ness. They’re so close that Scully hears the crackle from his earpiece.
She can’t hear what Skinner is saying, can only guess from Mulder’s face. But he’s wearing a smile, turning to her. His hand comes up, warm from holding the mulled wine, cupping her cheek.
“No problem,” Mulder says and before she knows what is happening, Mulder leans down and kisses her. Her surprised gasp lands on his tongue as it gently seeks out hers. They kiss and kiss, tasting like cinnamon, anise, and six years of pent-up curiosity.
Too soon, though she can’t say how long it’s been, Mulder’s lips leave hers.
“Skinner said to blend in.” Mulder is breathless. “I couldn’t- I wanted to-”
“It’s okay, Mulder,” she says, putting her hand on his arm. “It was all just for work, wasn’t it?” She attempts to smile, but she’s still breathing hard, too, glaring at Mulder’s wet lips knowing they’ve just been on hers.
“Not… not exactly,” Mulder admits, but she can’t ask what he means because there’s Skinner, the other agents, and their suspect in handcuffs. The act is over.