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She’s heard it. A tapping sound on the glass.
If she’s heard it, then he’s heard it, too.
Mulder has a sharper sense of hearing than anyone she knows, which is funny, Scully notes with tiny bitterness. This man will always roll his eyes when she speaks of ideal headphone volumes, but he has better hearing than someone who’s never abused her ears, not even once in her lifetime.
He has been asked, more than once, by flight attendants to turn down the music of his Walkman because the gentleman in the nearby aisle has raised a concern.
“Raised a concern, my ass,” he would lean over and whisper in her ear, his hot breath making her ear itch, her heart missing its beat delightfully.
He claims that he can’t feel the beat unless the volume on his Walkman is over 23 (the highest possible number on the dial is 25). Scully has always worried that he’s trying to deafen himself.
Mulder doesn’t listen, and she hopes he’ll never become hard of hearing in his old age. She nags him about the volume.
“Scully,” he would whine, “the nice folks down at Sony wouldn’t make devices to hurt the consumers’ ears. It’s career suicide.”
She wonders why she even bothers.
Good thing he’s never rubbed it in her face that he can hear better than she does.
Another sound comes on, and Mulder shifts beside her.
“Honey, I’m gonna...” He makes a gesture toward the door as he whispers.
She sighs a little, not wanting his warmth to leave her yet. So, she grabs onto him with both hands and kisses his neck.
“Hey,” his voice is happy, and his expression too, but he hasn’t changed his mind. “I just wanna make sure that sound is nothing.”
“That sound is nothing, Mulder. It’s probably that cat you’ve been feeding demanding more tuna from her gentle giant.” She mumbles as her lips are pressed on his jaw.
“You know about me and the cat?” He sounds surprised.
“Everyone knows about you and the cat. My mother knows about you feeding a cat that visits the yard. I’ll not be surprised if she wants to talk to you about trapping it and making sure it won’t be having babies in our backyard.”
He completely ignores her comments and carries on, “You know, I named it Kat.”
Scully kisses him.
“It’s named after you.” Mulder kisses her nose. “Meow.”
She giggles, and he chuckles, too. “How’d you know about the cat?”
“I know about everything you do, Mulder.”
He smiles at her and pushes himself up from the sofa. “Well, then you know that I gotta go and check out that sound.”
“Fine.” She gives in, “Hurry back.”
Scully watches him as he goes around the study to make sure all the windows are closed and locked. When he steps out of the door, she watches him with her mind’s eyes and traces his steps. The front door first. Next, the windows by the living rooms, followed by their door to the yard, then the lights, the phone, and the appliances. He should be back right about now. If he’s not back in another minute...
“You’re right,” Mulder pads into the room, “it’s Kat with the K. I think she wants to check and make sure everything’s okay with her friends.”
She extends an arm out to him, inviting him to resume what they had been doing earlier.
“Why don’t I move this party to the bed?” He grins, “since I’m already... up and standing.”
Scully looks at him coyly. Sure, why not, she thinks. She would never admit to him that she likes being carried by him from time to time.
He sweeps her up in his arms and leaves the thin sheet on the sofa. It’s not cold at all tonight anyways.
Scully caresses his shoulder blades with butterfly fingertips. “You have good hearing,” she says, “despite all that rock ‘n’ roll.”
“It’s a gift,” he charms.
“I thought it’s the attributes of a fox.” Scully comments. “Along with being agile, being quick on its feet, and being very sexy.”
Mulder makes a sound between a growl and a purr, which just tickles her so much. In his arm, Scully sighs, feeling happy about not having masking tape X’s on the window, no bugged phone or pen or secret camera, and being very, very far away from the darkness that once followed them wherever they went.