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They walk off set, hand in hand, without a single care in the world. With every step away from the movie theater, Mulder feels lighter. Scully smiles to herself, taking in the lights, the noise, everything L.A. has to offer. Mulder doesn’t care for any of it. His eyes are on Scully. She is all he wants to look at, all he needs to see.
“Where are we going?” she asks him, and he grins at her.
“I have an idea.”
They get overpriced hot dogs and Diet Cokes – Mulder briefly considers putting it on the FBI’s credit card Skinner gave them, then thinks better of it – before heading for the beach. Scully’s happiness radiates off her when the water comes into view, glistening in the darkness. He knows how much she loves the ocean.
Mulder holds her hand as she slips out of her shoes. Grinning at him, she lets the waves lick at her toes. Hot dogs in hand, Mulder drops into the sand, waiting for her. When she joins him, she smells like salt, like happiness, like love. They clink their cans of Diet Coke and dig into their hot dogs.
“Not as good as in New York,” Mulder says halfway through.
“Hmmm.” Either Scully doesn’t agree, or she’s too hungry to care. She finishes her hot dog before he does, licking her fingers.
“I’m getting hungry for dessert, watching you.” Without looking at him, she smiles, the corner of her mouth ticking up as she leans into his side and draws her legs close. As soon as Mulder is done eating, he slips an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him,
“You know, Vegas isn’t far from here,” he says, his eyes on the ocean.
“L.A. not enough for you?” she asks, sounding dreamy.
“L.A. is more than enough for me, but you know what people do in Vegas.”
“Lose all their money?” She’s not catching on. Or maybe she doesn’t want to understand what he’s saying. What he’s almost asking. The waves crash gently against the shore, calming his mind and his nerves. His fingers dance over Scully’s shoulder, and he hears her sigh in contentment.
“Some do that,” he says softly, leaning his head against hers. “Others get married.” There’s no change in her, no surprise or rejection. He, on the other hand, is holding his breath. For all he knows, she’s not taking him seriously. Or rather, what he’s saying. Asking. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Some do that,” she says as if thinking about that. “Is that something you want to do, Mulder?” They’re not looking at each other, continue to watch the waves in front of them.
“I thought you wanted to get out of the car.”
“Getting out of the car doesn’t mean getting married. Do you want to get married?” She changes her position next to him to look at his face. His expression is sheepish. Does he want to get married? He’s been thinking about it. Ever since she mentioned getting out of the car. Ever since that hallucination where he dreamed about being married to Diana. Ever since he and Scully kissed. It’s been on his mind now and again.
“Maybe,” he says, hedging.
“You don’t want to get married. Come on, take off your shoes.” Scully gets up, kicking up sand.
Mulder laughs and asks, “What?”
“Take off your shoes,” she repeats, and when he takes too long, she bends down and starts untying them herself, giggling the entire time.
“What are you doing?” He’s already laughing, helpless against it. He loves this woman, every version of her. This playful, silly Scully he doesn’t get to see often, has a special place in his heart.
Together, they manage to get his shoes off, and then Scully is off. She runs ahead, more carefree than he’s ever seen her. Mulder peels off his socks, stuffs them into his shoes, and follows her. She is waiting for him with an outstretched hand.
“Fuck, Scully, the water is cold.” Her laugh echoes in his ear, forever his favorite song.
“Do you really want to get married?” she asks, sincerity in her voice. He thinks he can detect a hint of apprehension in her expression.
“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully. “I know I want this – us – to last forever. I’ve been thinking about getting married, making it official. But… you are it for me, Scully. With or without a piece of paper.”
“That’s how I feel, too.”
“Hey, that did sound a bit like vows, didn’t it? Who even needs Vegas?” He nuzzles her neck, making her chuckle softly. “We can draw up our own papers.” He whispers against her skin, kissing her behind her ear.
“So, it’s a promise?” he asks. They both know he will ask her again. Or she will ask him. One day, they will take this more seriously. But tonight, all they need are promises.
His hand slips out of hers, and he offers her a pinky. She glances at him, and then she links her pinky with his. It’s sealed.
“May I kiss my Scully?” he asks, grinning.
“You may.”
And with the ocean and the moon as their witness, they kiss.