Chapter Text
The Westward Inn - Ohio - Around mid-December 1995
He knew he was completely stupid, but he couldn't help.
Scully was in the bathroom with Kevin --that little Angel face-- taking great care of the kid and running him a bath, and he couldn't help being upset.
Kevin was just a boy even if he was special, sure, he was a victim, true, he had to be protected, obviously, nevertheless Mulder couldn't help to feel that burning prick in his heart. The one that became more and more present, more and more undisciplined. The one that could suddenly appear like a jack-in-the-box, a tiny piercing arrow shot by a facetious angel infailingly hitting its target, Mulder's soft core and soul.
He should have known that there was a name for that sensation, for this mere concept, but he wouldn't allow his cognitive and rational brain to formulate it. Jealousy. Instead, he would just let his subconscious take control of his body, he would behave like a Pavlovian puppy and react by silly wits or unfair judgments.
"You never draw my bath," Mulder said when Scully left Kevin and stepped into the bedroom.
Lying on the bed, holding the case file he hadn't been able to read since Scully had begun to fill the tub, he threw his childish words like a lifeline to Scully. That was honestly a cheap line and his words instantly vanished into the air, swallowed by the seriousness of the situation and Scully's sincere concern for the holy boy.
Then the moment passed as he went. In a blink. Back into the case and their discords on it.
Airport - Ohio - Two days later
Mulder was waiting for Scully, pacing back and forth at their gate, lost in his thoughts. He was concerned about her, about her will to run an errand before flying back to DC. She had even let him on his own to make the statement to the sheriff about Gates' death. That was really significant of her overwhelmed state of mind --very unprofessional as he wasn't present at the recycling plant. He was speculating what sort of errands she had made, or rather was compelled to do. Obviously not buying Christmas presents, but probably fulfilling something somehow related to the Christ.
He was aware that his own takes on religion --especially major religion and Christian faith-- weren't as open-minded as they were in other domains. What about Scully? How could she reconcile her faith with her rigorous scientific brain? Maybe that was unecessary to dig into those thoughts too actively and too deeply, or to argue once again with her about that matter. Maybe that was part of the package of being simply human. Being full of paradoxes. Honestly, that was appealing for him. Discovering great Scully's mysteries and contradictions every now and then, time and circumstances slowly peeling her like an onion, revealing fresh and soft layers of... of... skin, valleys and mounds... Damn! His brain had gone loose, freely conveying fantasies upon his serious cogitation.
"Mulder!" Scully yelled from far away, running in the corridor to reach him and the gate on time.
"It's okay, Scully. No need to rush like that," Mulder replied with a big smile when she was close enough. He let her catch her breath, staring at tiny drops of sweat spotting her forehead, restraining his right hand to wipe them away.
"First thing I do back home is plunging into a warm bubble bath," Scully told Mulder in a lighthearted tone and smiling back at him.
As his gaze moved down to her eyes, scrutinizing her mood through them, he could tell that every tension, gravity and worries from hours and days ago had vanished. Or, more probably, had been stowed away after her errand in a place that could resurface at any time, especially when circumstances would peel her like an onion...
Skin, valleys and mounds slowly being unveiled behind his eyes as he fancied her stripping off, then plunging her divine body into a warm bubble bath.