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Mulder returns with bags full of groceries in his hands and a pout on his face. Scully’s growling stomach makes her sift through the bags in search of peaches. Their child – much like their father – is too impatient to wait. Once she finds the peaches, she bites into one of the ripe fruits, moans in contentment, and sits back down.
“Scully, are we old?” Mulder asks out of the blue, pout still in place, unpacking the rest of the bags. She stares at him, wondering what brought the question on.
“You know we are,” she says, refusing to sugarcoat the truth. “What happened at the store?”
“There was this punk,” Mulder says, and then sighs. He stares at the apples he bought, inspects them as if something might be wrong with them. “This young kid at the store. He was listening to his music on full blast, and I told him that the song slayed.”
Scully bites her lip to stop herself from laughing.
“The way that kid looked at me, Scully. I tried it again and said his outfit was lit. At that point, he rolled his eyes and said I was lost.”
“Lost, Scully. I’m not lost!” He sighs again before he puts the eggs in the fridge and turns back to her.
“Please tell me you didn’t call him your homie,” Scully says.
“Of course not. You’re my only homie.”
“Mulder, you’re not 20 anymore. You’re not even 30 or 40 anymore. Why are you trying to talk like you are?”
“I don’t want Jackson to think we’re losers,” he admits, a sheepish look on his face. “We’re cool, right? Even if we are old. Older,” he quickly corrects himself.
“If it’s any consolation,” Scully says, gently patting his hand. “You will always be cool to me.”
“Don’t you mean dope?” He grins at her.
“The internet really is not good for you.” But she can no longer hide her smile. “Our son – and this new one here,” she points at her belly, “will from time to time consider us uncool, Mulder. That’s normal.”
“I know, I know. At least you’re adorbs with your peach obsession.” Scully giggles.
“It’s what the baby wants,” she says, reaching for another one. She must have eaten more than a dozen in the last couple of days.
“Are you going to share any of them with me?”
“No,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. Mulder pretends to be shocked, but his smile betrays him. He walks toward her and puts a hand on her ever-growing belly.
“Really?” he asks again, his face close to hers.
“Really,” she says, but her hunger shifts; she no longer craves peaches, but Mulder instead. His face so close, she can’t resist. And she doesn’t have to. She snatches his grin away with her lips, kissing him deeply.
“Hm,” he says after, licking his lips, but not taking his eyes off her. “We’re not too old for this, are we? And those peaches really do taste good. Or maybe it’s just you. I need another sample.”
“You want more?” she asks, and he nods before she descends on his lips again. Maybe she’s okay with sharing after all.