They had been stewing in silence for a good hour now, sitting and
stewing on the flight from New Hampshire back to Washington.
Scully itched desperately for a cigarette, but naturally they were stuck
on a goddamn no smoking flight. Don't know what possessed me to
start up that particular habit again, she thought sourly. Although, that
wasn't exactly true. She knew exactly what and who had driven her to it.

Next to her, Mulder had his nose buried in the in-flight magazine,
pretending to be absorbed in what was no doubt a fascinating article
on coral reefs off the coast of Bermuda. Jerk. She still couldn't erase
that dreadful image from her mind, that bleached-blonde bimbo straddling
Mulder, the flush on his face when she had walked in on the two of them
together. She knew she had no right to be jealous, had no reason to
be jealous, but...well, whatever.

Actually, now that they were out of that hick town, headed back to
civilization, she was feeling a little bit better about the whole thing, if truth
be told. He had a right to do whatever he wanted, after all, and it wasn't
like he even really spoke to the bimbo before they left Comity, and he
had tried to deny that anything tawdry had happened...who was she
kidding. She was still pissed.

Mulder closed the magazine and leaned back in his seat, closing his
eyes and trying to block out the palpable presence of his partner beside
him. He knew she was still pissed -- her bitchiness in the car on the
way to the airport had made that perfectly clear. And he still didn't
understand just why she was so ticked off. It wasn't like he had done
anything, and even if he had, it wasn't any of her business how he
chose to spend his downtime.

Why hadn't he done anything, anyway? That was a question he still
hadn't been able to answer for himself. Angela was very attractive,
and very willing, and....and something had been in the way. Something
had stopped him. And he had a sinking feeling that that had more than
a little to do with the petite redhead sitting next to him who was currently
fascinated with picking at her cuticles. God, had he really made that
short joke? He groaned inwardly and shifted in his seat, pulling back
quickly as his leg brushed against hers.

Scully jumped involuntarily when Mulder's leg touched her thigh. Why
couldn't he just sit still for once? Overgrown, lanky bastard. Dammit,
she could kill for a smoke. The jones would pass in a day or two, at
least she hoped it would. She realized she was nibbling on her cuticles
and immediately stopped. Look at this, she realized, Mulder has driven
me to eating my own flesh. God, she hated this tension between them.
Hated it. Why did he have to be such a dick?

"Scully."

"Mmm."

"Scully, we need to talk."

"Mmm?" He might be right, but she'd be damned if she would make this
easy for him.

"I want you to know that nothing happened between me and Detective
White."

She looked away from him and idly wished the cabin pressure would
drop so he'd have to cover his mouth with the oxygen mask. "Mulder,
that's none of my business."

"Maybe. But I want you to understand that nothing happened. She
jumped on me, from out of nowhere --"

"Oh, come on, Mulder," Scully snapped, rolling her eyes. "Give me a
little more credit."

"Scully, it's true. I don't know what got into her. I suspect it had something
to do with the planetary alignment --"

"Please, not that again." She pulled her bag out from underneath her seat
and rummaged through it, frantically searching for the pack of cigarettes
she knew was hiding in there somewhere. A few puffs sneaked in the
bathroom wouldn't hurt anybody...

"Scully." He grabbed her hand and held it, startling her. His eyes locked
onto hers and wouldn't let go. "Nothing happened. And I hope you don't
think I would lie to you about something like this. You know I wouldn't."

He was right. But then again, she hadn't thought he would ever ditch her,
either. "Mulder, I want to believe you."

"You 'want to believe?' Now there's a first," he said teasingly. They both
laughed a little at that, and when Scully looked back up into his eyes, she
saw nothing there but openness. And trust. And in spite of herself, she
believed him.

"I also want to apologize for my behavior back there," he continued. "I
shouldn't have belittled you in front of a fellow officer. You were right, it
was unprofessional."

Scully could think of a few choice comments on the idea of that bimbo
being a fellow officer, but restrained herself. No sense in making things
worse. Besides, she knew, deep down, that he wasn't the only one who
had been a jerk. "I owe you an apology, too, Mulder," she said softly,
averting her eyes. "I was a real bitch the past few days, and I'm sorry.
Even if it was your fault for driving me to it."

He smiled. "Apology accepted. I think."

She smiled back, and he removed his hand from hers to reach up and
touch her hair gently. She forced herself to not stiffen at his touch, at the
stirring of desire she felt deep in her abdomen. "Friends?" he whispered.

"Always."

He removed his hand and sat back in his chair, and Scully tried to ignore
the feeling of loss that shot through her when he took his hand away.
She set her bag back under her seat, cigarettes now forgotten.

"So. The What's Their Dirty Little Secret Game?" he asked.

She nodded. "You go first."

"Okay." He leaned in close and gestured across the aisle with his chin.
"See that guy over there?" he whispered in her ear, and she squirmed at
the feel of his hot breath on her skin. "The one with less hair than Skinner?"

"Uh huh."

"He gives himself hickies with a vacuum cleaner hose."

She giggled. "Uh huh."

"You just know his entire fleshy, pudgy body is covered with them."

"Big red and purple marks."

"He waits until it's late at night, and he's all alone, just him and his beloved
hose..."

"Mulder, I think maybe you're a little too good at this game..."

The End...for now.