#2011ish

msr | pre revival | words: 440

She hates the song. She cringes every time it comes on the radio.

Mulder seems to like it. Then again, he likes Prince, so even after knowing this man for over 18 years, she still doesn’t know Mulder’s taste in music.

Eighteen years. Sometimes it seems so long ago when they first met. So much has happened. Yet Mulder continues to seem like he’s a man and boy mixed into one.

His tortured soul makes him old, but he’s so boyish at times, and Scully loves him for it. Though she always tells him that she wouldn’t change a thing between them, that she wouldn’t change a thing about him, sometimes even she knows it isn’t entirely true.

And that’s all Scully thinks about every time that song is played on the radio.

And the song is played on the radio all the damned time.

The radio plays it so often that she can’t help singing along with it. Like being a happy camper in her mother’s station wagon, she sings along in traffic as if she’s brain-washed. Who cares? No one is in the car with her, the people in the other cars won’t hear her, and it’s an upbeat song. No harm no foul, right?

Wrong. She has totally forgotten that Mulder’s coming with her into Baltimore today. How can she forget?! They had chatted about that news report in New Jersey on a driverless car doing donuts. Mulder had mistaken it to be one of those robotic vehicles until he found a video clip of the incident and saw that it was a regular sedan suck in reverse. Then, they made the decision of visiting her mother in Baltimore after lunch.

How quickly she forgets that he’s in the car with her. Well, she’s just two years shy of turning 50.

But Scully has no idea that not only Mulder knows the lyrics of the song, he interjects his reply almost impeccably.

“Hey I just met you,” she sings.

“No, you didn’t.” He snickers.

“And this is crazy,”

“who me?” He looks at her while pointing an index finger on his chest, looking adorably puzzled. Good thing they’re at the traffic light or she might crash the car.

“And here’s my number.”

“I got it, baby.” Mulder winks at her.

“So call me, maybe.” She breaks out into a giggle when he responds: “Definitely!”

“Will you always sing to me, Scully?” Mulder captures her right hand and plants a light kiss on it.

“No way.” She says.

But she does. In the shower, in the kitchen, while he’s shaving, while he’s cooking. She prides herself for letting herself enjoy singing, and he prides himself for getting his love to sing to him.

Tagging@today-in-fic, thank you.