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***
"You have the keys?"
"Yeah..."
"I'll drive."
Scully held out her hand expectantly.
"No, it's okay. I have plenty of experience driving single-handed."
"I'm sure." Her forehead puckered at the thought. "But someone has to
hold this."
She snatched the keys from Mulder, who found himself instead holding
her diet fountain soda from the hospital cafeteria. He awkwardly folded
himself into the passenger's seat, holding the cup in his right hand and
reaching across his body with his left to shut the door. He was glad for the
late-night emptiness of the parking garage. There was no audience to
witness the execution of his graceless maneuvers. Scully was adjusting the
driver's seat when she heard him hiss.
"Shit."
Mulder had splashed half of her drink on his t-shirt while trying to fasten
his seatbelt. A shiver passed through his body as the frigid January air
nipped at his wet skin. Scully started the car, setting the heater on High.
"Try to keep the dressing dry," she said, pulling a fistful of napkins from
the center console.
Mulder let the belt retract into the door. The bubbly liquid trickled down
his injured arm. He pulled his shirt over his head, tearing free the already
ripped right sleeve, and flung it to the floorboard with an added expletive.
"I liked that shirt..." he said morosely.
"I gave you that shirt."
Scully leaned far over to dab at the soda on his arm, fussing over him until
she was satisfied that the mess would not soak into the dressing or sling.
"Careful. You'll make me spill more."
She paused, surveying him askance. His expression was perfectly neutral,
but his ears were reddening. That's when she realized that she was
practically draped across him, braced with one hand on his hip.
"I can fix that," she said, taking a long sip from the drink he still clutched
in his right hand.
A singular thought pulled up at the corners of his mouth.
"What about all of this?" he asked, looking down at his wet, sticky chest.
Both of them glanced at the spent wad of napkins Scully still grasped. She
tossed them aside.
"Well, I guess we'd better clean it up before it dries completely."
She touched his face with her fingers, feeling the moisture that clung
there. Scully teased the fluid from the swell of his lower lip with the tip of
her tongue, following the trail down to suck a droplet from side of his
chin. Mulder forgot about the cold completely, drawing in a deep breath as
she continued tracing the path of the soda to where it had stopped just
below his breastbone.
The sound of an engine running nearby interrupted them, and Scully
bolted upright. She licked her lips, watching as a delivery van pulled into a
spot farther down the row. Mulder thought feverishly, an idea forming
with which to take advantage of the distraction, and poured the rest of her
diet soda over his stomach and down the front of his pants. The rush of icy
liquid made him gasp.
Scully turned, raising one eyebrow at his thin facade of innocence.
"You, uh, missed a spot."
***
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