Cerulean
by h0ldthiscat

Feedback: http://h0ldthiscat.tumblr.com/
Rating: PG-13
Category: Post-IWTB

Summary:  She shucks off her shorts when they are a few
hundred feet out and he revels in the sight of her legs stretched
long before her. The light blue button down flaps in the breeze.

***
     
She squints into the sunlight and shields her eyes with her hand
even though she's wearing sunglasses. "I don't know, Mulder."

"Is it the sun you're afraid of or my rowing abilities?" 

"Both," she confesses, looking warily at the hand-painted sign
that promises them a rowboat all to themselves for only $20.
"How far out are you planning on getting?"

"Far enough that those bratty kids on the beach won't be able to
see us necking." He tickles at her side under her coverup,
which he is beginning to recognize is an old shirt of his he
thought he'd lost years ago. 

She arches an eyebrow at him. "Oh, there'll be necking on this
rowboat of yours, will there?" 

"There will if I have anything to say about it." 

She sighs and scoots closer to him. "You've broken down my
steel resolve."

The gentleman who takes their money and shows them to the
dock doesn't speak much English, but Mulder is too busy
watching the sway of Scully's hips in her loose pair of cotton
shorts that peek out from her--his--shirt to notice much.

He puts his hand on the small of her back to help her down into
the rowboat, grinning like a fool as she struggles to keep her
balance while she moves to sitting.

"I'm used to bigger boats than this," she explains, reading his
mind. 

"I didn't say anything."

"I heard you think it," she whispers in his ear as he slides past
her and down into the boat, and he laughs and kisses her softly. 

X

She shucks off her shorts when they are a few hundred feet out
and he revels in the sight of her legs stretched long before her.
The light blue button down flaps in the breeze.

"That's my shirt," he says. His arms are beginning to tire of
rowing, but he notices the way her eyes travel up and down his
biceps behind her sunglasses, so he keeps at it.

"I was wondering when you'd ask about it," she says, smiling
that mysterious smile of hers, all smirk and secrets in the
corners of her mouth. 

"I haven't seen that thing in..." He shakes his head, unable to
remember the last time he'd worn it. "I doubt it'd fit me
anymore."

"You've filled out quite nicely," she praises, lowering her
sunglasses down her nose to stare at him pointedly. He thinks
he sees her bite her bottom lip. She rubs her foot up the front of
his calf. "It's yours anytime you want it back." 

They fall silent after a while, and he falls into a rhythm with the
movement of the water. It's unbelievably blue, like her eyes get
sometimes, like her bikini right now. He's about to open his
mouth to say something like, "I see why your father loved it out
here so much," or "You're the prettiest girl in the world," but
she speaks first. 

"I took it from your apartment when you died."

It takes him a minute to realize she's talking about the shirt,
and he doesn't know what to say. "Oh." 

She tells him things sometimes, things about when he was gone
the first time, and then the second time. She says them like
facts, not quite cold and clinical, but very matter-of-factly, as
she likely had to think of them back then to get by. *William
moved his mobile through telekinesis. For a while I wanted to
bleach my hair blonde. One night, after I gave him up, I
thought very fleetingly about taking a bottle of pills.* 

He lets her tell him, because he knows she needs to, because he
knows she wants to share with him, to tell him all the little
things he missed. It kills him a little bit but he lets her tell him. 

"It looks better on you than it ever did on me," he tells her
finally.

The water laps against the hull of the rowboat and he feels the
sun very hotly on his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to be an Eeyore," she says after a little while.

"You're not," he assures her. She is not.

"I should have taken that little red speedo you used to have,"
she muses, grinning now. "Brought it with us on this trip."

He almost drops one of the oars in the water. "How do you--"

"I went looking for you one morning and someone said they'd
seen you go down to the pool. So I took a peek in and... I didn't
stop peeking."

"When was this?" He is equal parts embarrassed and aroused.

She shrugs, her long hair slipping off her shoulder and down
her back. "Long time ago. '96, '97?"

He glances past her to the dock where they set off. He can't
hardly see it anymore. "You up for some necking, Dr. Scully?"

Her eyes flash and she leans forward, resting her elbows on her
knees. Her breasts strain against the flimsy fabric of her bikini
top. "I thought you'd never ask," she purrs.