hood of old car

what are they | los angeles ufo fluff | wc: 560 | warnings: none

i.

“Mulder, nothing is out there.” She tapped the windshield.

“Come on, Scully.” His voice was so weightless that she felt the sound waves had done him an injustice. Why stay so near to the ground, why travel through the open windows to meet her when they could get a head start for the sky, reach out to the aliens? First contact. “You don’t believe that. You have alien DNA. You’re out there.”

She could leave him in the dirt. She could put the car into drive and speed through the hills, let those dry Santa Ana winds set beating the heart he’d just unintentionally stopped. But even in that fantasy she was already coming back for him. He leaned on the hood of the car and smiled at her with the old eagerness to please, the insecurity that no amount of cuffed sleeves and ruffled hair could counteract. I need you on this, Scully. She curled her hands around her coffee.

“Nothing is out there now, then.”

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