Does Scully know she's louder during sex? Does Mulder tease her about it sometimes?
“That was great,” he grunts out into her hair, reaching down to do up his fly. He politely holds up the flaps of his trench coat while she fixes her bra and pulls down her sweater. “But you’re gonna get us caught one day.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pushes him off to inspect her clothing under the shaky light of the stairwell, her heels echoing over the sounds of parking cars and ringing elevators.
“Scully,” he says, as an answer. She passes her own inspection; there’s not a wrinkle to be found on her. Mulder, on the other hand, will be tucking his chin to his chest the rest of the day to hide her lipstick on his collar, and the trench will be sent off to the dry cleaners for the third time this pay period. He now remembers why he stopped wearing them. They’re a bitch to maintain.
“If I recall, you were the one so… stimulated by an innocent conversation on Ganzfeld experiments you decided to ambush me in a federal parking garage.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Well, then what?” She demands, combing her fingers through her hair. At least he has that going for him. She’s screwed until she finds a bathroom and a hairdryer. She might need to just cut it all off.
He stares at her blankly. Does she not know? She has to know. How does she not know?
“Oh, Mulder,” he says, in a voice only slightly higher than his own. At her lack of a response, he continues, going higher. “Don’t stop, Mulder. Yes.” She ignores him still. He goes even higher, louder, crowds her back up against the wall as she reapplies her lipstick. “Fuck me, Fox–”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she interrupts, her voice tight. He misses the slightest upturned quirk of her lips when she checks herself out in her pocket mirror.