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It wasn't long into their partnership before Scully discovered something unexpected about working with Mulder. It wasn't his ceaseless determination to discover the truth and examine every strange lump of it, nor his disregard for his own safety when he was on the precipice of answers bigger than them. Those, Scully could deduce from the moment she met him.
It was the touching. Mulder touched Scully so casually, so without conscious thought, that it made her head spin. Not just the touching, either, but also how close he got to her, constantly intruding on her personal space, that caused a slurry of mixed emotions inside her.
Sheer incredulousness at first - absurdity that this stranger of a male coworker thought he could breach her space with no regard for her opinion on it, even if it was unintentional. They were federal agents at work – some form of professionalism had to be maintained, which included respecting personal space.
She thought about saying something to him about it, or even broaching the subject with Skinner, to see if he noticed it too. But how do you tell someone as one-track minded as Mulder to stop something he didn't realize he was doing? It wasn't all negative, though, and that's why Scully never said anything.
Part of her welcomed the touches; a firm, warm hand gripping her shoulder after delivering tough news to despondent parents, a tight clasp of hands while running from something through the woods, the many friendly arms wrapped around her shoulders when they went for drinks after work and he got too drunk to walk straight. They made her feel light, a dead ringer of that specific type of close intimacy she shared only with her family – and the increasing possibility for Mulder to share that same spot in her heart.
It also helped that as their time spent together increased, Mulder became more predictable to her.
Not because of changes on his part, but because Scully learned to read him. Mulder was different than most men, more intense and earnest and open with his feelings in a way Scully found refreshing and easy. Animated was not the word she'd use – in fact, she would say Mulder was typically pretty stone-faced, only showing emotion in moments of extreme anguish or elation.
His body language, however, was predictable. Clenched fists and jaw indicated anger or frustration. Bouncing knees or fiddling with loose threads on his clothes indicated anxiety and a desperation to get on with whatever was boring him. And most of his touches indicated a worry for her, a worry borne out of love and guilt that she knew ran so deep through him it might be the only thing keeping him upright, sometimes.
It sickened her, this worry. She knew he blamed himself for the abduction that led to the chip being planted in her neck. For the other times she had been kidnapped as well - he felt a duty to protect her that went beyond a regular working relationship. She thought it unnecessary, uncomfortable with the fact that she could not be emotionally separate from her job when she worked around Mulder every day. His concern and love for her was obvious in every casual caress of her hair, every taking of her hand, and she hated herself for seeking it, needing his touch as desperately as a drowning man needed air.
It wasn't clear to her the role her issues with male authority figures played in her relationship with Mulder. She knew she craved the attention and praise, enjoyed living in the fact that these older, more experienced men held a continuous interest in her. Mulder, though slightly older than her, did not exactly fill that role in her life. She was content to let him take the lead on most of their cases, to follow him wherever he found possibility of supernatural evidence; because most times, Mulder treated her as her equal, her partner in the truest sense of the word.
However, his years of experience over her on the X-Files sometimes caused nasty spats between them. He thought he knew more of the world than her, thought her skepticism on cases that were so clearly to him supernatural in origin was narrow-minded ignorance and a willingness to accept the easiest answer. To her, she was fulfilling the assignment she was sent to do – push back against Mulder's theories and debunk his work. She didn't want to – in fact, what Scully wanted the most was to believe him. She knew he wasn't crazy, but her duty to science and the integrity of her job was what kept her honest and unforgiving with Mulder.
Now, the two of them sat in his office, the day's work finished, atmosphere tight. Mulder was flicking through an old-new box of unsolved files, reading news clippings out of each before putting it back into its spot. His heart wasn't in it; Scully could tell by the lack of energy in his fingers, his sluggish flicks and unfocused eyes.
She knew he was ruminating– they had just come back from debriefing Skinner on a grisly case of a rural teacher torturing a teenage student for months on end to harvest energy for a ritual. It wasn't the most brutal case they'd seen, however her kidnapping seemed to have similarities to Samantha's abduction – the parents reported having seen a bright light shining through their windows, before their sleeping daughter had floated off the couch towards it, leaving through the front door which unlocked and opened for her with no one near.
The official response the Bureau gave after hearing their testimonies was the parents were found to be psychologically manipulating the teacher by implanting ideas in her head that their child was evil and needed to be sacrificed. The teacher's schizophrenia, which she was unmedicated for, allowed her to easily believe this and also be influenced into sending thousands of dollars to the parents. Any details of the ritual circle or paranormal abduction were omitted from the official transcript, despite Mulder yelling at Skinner trying to convince him otherwise.
He had gotten his hopes up, thinking it might be a significant step in finding her; never before had they found a case so similar to her abduction, so personal to him. Being misled for the umpteenth time and then forced to recount the case to a man who wouldn't believe him seemed to kill his mood more than usual.
Scully checked the clock next to the wall of one of Mulder's many bookshelves, which consisted of multiple shelves stacked precariously on top of each other. A safety hazard by definition, but Mulder seemed to have a system going that he had faith in, so Scully would continue to worry about it falling in silence.
The clock read 4:15, and Scully was feeling tense. She knew it was useless to try and talk Mulder out of his funk, however her recent thoughts had her curious enough to try.
"Mulder."
He looked up at his name, his eyes quickly finding hers. Mulder was always attentive when Scully called for him.
"Scully," he responded, closing the file he was looking through to focus his attention on her. His eyes were tight, mouth set in a disappointed line. She stopped for a moment, thinking of how to word her question.
"Since we've been partnered together, I've noticed your propensity to... touch others quite casually. Why?"
Scully cringed a little at her approach, hoping Mulder wouldn't take it badly due to his poor attitude already.
"Touch others? Really Scully, you make me sound like a pervert."
He let out a breath of laughter and Scully relaxed a little, knowing he took no offense. He continued.
"Honestly, it's just something I've never given thought to. My parents weren't exactly the affectionate type, so I guess you could make a theory that it was a lack of that. Besides, other than you and the Gunmen, Scully, I don't exactly hang out with many other people. It could be borne out of a lack of normal social skills – I don't know."
He shrugged it off, though Scully could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was really thinking about it. She sat on his answer for a moment. Mulder's background in psychology gave credence to his theory. It made logical sense to her as well. A lack of physical love while growing up could cause unfamiliarity and awkwardness around the subject, since there was no one in his life to model it for him.
He himself also acknowledged his lack of normal social interactions as an adult (the Lone Gunmen very heavily fall into the abnormal social interaction camp). Scully knew that Mulder had past romantic and sexual relationships with women who must have taught him how they liked to be touched, which likely informed all of his interactions, romantic or not. This, alongside the maturity and gradual understanding that comes with adulthood, fueled him to be a tactile person. It also explained why his touches were so intimate, and why he had no sense of personal boundaries.
She opened her mouth to reply, something dryly sarcastic about how he didn't need social skills for his hermit life down here, but he beat her to the punch.
"You know Scully, it's funny you bring that up, because you could say the same about you."
She stared at him, at a loss for words. What was he talking about? She did not touch Mulder – well, she amended in her head, she didn't touch Mulder unless it was medically necessary. She recalled their time on the boat in Alaska, pulling his collar down to check for the parasite in his skin. Or when he got shot by Lucas Henry and she followed him to the ground, taking his shirt off to expose the wound and keep pressure on it.
"I have not touched you, Mulder, unless it was necessary to save your life! You're making stuff up."
Incredulous, he laughed at her, which only served to aggravate her more.
"Scully, you can't believe that. How many instances have there been where we've held hands? Hugged? Don't tell me you think I've initiated all of those.
"You have!" She cried out, genuinely a little concerned for herself. Had she really been unconsciously reaching for Mulder? Not only that, but convincing herself she hadn't? A myriad of emotions coursed through her. Concern for her memory, shock at the accusation, doubt she wasn't being honest with herself. She thought about it – really thought about it – and remembered.
Being kidnapped by Donnie Pfaster was something Scully preferred not to think about at all, if she could help it. Occasionally, the memories came to the surface in flashes, but she was good about pushing them down. It was a trying time in her life in all aspects – the first anniversary of her father's death, the kidnapping by Duane Barry and subsequent abduction by...aliens? The US government? She still wasn't sure.
Regardless, she remembered Mulder on the Pfaster case, his concern for her making a rare appearance on his typically stony face. His reassurance that there was no shame in being unable to handle it, especially given what she'd just went through. Her own walls crumbling down after Pfaster was apprehended, Mulder's gentle, guiding touch on her chin leading her eyes to his being her final straw. She remembered collapsing into him, sobbing harder than she'd sobbed in a very long time.
She remembered the rest of the night. They didn't stay in Minnesota, instead taking a red eye back to DC. Mulder was hyper-aware of her the whole time, constantly looking over during their flight and taking her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He brought her home and offered to stay with her or call Melissa or her mom, all of which she declined. She remembered Mulder kissing the top of her head and driving home, and her left wishing he would have just stayed.
"I-" She cut herself off, the strength of the recall silencing her. Mulder sat, patient and waiting, a silent pillar of support for her. It angered her that he could read her so well when she spent so much energy trying to shield herself emotionally from him, to prevent him from knowing her thoughts. As quickly as the anger came, it passed, numb acceptance replacing it. She knew she couldn't control herself the way she wished around him – he was too attractive, too attentive, too Mulder.
"I, uh, remember an instance now." She replied lamely, and Mulder smiled knowingly. He said nothing, instead opting to let her talk.
"After the Pfaster case, I needed comfort, Mulder. And you gave it to me, and I thank you for that. That point in my life was especially arduous, and in spite of your apparent lack of social skills you made it bearable.
"And I still haven't thought about that night, if I'm being honest," Scully admitted. "I should seek professional help for it; I've seen the Bureau therapist once, and she helped, but perhaps it would be better if it was someone that had no connection with the Bureau."
Mulder nodded, though Scully wasn't sure if it was in agreement or acknowledgement of what she said. It was a rejection of him as well, though Scully wasn't opposed to discussing it with Mulder outside of work.
"Of all the examples to pull from, Scully, you had to go and choose the most traumatic one. Now you've gone and killed the mood."
She laughed and felt a rush of love for him. Mulder knew she was vulnerable and also knew how much she disliked feeling vulnerable at work, even if it was only him in the room. Mulder knew her, and Scully was okay with that right now.
"I just can't help it Mulder; it's in my blood" she countered sarcastically. She checked the time again. Surprised, she noticed it was 5:05 – five minutes past the end of their work day. She nodded her head at the clock.
"It's five past," she informed him. She made her way over to his mini-fridge tucked in a corner and grabbed her lunch leftovers before meeting him at the coat rack. Mulder's coat was on already; he had her own out and ready for her, as was their routine, which she easily slipped into.
They left the office and followed the rush of other Bureau workers out of the building, walking side by side, arms occasionally rubbing against each other. The casual touch was not something she was afraid of with Mulder anymore, especially knowing now she was doing it herself. Making it intentional, however, was the tough part. Though Scully was never one to turn down a challenge.
"Mulder." She called for his attention and, in a moment of pure bravery, skimmed the back of his hand with her fingers to draw his attention. She thought she noticed a jolt of his hand, and a warm satisfaction unfurled within her.
He turned his head to look at her, curious.
"Wanna go for drinks? First two rounds on me." Her heart stuttered in nervous anticipation. She'd never asked before, never offered to pay either. After her miniature meltdown and subsequent realization, she thought Mulder would think it best to leave her alone for the rest of the day. She didn't know how to tell him that was the last thing she wanted.
Well, she thought, it couldn't be more obvious than this.
He whistled low.
"First two rounds? You must be holding some money from me Scully. I'm down; our usual spot is alright? I'll drive."
She nodded, and the two left the Bureau, familiar, yet unexplored emotions for Mulder expanding in her chest. For once, she wasn't mad at herself for it.