Scully loves him; Scully wants him. It should be as obvious as breathing, a shadow following him any time he ventures into the light. And for once, it is.

He gives her what she wants, all of it: an easy rhythm, a scorching kiss, the water spraying over them the whole time. (Does this happen often in here? It's hard not to wonder what else this house has seen, in the time Scully's lived here.) It's not what it could be, fucking her the way they both want him to, but it feels like enough, from this vantage point. He's happy with the drag of his fingertips against her inner walls, the gentle pull he gives her lower lip.