If she were more awake, she might point out that the furniture downstairs wasn't exactly an unprompted redecorating spree. But she's not nearly that awake, and soon, she's not awake at all.

As long as she's known him, Mulder has tended towards insomnia; Scully, meanwhile, is a champion at finding odd moments and places to snatch some rest, a habit absolutely essential to her educational career, and extremely useful in any number of cars, planes, and terrible motels over the years. It's a little different to curl up together in the middle of the day, though, and if they weren't both dead tired from an all-night date-cum-survival adventure, this would feel wildly indulgent.

Actually--it still feels pretty luxurious, she thinks, when she eventually starts to surface. The last vestiges of her mascara have ruined Mulder's pillowcase, his breath is rustling her hair, and it's perfect. She tugs his arm a little closer around her.