“Scully, don’t you just love it?” His smile can always make her go weak at the knees. It makes her heart flutter. It makes her grin like an idiot. It makes the corners of her mouth curve up so hard that dimples come out. It makes her agree to things like going into a haunted house or speaking to him after he has ditched her for the seventeenth time.
But no, it does not make her love it.
There she stands by her sofa, donning the single most idiotic item Mulder has ever, ever purchased, in that god-awful color, too. Royal Purple with three exclamation points, as the box proudly declares. She has half a mind to write to the nice folks at the Snuggie Company and tell them this shade of purple is not royal purple.
It is a purple that does not exist in nature. It is a chemically-induced purple, like grape soda or grape lollipops or those horrendous blueberry-flavored cereal Mulder sometimes eats for breakfast on weekends that leaves his tongue and lips all purple.
She sometimes tells herself that not raising children with Mulder’s eating habits is a true blessing. It’s a fact she has yet to share with him but has faith that he will chuckle along with her while wolfing down macaroni in neon orange.
This shade of purple scares her. It reminds her of the Joker’s suit.
“Mulder,” she pauses for a second, “why?”
“It’s fluffy and nice. It’ll keep you warm. Here, feel!” He takes up a corner of the robe blanket and touches her cheek with it. “Isn’t that soft?”
“Yes, but...” How do I do this nicely? “It looks ridiculous. I look like I’m in a cult!” She draws up her arms, “Aren’t I the flying Secret Squirrel now?”
“But Scuh-lee, we can do this,” he smartly unwraps the blanket from her body and swivel the garment around to put it on him. Then, he wraps her body in his, and falls backward on the sofa with her in his arms. The robe blanket surrounds the two of them like a teepee. “We can watch TV like this and never go anywhere for the winter. And one of us can still move our arms and feed the other popcorn.”
He is still selling it so earnestly and she finds him adorable.
“I like your afghans, Mulder. Even though they aren’t as soft.”
He pouts slightly and she feels bad. She’s always excited to get a present, but has never learned how to pretend liking a present very well. She tries not to pretend with him, not her annoyance, not her amusement, and never pretending that he isn’t the single most important person in her life.
They sit, wrapped in the blanket with her back to his chest, in utter silence. His arms are in the sleeves, but he holds her tightly to him. She tunnels her right hand into one of the sleeves and guides his right hand back out of the sleeve to hold her left hand outside the sleeve. She then navigates her right hand back into the sleeve again to hold his left hand inside the sleeve. He kisses her neck and she knows his pout has gone away.
“See, this is nice.” He whispers.
“We could’ve done this without the blanket, Mulder.” She stares at the TV, which shows their reflection.
“Sure, but we’d look like idiots.” He says in such a serious tone that she started giggling.
“Mulder, how many of this did you get?” Mulder’s alert face shows up on the TV screen and she smiles at the sight.
“Call now and get the first one at $49.95 and we’ll throw in the second one for free! Just pay shipping and handling.” He mimics the infomercial and she giggles again.
“So we have two of these?” she presses her back into his chest, still not letting go of their held hands. This is warm and nice. “Are they in the same color?”
“No, the other one’s...” he pauses, “I don’t know what color is it. It’s the same color as Twizzlers. I just picked two colors that I thought looked nice.”
She turns her head and kisses him. “It’s nice. Thank you, Mulder.”
“We’ll keep one in the car and I’ll stop praying for raining sleeping bags.” His words make her laugh. Her laugh can always make his eyes twinkle. It makes him deliriously happy like a good buzz. It makes him howl at the night sky in a downpour. It makes him agree to do things like going to her mother’s for Sunday dinners or secretly want to have five children with red hair and a nose exactly like his.
And yes, it makes him do silly things like transforming the two of them into one gigantic hibernating blue couch potato.