2.With a hoarse voice, under the blankets
Frohike has never seen her so… docile. She’s giggly, even whiny, as he pulls her away from the bar. (“Where’re we goin’?”)
In the lobby, her heel gets stuck in the crack between the elevator car and the floor, and he helps un-stick her: “C’mon, little lady.”
Her voice is so high. She steadies herself with a hand on his shoulder, then pats it and gives him a big smile. “You’re th’ lil lady.”
“Okay, Dr. Scully,” he tells her.
Her eyes go big and surprised. Then she sneezes—all over them both—and wrinkles her nose.
Frohike produces a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for the first time since he placed it there some years ago, lest a beautiful woman find herself in need, and hands it to her. After wiping her nose, Scully passes it back.
She clutches the hankie to her chest and swoons, dramatic.
After Susanne administers the antidote, she’s sleepy. Passed out, in fact. But he’s not about to leave her to sleep in her uncomfortable shoes, over the covers, so she wakes as he’s shucking off her heels and trying to turn down the bed while she’s already in it.
She mmphs and mumbles—her little sleeping noises, rolls halfway over, and finally opens her eyes.
“Hey, Scully,” he greets her. “You sleeping alright?”
“You got my shoes?” She wiggles her toes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got ‘em. They’re right here.”
“Where’s Muller?” she wonders, voice scratchy and small. She rubs an eye. “He’s coming t’ get me, right?”
“Yeah,” Frohike tells her, and rubs her arm. “He’s coming to getcha. He’ll be here soon.”
“Hey.” She wakes again to Mulder’s hand on her forehead, pushing back her hair. He looks worried. “You alright?”
“Mm.” She feels his body, a warm spot, through the covers where he sits on the bed. She curls around him, getting comfy.
Clearly, he can see, she’s fine. But he is not a man at ease, having flown cross-country at the news that not only had the Gunmen tricked his partner into her own trip to Vegas—she had been drugged.
“M’ good,” Scully mumbles. “You got me.”
“Alright,” he whispers, chuckling, and kisses her cheek. “You just keep resting, Scully. I’m gonna go yell at my three least favorite stooges for a while, and then I’ll be right back, okay?”
“M’kay.” But she hooks an arm over his thigh so he stays put. “Love you.”
She nuzzles into his pant leg like a cat. “L’you so much.”