It was almost a casefile in itself, this magically-stretching weekend between assignments. Mulder's fish bubbled happily in their tank, the fridge was at optimal good-food fullness (with butter and beer and stir-fry sauce and without the bad of eggplant and okra) and he was rested and healthy. He checked again. Nope, not a gunshot wound, not even a hangnail. Footloose and fancy-free.

So why were his feet suddenly so itchy?

Refusing to think, he packed beer and leftover chicken and some garlic dills in an old cooler. Refusing to consider which direction to drive (and smiling when he contemplated closing his eyes, to make the destination even more random) Mulder's car eventually parked itself, slotting into a made-for-it spot directly outside Scully's door.

Scully could have been at the market or her mother's or a dozen other places. She could have been cleaning her gun, washing the walls, or soaking in the tub, immersed in those girlie potions he pretended to know nothing about. But no. He knew without any logical reason that she would be home and as charmed by the balmy weekend as he.

A shave-and-a-haircut knock on the door and it swung open, Scully resplendent in cut-offs and a ponytail. Mulder tasted the word again, smiling down at her. Yes. She was as resplendent as the perfumed flavour of ripe cantaloupe, and he smiled.

"Hi." Scully smiled back, quirking her eyebrow in that I'm surprised but won't admit it way.

He propped open the cooler. "A drive, a brew, and you?"

"And me what?"

"And you and I enjoy a little D.C. sunshine. There's a patch of park grass with our name on it. Maybe by the river?"

"You know, Mulder, every once in a while you have a good idea." At the organized set of Scully's shoulders, he smiled again.

"Let me see," she muttered, her head in the closet, "we'll need a blanket and sun block and, oh, here's my hat." The baseball cap sat lopsided on her head, and Mulder stepped closer to carefully thread her ponytail through the gap at the back.

"Uh, thanks." Scully's cheeks were an attractive shade of pink. She blinked up at him. "Do you have some fruit in there?"

"Nope." He snapped the cooler lid at her, alligator-style, and Scully grinned.

"Do you like cantaloupe?"

Mulder laughed.

xXx

A hop and a skip through Saturday traffic and they were stretched side by side on a faded red quilt, Scully propped against the tree as Mulder did his Mr. Cool impression behind his favourite shades. He felt unaccustomed smile lines crinkling his eyes and the soporific pull of hot sun. Swallowed the sharp tang of wildflower perfume. Distant water murmured a counterpoint to the chirp and play of crickets, and a dog barked in the distance.

Mulder relaxed into the moment - and must have relaxed more than he knew, waking himself with his own snore. He coughed. And held his breath at Scully's hand skimming hair at the top of his head.

"You okay, sleepyhead?" Scully's voice sounded amused.

"I was drugged."

Scully snorted. "Uh huh. I remember a family picnic where my father might have had too much of that beer you're complaining about."

Mulder propped himself up by his elbow. Scully's infrequent stories were quick glimpses, silver fish in the dark pool of her previous life. Mulder was a patient fisherman.

She settled back, a far-away look in her eye and half-smile on her lips. "When I was ten or so we lived near a lake, and one Saturday mom stayed home and the rest of us piled into the old Buick and went for a picnic. Did I tell you my father didn't like snakes?"

"No, you've never mentioned his snake phobia."

"Dad always said he wasn't afraid of snakes, he just didn't like them."

"Sure. Call that and raise you one."

"Whatever." Scully's smile broadened. "We went swimming, then ate, and then dad finished off a beer or two as we ran around. Billy and Melissa started diving off a big rock into the deeper water. Charlie and I were poking around the reeds at the edge of the lake when we spotted a snake. This big."

Scully's arms spread wide, and Mulder was reminded of fish tales, grander with each retelling.

"That's a big snake. Was it poisonous?"

"No. Luckily, since we didn't check."

Mulder's hand flew to his chest, pretending to still his heart. "I'm shocked, Dr. Scully, that you didn't have a thorough knowledge of class reptilia before you were out of diapers. And you a scientist."

"Shut up, Mulder. Charlie and I looked at the snake, and then looked over at dad, snoring bare-chested on the blanket. We didn't have to say a word."

"You didn't."

"Yep." Scully smirked. "We each grabbed an end, snuck over to dad, and dropped it on his chest - then ran as fast as we could into the water."

Scully snorted through her nose. "I've never seen," she started laughing, a good laugh, from deep inside. "I've never seen a grown man - my father! - jump so high and quickly. His screams must have scared the snake, too, because it did this scary backflip wriggle and landed in the bushes."

Mulder felt champagne fizz in his belly, happy delight rising out of him in waves.

"Dad was swearing a blue streak till he remembered we were there." Scully's eyes watered as she snickered, and Mulder couldn't help but join in.

"Did your father know who did it?"

"Never. We would never dare tell him. One minute he was snoring, the next - from what he told mom, it was like a giant python fell from the sky."

A burst of chuckles escaped Mulder and he grinned.

"Mulder, I haven't heard you laugh this long and hard in, well, ever."

"Hmmm." He stretched luxuriously, patted the blanket with what he hoped was an enticing hand. "Come here, Scully. Let's try some horizontal laughter."

Scully's answering smile was as warm and ripe with promise as the sun on their perfect spring day.