Notes: Arcadia post-ep drabble. Or flopsy, depending on how technical you get with these things.
Mulder looked shocked, and Scully was instantly swamped with guilt. She had never, ever, called him on anything close to sexual harassment. She always took his innuendoes and leers in the spirit in which they were intended: Tension Diffusion (closely related to Distract Scully From Argument At Hand), Anything For A Laugh, and Safe Compliment. Often it was all of the above.
Embarrassed and ashamed of herself, Scully quickly spun around to deliver her plate to the sink. Good God, what had she said? "Infantilizing?" Scully scrubbed at the remains of dinner, reminding herself she was angry at him with good reason, Mr. Off Consorting with that Enemy Bi-- the Enemy. Once again, a wistful tendril of thought uncurled itself in her brain. If only this assignment wasn't now, when everything was overlaid with a dull burning anger and betrayal. And the hurt. Musn't forget the hurt. But anger was exhausting, and if this playing-house case had occurred even two weeks later... well, she might have let him take more liberties. And she might have allowed herself to enjoy them more.
She finished her dishes and turned around. Mulder was a safe distance behind her, plate in hand. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said, "I won't ever refer to you or any woman again in such a demeaning, repressive, infantilizing way."
The next morning, when Win asked them how they'd slept, Mulder beamed at them and, true to his word, said, "We curled up just like a pair of baby cats."