She drinks about half of it-- crying does a number on you-- and sets the glass on the table, then watches him shuffle through the tapes. It feels so ordinary and so extraordinary at the same time; movie night wasn't exactly a regular occurrence, but she's dozed off on his couch before. But Mulder is fresh from the grave, and she's brought an extra guest. It sounds unreal. If it isn't-- she doesn't want to know.

"Terribly," she says, snuggling in, curling around his arm. She presses a kiss to whatever bit of him she can most easily reach, and decides it's worth another.

"I love you."

He's waited so long to hear it at all, and she did probably ruin that shirt.