Mulder would be staying the night. What a lovely thought! Besides, there wasn’t much of a chance that she would beat him home. If she hadn’t been in the lead, she was certain he would have been pushing eighty. As it was, she was having a hard enough time keeping her speedometer only ten miles an hour above the speed limit.
She well recognized the constant twinge in the pit of her stomach… the one that kept her foot pressing just slightly more forcefully against the pedal than it should have been. It was nervous anticipation.
Nervous, she realized, only because she was happy, because it was important to her. Not because she thought anything would go wrong. Nothing ever went wrong when she and Mulder were making love. In fact, it seemed like the only time in the world that everything went right.
And God, it had been so long… she heard Mulder’s amused chuckle in the back of her mind and realized with a start that she was now exceeding the speed limit by twenty miles an hour. She glanced in her rearview mirror and caught the image of his face in the strobe lights of the passing street lamps. He was grinning, and she knew she hadn’t imagined his laughter. She’d heard it.
He had been laughing at her, and she knew why. She, Dana Scully, who had taken the lead in an attempt to keep the two of them from speeding tickets, was now endangering both of them.
< What the hell. I’ve got my badge. I’ll just tell them it’s an emergency. And it certainly is… somewhere around a year since I’ve been with the man I love more than anything in this world. No way a little speeding ticket is going to stop me. >
Her conscience tried to persuade her that, after all this time, a few minutes weren’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things; that if she didn’t slow down, they might be in a terrible accident and it would be another year before either of them were recovered enough… or it might never happen. One of them might be killed.
She had been feeling rebellious up until that last thought.
No way.
No way was she going to take any chances on losing this. She wasn’t going to live without him, and she loved him too much to ask him to live without her.
With a frustrated sigh, she eased off the accelerator and gently applied pressure to the brake. < Almost there, anyway. Just a few more minutes. >
The light in front of her turned red and she grumbled under her breath. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she growled at the inordinately long amount of time it took for the light to change. When it did, she could almost hear Mulder laughing out loud as her tires squealed with the imperative of her “go” command.
She was going to be a mess by the time they got to her apartment. She sincerely hoped Melissa Samantha Mulder was happily asleep by the time she got home.
That thought skittered across her mind and led to another one. Had she ever told Mulder that she’d given the baby his last name? Would he mind? Had she even told him the baby’s name? Surely…
If she had, she realized suddenly, it was only a casual mention, and she had probably called her Missy.
He probably had no idea that she had named her after both of their sisters. And him.
She smiled, pleased at the tranquility that came with the thoughts of their child. The contentment that gave her enough patience to get to her apartment without incident.
Thank God. They were finally there.
Mulder listened contentedly to the sound of Scully’s voice on her answering machine. He usually was impatient when he had to talk to it, and in fact had heard a quote – he couldn’t remember who’d said it – that perfectly described his feelings about talking to it: “If I wanted to talk to a machine, I’d whisper sweet nothings to my vacuum cleaner.”
Only problem with that scenario? He didn’t own a vacuum cleaner.
But now he grinned lopsidedly at her voice, as he’d known she wouldn’t answer. She was in the car ahead of him, gradually increasing her speed until she was at sixty miles an hour in a forty-miles-an-hour zone. He laughed at her, knowing she was as anxious to get to her apartment as he was.
Finally the electronic beep told him he could record his message, and he spoke. “Meg? Meg, this is Mulder if you’ll pick up, please…”
There was a click, and Meg’s voice came giggling over the line. “Yes, hello?”
“Ah, Meg…” he started, somewhat uncomfortable with her giggle. Did she have a boyfriend over?
“Hold on a second,” she told him, and he could hear the phone being set on a hard surface, most likely the table. He could hear her faintly in the background, talking to someone.
“Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing awake? No, come on, let’s go back to bed… oh you’re definitely Dana’s kid… stubborn… come on. It’s past your bedtime… Missy…” He imagined her with an exasperated look on her face, but instead heard soft laughter.
“Melissa Samantha Mulder! Child! Go to bed now!” Her words might have sounded harsh had she not giggled them. “Seriously. I know your mommy is going to want you to be asleep when she gets home, because I have a feeling she’s got company… now come on…”
He could hear the baby gurgle as she picked her up, and then a door shut and Meg was back.
“Okay, hi Mr. Mulder, sorry about that. Missy escaped from her little bed. What did you need?”
He knew the baby wouldn’t fall asleep in the crib – it was one of the child’s many quirks. She went to sleep on a blanket on the floor, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, and then had to be put in her crib afterwards.
He had been amazed at how astute Meg was, guessing that Scully was having company. That left him with nothing to say, as he was going to inform her of this so she wouldn’t be caught off-guard by his arrival. “Well… ah… I was just checking to see if you’re okay. We should be there in a little while, and I’ll pay you tonight for the extra time.”
“Oh, coming home already?” Her voice was decidedly teasing, and Mulder was a little shocked at how familiar she was acting. “I’ll have my stuff ready by the door. If you’re already on your way, I have a feeling you’re not gonna want me hanging around any longer than necessary.”
“Ah, yeah… thanks…”
“No problem.” He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was grinning, and imagined it to be a very mischievous grin. “See you soon, Mr. Mulder.”
The call was disconnected and Mulder tossed his cell phone into the passenger’s seat. He braked for a red light, seeing Scully’s fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel in the car in front of him.
Then it hit him.
Melissa Samantha Mulder.
That’s what Meg had called the baby…
He suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his powerful lungs. He said it aloud, testing it. “Melissa Samantha Mulder. Missy. Melissa Mulder.” He grinned with pure joy then. “I like it!” he confirmed aloud.
He had pretty much been sure that he was the baby’s biological father, but had never felt brave enough to ask Scully which name she’d given the child. He had guessed that she’d named her Melissa, as she referred to her as Missy often. But what really touched him was that she’d named her after Samantha as well. And him.
Scully was out of her car and into her apartment building before Mulder even got his seatbelt undone.
But then of course, he was rather distracted as well. It seemed there was a new obstacle since he’d first sat down, one that was due to the rather lengthy flash of leg Scully had given him when she’d held up her skirt getting out of the car.
He began shuffling across the parking lot, thinking rather ruefully that it was a lot harder to walk in dress pants when they suddenly felt two sizes too small.
Scully had gone breezing inside, a cloud of flame, and he wanted her. He loved the way she looked in that dress… but he knew he was going to love the way she looked out of it even more.
His memories were faded, like old photographs, and he was ready to refresh them. He still had a few images that were sharp and crisp… like the way her voice sounded breathy when she finally stopped calling him Mulder and started chanting, “Fox… Fox… Foxfoxfoxfox…” He loved that. He loved hearing his name like a mantra on her lips.
He stopped walking suddenly, biting his lip and making a low moan of pain. He wasn’t making it any easier on himself by remembering these things. Think about something else, Mulder… he told himself.
What else? To him, at that moment, Scully was the only thing in his world.
And then he startled painfully at a young girl’s voice. “Goodnight, Mr. Mulder. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting up…stairs.”
He fixed Meg with a reproving glare but she only laughed impudently at him. “Go on,” she prompted him. “If you don’t I’m afraid you and Dana will both just… spontaneously combust.”
Mulder was amused despite himself. “Did Scully pay you?” he asked, feeling his body slowly returning to a slightly more neutral state, and thankful for it. It was somewhat embarrassing having his lover’s nineteen-year-old babysitter see him in his present state.
“No, but don’t worry about it tonight,” she said with another shamelessly mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t want to put you to the trouble of having to get anything out of your pockets at the moment.”
He thought he might actually blush if she got much more blunt, but had underestimated her completely. Her eyes raked him up and down appreciatively twice, then she licked her lips and he found himself being reminded of Scully’s similar gesture of habit. Painfully reminded, as a matter of fact.
“Dana is one lucky woman,” Meg said in a low voice. “Tell her I said so.”
With that she gave him one last farewell smile – one that actually had an innocent air to it, despite her previous comment – and a jaunty wave. “Enjoy yourself!” she called as she climbed into her car and drove away.
He shook his head as he again began the trek into Scully’s apartment building, sincerely hoping there was no one around. It was relatively early in the evening – only 8:30 – but he had hopes that everyone was out on the town and not lingering around the building. To be seen by the babysitter was bad enough. To be seen by all of Scully’s neighbors… the thought was almost enough to bring him down.
Almost.
Would’ve been, probably, had his memory not been rebellious and dredged up a sudden memory.
“Enjoying yourself?” Scully had asked in a husky voice, her eyes dark and hooded. And yes, yes he had been.
And yes he would be if he could ever get inside.
“I wonder what’s taking your daddy so long,” Scully cooed to the baby as she held her in her arms, gently swaying back and forth so that she would go back to sleep before being placed in the crib.
Meg had been performing this ritual when she’d come up, but Scully had smiled and relieved her, sending the girl on her way.
Melissa gurgled softly in her half-sleep, bumping her nose repeatedly as she tried to find her mouth with her thumb. Scully smiled tenderly, guiding the child’s hand softly and was rewarded with the sound of her even breathing and soft suckling. She was asleep! Scully kissed her forehead with a burst of motherly affection and gently tucked her into the crib.
“Sweet dreams, honey. Mommy’ll try not to be too loud tonight, but try to be a sound sleeper for once would you? I’ve got no guarantees.”
She turned and left her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She and Mulder were either going to have to use the guestroom—which had been converted to a nursery--or the living room. No way was she going to take any more chances than necessary on waking that baby up.
When she turned around, Mulder was standing right behind her, and she jumped. “Jesus, Mulder, you scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her bare shoulder. He had already taken off his coat and shirt, and she felt a shudder run through her body at his beautiful bare chest and shoulders.
She smiled. “Missy’s asleep in my bedroom… we’ll have to find someplace else.”
“Where?” he asked, reaching around her for the zipper on her dress.
“Well, since Missy stole our room, how about we steal hers?”
Mulder wondered absently if she realized she had just called her bedroom “theirs.” He almost brought it to her attention, but then decided he didn’t want to give her a chance to recant. “All right,” he agreed.
He backed her into the nursery, pleased to see that she already had a bed set up that would accommodate them. He tried to put it out of his mind that the walls were decorated with soft, babyish themes, as he almost felt guilty for making love to Scully in their daughter’s room.
Just when he was about to push her back onto the bed, she caught him by surprise, spinning him around and pinning him onto the bed underneath her.
“Ooooh, Scully,” he leered. “I just love it when you take control.”
She laughed at him and stood to let the dress fall around her ankles in a paradox of cool flame. He shivered as he looked at her – she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, as she’d already taken off her shoes and stockings.
“Time to get you out of these clothes,” she grinned, kneeling to unlace his shoes and take them off along with his socks. She stood up and tugged down his pants and boxers, catching his eye with a mischievous glance as his erection practically saluted her.
“Well, hello, Fox Jr.,” she said straight to it. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you. It’s been kinda lonely without you ‘round these parts…”
Mulder’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he laughed in pleasant shock. “Why, Scully! If I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve been into my not-mine video collection while I was out of town!”
She merely grinned at him predatorily as he sat up to push himself further back on the bed. She pounced on him unexpectedly, making him fall back onto the bed with a whoosh. “Ouch!” he cried, and she sat back in surprise.
“What? What is it?”
“Damn alien…” he muttered, reaching underneath him.
“Wha… are you okay?” she asked, panicking as she thought it might have been a test the aliens performed on him. Damn them if they’d made it painful or impossible for him to… but as her mind skittered away from these possibilities, she saw his hand come back out with a small green muppet.
She broke into peals of laughter, clamping her hand over her mouth so that maybe she wouldn’t wake Melissa. “My God, Mulder! You could have told me it was a toy alien, not one of the real ones!”
“Now that would be kinky… real aliens…” Mulder murmured. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen that in any of those videos that aren’t mine. Of course, it’s kinky enough to suddenly realize I’m having my ass kissed by a Jedi Master…”
“Yoda always did seem to have a good taste,” Scully winked at him, and he shook his head as he tossed the toy aside. “Besides, you’re the one who bought Missy that toy.”
“I know, I know,” he conceded, placing his hands on her hips. “Here…” he muttered, and before she knew what was happening he had reversed their positions and was weighing down heavily on top of her.
“Scully?” Mulder murmured as his lips traced lazy circles in the little hollow of Scully’s throat. When he didn’t continue after a few seconds, Scully was compelled to make a little questioning noise, which was the most coherent sound she could manage at the moment, since his delicate fingers were tracing light patterns over her breasts in rhythm to his kisses on her throat.
He still didn’t answer, and she began to get a little annoyed that he actually expected her to make an effort when his touch was making every bit of her insides turn to jelly.
“What, Mulder?” she asked, her voice not coming out nearly as harsh as she’d intended it to. Actually, it came out very breathy as a result of the way her lungs were now desperately campaigning for air because of where Mulder’s hands were starting to go.
“No regrets about tonight?” he asked as he moved from her throat to the sensitive skin behind her ear.
“No…” she moaned, clutching at his smooth, muscular shoulders and arching her back up into him.
She managed to elicit a groan from him at that, and felt the ghost of a smile flit across her lips.
“You’re sure?” he asked huskily, nipping at her collarbone.
“Would you shut up, Mulder?” she growled, reveling in the feel of his smooth back under her palms and of his graceful hands splayed out over her ribs, softly massaging her stomach.
“Mm-mm…” he murmured in negative against her chest as his luscious lips worked their way to the soft white swell of her breast. “But I will change the subject.”
“To what?” she gasped.
“To seducing you…”
“I think it’s a little late for that… I’m already seduced.”
He looked up at her then, grinning, one lock of hair falling over his forehead. Oh he was beautiful.
“No harm in incapacitating you a little more…”
“I’m sure there’s plenty of harm in it…”
He ignored her and began moving his hands across her body in magical ways as he recited in a low, intense voice,
“So let us melt, and make no noise--”
“A little late for that last bit…” she murmured, somewhat incoherently. Once again, he simply overlooked her comment.
“But we, by a love so much refin’d, That our selves know not what it is, Enter assured of the mind, Care less eyes, lips, hands to miss.
Our souls, therefore, which are one… If they be two, they are two so as stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul the fix’d foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if th’other do. And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam…”
“Which is entirely too often… when you ditch me,” she was complaining when his hand found a spot that made speech practically impossible for a moment.
“It leans, and hearkens after it--”
“Yes, I do…” she whispered, feeling compelled to answer his poetry even though he was ignoring her commentary.
“And grows erect as that comes home…”
“No that’s your part,” she commented, smiling wryly. He cracked a smile that time, but kept on.
“Such wilt thou be to me… Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.”
“Beautiful,” she whispered, her head lolling to the side to allow his lips access to the side of her neck.
“John Donne,” he told her, nuzzling her ear.
“No, I meant you,” she laughed, kissing his shoulder.
“Another…” he muttered, kissing and nuzzling her hairline, glad she couldn’t see his blush. He’d never been called ‘beautiful’ before that he could recall.
“Another?” she complained mildly, wanting his mouth on her, not speaking to her.
“Yes… to be accompanied by motion, if I can keep my faculty of speech throughout.”
Scully’s eyes glinted in anticipation. “All right.”
He positioned himself carefully above her, eased into her, and then began moving in sweet torture, in perfect rhythm with the cadence of his voice.
“He fumbles at your spirit, As players at the keys, Before they drop full music on – He stuns you by degrees.”
He stopped speaking to kiss her deeply then but kept moving, delighting to the sounds of her gasps. She was coming quickly this time. He smiled, gazing into the blue depths of her eyes.
"Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow... by fainter hammers... further heard... then nearer... then so...slow..."
She was close, so close… his own breath was coming in short gasps and he was wondering if he would be able to hold out. He moved his hand down to the joining of their bodies and concentrated on finishing the poem he’d begun reciting.
“Your breath has time to straighten… your brain to bubble cool… Deals one… imperial… thunderbolt…”
She arched violently upwards at that, gasping his name and clenching around him. It brought him over the edge and he buried his face in her shoulder, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. When it had subsided, he whispered into her hair, “…That scalps your naked soul.”
When he made no motion, she murmured into his neck, "Fox Mulder?"
He shook his head slightly, burrowing deeper into her hair. "Emily Dickinson."
"Beautiful."
"You are."
She sighed, running her fingertips up and down his spine that was hot-cold with the fire of their love-making and the ice of his sweat. “Nothin’ but net,” she breathed with contentment, and he laughed. “Pretty good ball control, Agent Mulder.” He did laugh then. After a few moments, she murmured lazily, “Mulder?”
“Yeah?” he responded, not moving from where he still lay atop her, his face in her hair.
“You do have rhythm.”
He did pull back slightly then so that he could see her face. He smiled, genuinely pleased. “It’s all because of those baby blues,” he told her, tracing the corner of her eyes.
“We’re a good pair,” she sighed as he rolled away from her and tugged a blanket over them, spooning around her.
“Rhythm and blues,” he agreed.
*~*The End*~*
"So you see, in the end, our truest opinions are not those we never change, but those to which we most often return." - The Misadventures of Margaret.
