Big Deals (part 5 of 13)

by Mik

"So, you're going to Larry King Live?" Scully's eyes were wide with wonder, which was trying to overshadow her anxiety.

"Only if I can take you and introduce you as my wife," Mulder countered, semi-seriously.

"I wish you would stop that," Scully scolded. "You're really going to hurt Walt's feelings some day."

"It was his idea," Mulder insisted, swinging into the clinic's parking lot. "He said it would work better with a conservative audience. I'm going to introduce him when I'm on Howard Stern."

Scully shook her head ruefully. "Mulder, to this day, I'm never sure when you're serious."

"I'm always serious," he answered, with a grin that did not overshadow his irritation. He did not want to go inside. He did not want to have any encounters with Dr. Hanson. But, he had promised Scully he'd be there, holding her hand. He pulled the brake and pushed his door open in the same fluid motion. He climbed out and darted around the car. "Excited?" he asked as he opened her door.

"And terrified," she admitted.

He squeezed her fingers. "What did Maggie say?"

Scully shrugged. "She's glad it's you, if it's going to be anyone."

"Ah." He held the door for her, and sent his eyes around. There was no one in the waiting room. He held back as Scully went up to the receptionist's window and gave the woman her name. Then she came back to sit beside him on one of those naugahyde covered benches. He turned and looked down at her. "Are you sure you want me to go in with you?" he said, uncomfortably. "It seems like such an invasion of your privacy."

Her fingers curled around his hand. "I don't want to go through this alone, Mulder, but if you're scared -"

His hand tightened over hers. "Liver eating mutants couldn't scare me away, if you need me," he answered lightly, but he meant every word. "Oh, by the way …" He tugged his checkbook out and handed a folded slip of paper to her.

"Mulder, I really didn't -"

"I know, but I did," he said, cutting her off. He grinned at her. "Don't worry. It won't bounce."

A door opened. "Miss Scully?"

They looked at each other and stood. Mulder hung back and let her go through the door first, and then frowned down at the nurse who looked as if she might prevent him from following.

Scully was sent into an exam room to change, and Mulder waited out in the hallway, leaning against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets. What in the hell am I doing here? he wondered.

"Mr. Mulder."

Mulder stiffened. He didn't even have to turn to recognize the voice. Did the man have to be so obviously glad to see him? "Doctor Hanson," he said tightly.

"I didn't know you'd be here today," Dr. Hanson said, sounding like a little boy who had gotten exactly what he wanted for his birthday. "You've already done your part."

As if jerking off in a jar is the sum and total of my part of fatherhood. "I'm not done until the kid graduates," Mulder said tightly. "Is she ready?"

"Interesting relationship you two have," Dr. Hanson murmured, glancing at a chart. "How does..." he let his bright blue eyes dip toward Mulder's left hand. "How does he feel about it?"

"He's going to be the father of her next one," Mulder answered. He leaned forward just enough to pique the doctor's interest. "He's also going to flatten you one of these days," he whispered.

Dr. Hanson just chuckled. He reached for the door to the exam room. "This way …" he looked at the chart again. "Fox."

Mulder felt his face burn, but for Scully's sake, he said nothing.

He didn't need to. Scully, already in a gown, and up in stirrups, sat up awkwardly, and said, "Don't call him Fox."

Mulder smiled at her gratefully.

Dr. Hanson didn't seem terribly remorseful. He indicated a stool near the exam table. "Have a seat." His eyes twinkled as he folded the sheets back. "Do you want to watch?"

Mulder barely kept himself from shuddering. That was too great an invasion of Scully's privacy. Watching the nurse handling the syringes, carrying his 'genetic material', he felt he was already invading her enough. He sat and turned toward Scully's face. He held out his hand to her. He didn't want to see what was going on.

Scully took his hand, with a little smile and a flash of gratitude. Whatever they did, it made her wince, and her fingers clench. He just kept focused on her eyes, and tried to look reassuring. This is what she wanted. This is what was going to make her happy. This is what was going to give her back some of what was stolen from her.

It didn't really take that long, but while it was taking place, it seemed to go on forever. All he was aware of was the antiseptic smell, the clattering of instruments, and her occasional whimper, or tightening of her fingers. Finally, the nurse leaned over her, and murmured some instructions that Mulder didn't catch. Dr. Hanson put a hand on his shoulder. "Just have her stay still for about forty five minutes," he instructed, and then squeezed a little.

Mulder bit down on his lip, still looking at Scully, and resisted an urge to shrug the doctor's hand away. He waited until the door shut behind them. "You okay?" he asked softly.

She was crying. He hated to see tears in her eyes. He wanted to hurt the people that put them there. Then she smiled and, in his eyes, the tears became diamonds on her cheeks. "I'm so happy."

He felt the tears in his eyes and he blinked them away. "Then, I'm happy," he promised her.

"Thank you for doing this, Mulder."

He shrugged carelessly. "Hey, how could I say no?"

"Do you want me to talk to Dr. Hanson?" she offered suddenly.

Mulder looked at her sharply. Was it so obvious? "What about?" he asked obliquely.

"About being so familiar with you?" she persisted. "I know it makes you uncomfortable."

Familiar. What a nice way to put it. "Of course not," he assured her. "I'm a big boy."

"Yeah, I know." She used her free hand to wipe tears from her eyes. "Would you look at us? Have we come a long way from the day I first walked into that basement?"

"Yeah." He surprised her by grinning. "I'd still like to know who you pissed off to get that assignment."

Her laugh was soft, and deep in her throat. "I don't know, but if I find out, I'm sending them a big Christmas present." She sobered slightly. "When are you going to tell Walt?"

"When we're sure," Mulder said.

"Well, that might be a few months from now," Scully warned him, shifting awkwardly.

Mulder nodded. "I know. If the timing's right, maybe for his birthday. Or," he grinned again. "How about Father's Day?"

"Mulder, what if he -"

"Shh, no 'what ifs' allowed," he admonished softly. "Kat and I have this agreement, and I think it's time you and I had the same; no apologies and no second-guessing. Fair enough?"

"Kat." She giggled. She was giggling a lot today. "He doesn't seem like a Kat to me."

"He doesn't seem like a Walt to me." Mulder shifted on the stool. "He doesn't like it when I call him Walter. He says I can't say it without sounding sarcastic. And he is a Kat, a great big lion, or something. With sharp teeth and a big roar."

"But no mane," Scully observed.

Mulder laughed out loud. "No."

"Actually, if bald eagles wore glasses, that's what he would be," Scully decided dreamily.

"Uh...Scully, did they give you any medication?" Mulder asked cautiously. But, she was right. That's exactly what Skinner was; a big, proud, all-American bald eagle.

"So...how are things?" she asked. "Any better?"

Mulder shrugged. "I think so. He gave me a nice homecoming, when we got back from Chicago. Did you know he took Kim out to dinner while we were gone?"

"Kim?" Scully frowned. "Our Kim?"

"No, his Kim," Mulder corrected.

Scully's face was shuttered. "Oh, dear."

Mulder shrugged. "You know, in a lot of ways, she's really perfect for him. She's a lot more agreeable than I am. She's certainly more respectful; of him, of politics, of regulations. And, she's got better legs."

"Are you ready to let him go?" Scully asked sadly.

"Hell, no."

Scully laughed at his emphatic response. "So, are you going to fight her for him?"

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything. He's got a right to do what makes him happy."

"You've got a right to fight for your marriage, too," Scully pointed out, with the sharpness of a mother defending her child.

Mulder drew a deep breath. "Let's change the subject. Have you thought about names?"

"Mulder, I've been pregnant about twenty minutes."

Mulder just looked at her knowingly.

"Well, if it's a boy..."

"Fox better not be anywhere in that sentence," Mulder threatened.

"Oh, no." Her expression was serious and sincere. "I was thinking Ahab."

"Ishmael," Mulder suggested.

She nodded. "I like it. Ishmael William Scully Mulder."

Mulder's smile was rueful as he shook his head. "You know, he's going to hate us."

"And if it's a girl..." Her eyes were twinkling wickedly.

"Vixen?" Mulder guessed.

She giggled again.

Mulder liked seeing her laugh. It happened so rarely. She looked young, innocent, indecently happy. He had helped her feel that way. It made his heart ache a little in an alien pleasure. "I lean toward Scarlet, myself. Scarlet Scully Mulder. Sounds like a tropical bird."

"We could name her after Walter," Scully offered. "What's his middle name?"

"Sorry." Mulder shook his head. "I'm sworn to secrecy. What about Maggie?"

Scully shook her head. "Too many Margarets in our family already. That's why Missy and I weren't named after her. What about your mom?"

Mulder winced. He had not figured his mother into the equation. "In the first place, I doubt my mother wants to be a grandmother, much less a namesake. In the second place, she'd never understand this."

"So, you're not going to tell her?" Scully looked sad and a little angry.

"Oh, I'll tell her," Mulder promised. "But after the fact. Sort of a fait accomplait."

"What about Samantha?" Scully offered.

Mulder shook his head. "I'll never quite get past the fear that the name is jinxed." He paused, waiting to put his feelings under control. "No, let's go with something simple, something she won't grow up to hate."

"That shows you how little you know about girls, Mulder. We like unusual names."

"Then I want to name her Scarlet," Mulder insisted, but he was smiling again. "But his name has to be something simple. Like John, or - or Daniel. Daniel would be good."

"Okay, Mulder." She reached for his fingers again. "Daniel or Scarlet."

He shook her hand as if they were closing a deal.

She laughed. "You know we'll change our minds a hundred times before the baby gets here."

"The poor bastard will probably end up being named Rupert Emmanuel because we ate pizza the night he was born, and had bad dreams," Mulder warned.

***************************************

Skinner wasn't home when Mulder got in that night. He had driven Scully home, and lingered to make sure she went directly to bed, as ordered by Dr. Hanson. Then he had gone back to Virginia, to the big white house in the middle of the street.

As he was getting his briefcase and dry cleaning out of the back of the car, he heard a cheery 'Good evening' behind him. He turned. Looking over the fence was a pair of brown eyes, and a fringe of blond bangs. "Hello," he said. He hadn't had any contact with any of the neighbors, yet. He was a little nervous about what they must be thinking behind their white lace curtains about the two men who moved in.

"I'm Georgette Phillips." A slim brown hand came over the fence.

"Fox Mulder," he reciprocated.

She didn't seem to react to his name. "Well, what do you think of the house?"

"It's big," he said carefully.

"I know." She was smiling. He couldn't see her mouth, but he could see it in her eyes. "I looked at it when it first came on the market. With three kids, a bigger house would be a Godsend, but I couldn't afford it. I'm glad someone did, though. I hated having an empty house next to me."

"Three kids?" Mulder leaned against the car. He hadn't noticed any kids, next door, anywhere in the neighborhood. Of course, it was the dead of winter, and he worked late every night.

"Oh, they're not here right now," she explained easily. "Two are with their dad, and the other one's away at school. But they'll be back in a couple of weeks, and then you'll know they're around, believe me. They're hard to miss. What about you? No kids?"

He shook his head. Not yet.

The brow under the yellow fringe crinkled up. "Why did you guys want such a big house, then?"

Mulder shrugged negligibly. "He's a big guy. He needs room to stretch out."

"He seems nice."

Mulder didn't mean to sound incredulous. "Have you met him?"

"Oh, yeah, while you were in Chicago. He was working in the yard one day. I hope you don't mind, but I brought him cookies and milk. He was looking a little lost without you."

Skinner with cookies and milk? Mulder would have given his entire credit union balance to see that. "I don't mind. I appreciate it. I can't always be here to look after him."

She was smiling again. "You two make a cute couple."

Mulder smirked. "Thanks, I think."

"I mean it. My brother's gay, and he and his boyfriend kind of give me the creeps. You two seem so … normal."

"Thanks. It's just an act."

"Oh, I didn't mean to -"

"No, no, it's not you." Mulder held up a hand. "I'm new to this. I get oversensitive."

"I can understand that. Some people can be pretty intolerant. My ex is like that." She brushed blond bangs out of her eyes. "So, are you a lawyer, or something?"

He shook his head. "I work for the F.B.I."

"Oh, so you two met at work?"

He nodded. Skinner must have been lonely to be so chatty.

She was smiling again. "Kind of romantic, isn't it?"

"Kind of," he agreed warily.

"He told me you two were married."

Mulder's mouth fell open. He'd be posting it on the Internet next. "Yeah," he admitted, dazed. "Last December."

"Oh, newlyweds," she cooed. "No wonder you bought a house. Couldn't take the 'your place or mine?' thing?"

Mulder nodded, jerkily.

"Yeah, my ex and I went through that. Unfortunately for me, we didn't buy a new place. I made the mistake of moving into his place. The ghosts of his ex-wives, haunting it..." She shook her head. "You two were smart."

"Well, his ex-wife is still haunting us, but she's a good spirit, so she doesn't give us much trouble," Mulder said, wryly.

"He was married before?" The question was really, he had a wife - a female one?

Mulder nodded. "You're looking at the trophy blond," he said with a self deprecating smile.

She laughed. She had a nice, unaffected laugh. "You're a trophy, all right," she agreed. "You'd better be careful. That guy you're married to is pretty possessive of you. He even warned me off, sort of. I can see why, of course." She made a lip smacking sound. "You know, my brother's boyfriend would eat you up with a spoon."

"I don't work well with a spoon," Mulder responded, trying to keep his tone light when the conversation weighed so heavy. "I'm too slippery."

"I'll tell him he'd better use a fork with you," Georgette countered, still laughing.

"If he does, your brother will probably take a knife to me," Mulder returned. "I'd better stick to what I've got - and so should he." From the corner of his eye, he saw the headlights of Skinner's Lexus swinging into the drive. The cavalry at last! "Anyway," he began, trying to start a 'it was nice to meet you' speech.

"Chaz and Clive will be here on Sunday," Georgette informed him. "Why don't you and Walt come over, get acquainted?" They both turned at the sound of Skinner's car door slamming.

Chaz and Clive. Jeesh, how precious. "I'll have to see what his plans are," Mulder said apologetically. Was everyone in the tri state area either gay or related to someone who was? "I don't socialize much without him. As you said, he's pretty possessive."

Skinner was coming down the drive toward them, almost smiling. "Oh, Georgette, I see you met my better half," he said, drawing an arm across Mulder's shoulders.

"I can see why you were pining last week," Georgette said.

"He wasn't pining for me," Mulder scoffed. "He was pining for milk and cookies. Next week he'll be moping for pie a la mode."

"This from a man who thinks that sunflower seeds are a major food group," Skinner answered, ruffling Mulder's hair.

"I was inviting him over to dinner on Sunday," Georgette explained with a little giggle. "You, too, of course."

"Chaz and Clive are coming," Mulder explained.

Skinner pretended to give it thought. "I don't know if we'll have finished those reports for Ashcroft by then. I promised we'd deliver them on Monday morning."

Mulder made an exasperated face, even though he was sagging in relief. "Don't I ever get a weekend off?" He looked back at Georgette. "The guy's a bigger slave driver now than before we got married. Never," he warned, dramatically. "Ever marry your boss."

"We'd better go in," Skinner said. "It's freezing and I'm hungry. Good night, Georgette."

"Nice meeting you," Mulder said, letting Skinner take the dry cleaning from his fingers. "I hope you brought dinner," he added as they climbed the back steps.

"I was thinking we'd go out," Skinner said, letting Mulder use his keys. "I'm in the mood for a nice, thick steak."

Mulder wasn't in the mood to go out. He'd had his share of 'out' for the week. He wanted to curl up in Skinner's arms and watch John Wayne save the world. "Fine," he said, stepping back, letting Skinner go in first. "Did you really promise Ashcroft some reports?"

"Did you really want to go to dinner with Chaz and Clive?" Skinner countered. Skinner put his briefcase on the kitchen table and went through to the living room. "You've got messages!" he called.

Mulder stayed in the kitchen, staring nowhere in particular. Just for a moment, he could still feel Hanson's fingers on his shoulder, hear Georgette's knowing little giggle. For years he had managed to avoid social interaction, hiding behind the sobriquet Spooky. Then he let Scully into his life, and his heart got turned upside down. Now Skinner was working on other organs. He didn't need anyone else in his life, in any form or function. He just wanted to shut the rest of the world out, let Skinner hold him while he dreamed of Scully.

***************************************

"Are you going to change?" Skinner couldn't help be concerned. Mulder was standing in the kitchen, keys dripping from one hand, briefcase from the other, looking dazed.

Skinner had been on red alert since he pulled into the driveway and saw Mulder, leaning casually against his car, chatting with that bleach blond vulture from next door. His antlers came out, and he went out of his way to show Georgette and anyone who might be eavesdropping that Fox Mulder was his. He knew it had irritated Mulder, but he couldn't help it. The divorcee was man-hungry. He knew it when she came over with milk and cookies that afternoon the week before. Skinner deliberately went into evasive action, letting her know early in the conversation that the man he lived with was more than just a casual fling. He chattered like a woman, giving her enough gossip and details so that Georgette Phillips would have no doubt that neither he nor Mulder were available for blonde sitting.

And then she floored him by warning him to keep Mulder tethered when her brother was around. It turned out that Chaz was gay, too, and his current boyfriend, Clive, had a tendency to stray, and seemed to have extraordinary luck convincing others to stray with him. It wasn't that Skinner thought Mulder might willingly stray, he just didn't want anyone trying to tempt him.

"Kit? Are you going to change, or not?" he repeated impatiently, reaching for Mulder's briefcase.

Mulder reacted, startled. "Sorry." He turned and shuffled toward the stairs. "I'll be right down."

Skinner frowned. He became more convinced, on a daily basis, that something was wrong with either Scully or Mulder or both. Two interesting cases had come up this week, two cases that might make Mulder dive in impulsively, and then file the paperwork later. But no 302 had come across his desk. Mulder hadn't even mentioned them during table talk, or any of those wonderful, drowsy dissertations he treated Skinner to as they drifted off to sleep some nights. Mulder had been a hermit, in his basement office, clearing out files, bringing expense reports up to date. He and Scully had been behaving like a couple of Peck's Bad Boys on report; showing up on time every day, freshly scrubbed and respectful, following the rules until the minute their detention was over. He dreaded the moment they broke through. And, he looked forward to it.

Suddenly, he remembered Scully's request that he not find any X-Files this week. "How did Dana's procedure go?" he asked, coming into the bedroom behind Mulder.

Mulder stiffened. "Fine," he said, going into his closet. He came out a few minutes later with a sweater draped over his arm, and a hanger for his suit. "How was your day?"

"Oh, not too bad. By the way, I looked over your contract again," Skinner told him, tugging off his own jacket. "I think we can get you out of Larry King, if you still want that."

Mulder stepped out of his slacks and put them onto the hanger carefully. "I want." He put his cufflinks away and hung up his tie. "And also by the way, there's a request for personal leave coming up to your desk. I'm doing a book signing next Friday, at the Barnes and Noble on Broadway, in New York." He tossed his shirt into the hamper, and flicked a glance that might have been hopeful toward Skinner. "It's just the one day. Do you think you could go with me? We could spend the night there."

Skinner considered it. "I think that would be a great idea. I'll see what I can do with my schedule." He already knew he was going. He watched Mulder shimmy into a pair of jeans, and tug a charcoal gray sweater over his head. "Have you seen the book yet?"

Mulder shook his head. "Supposedly they shipped me a couple of dozen comp copies last month, but they went to my old address, and then were probably forwarded to the condo, and now they're lost in postal hell." He dragged his fingers through his hair, adjusting the collar of his sweater. "I do know there is no photo of me on the dust jacket."

"That might be a mistake, Kit. That would sell a lot of copies right there," Skinner observed.

Mulder shook his head. "I don't think it's necessary. There's a big interest in forensic evidence right now. That ought to be enough. If not …" He shrugged. "I'll put one on the next book."

Skinner realized that Mulder hadn't discussed the new book lately. "How's it coming?"

"Oh, we're just working on notes right now." Mulder looked up from his search for shoes under the bed, amazed and annoyed. "It's harder to write with a partner. When I wrote the other one, I just let things fall out of my brain onto the keyboard. Scully's more organized than I am. She wants a storyboard." He grinned. "We'll do it her way, you know."

Skinner nodded. Scully, the immovable force.

Mulder looked up from the laces of his Doc Martens. "I thought you were going to change."

Skinner nodded again, and got out chinos and a shirt and sweater. It didn't take him long to change and to hang up his suit. "We need to do laundry this weekend," he said, observing the overflowing hamper. He didn't mind. When Mulder wanted to, he could make laundry an event.

"Do we really have reports to turn into Ashcroft?" Mulder asked a second time.

"I do," Skinner confirmed.

Mulder stood, and tugged his sweater down. He looked lean, fit, youthful, full of fire, and Skinner wanted to knock him down on the bed right there. "You want some help with them?" he offered, oblivious to the rising lust in Skinner's eyes.

"No, that's okay. I just used it as an excuse to keep you from Clive's clutches."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Do you believe that woman? She's about as subtle as a red-tailed baboon." He looked at Skinner's surprised expression and explained, "She doesn't really want us to play nice with Chaz and Clive. She wants us to try and prove we're not like them, so we'll show her lots of affection and attention." He flicked a hand. "It's an old ploy, a classic. It's usually done the other way around, though."

"Doctor, you frighten me," Skinner said, stepping into a pair of Cole Hahn loafers.

"It's the world at large that's frightening," Mulder said. "I like it better in here." He surprised Skinner by reaching for him, and resting his chin on Skinner's shoulder. "Safer."

Skinner wrapped his arms around Mulder for a moment, savoring his warmth, his nearness, his scent. "Okay, we'll be safe after dinner. Come on, I made reservations at Dickeys."

Mulder backed up, his green eyes bright with incredulous laughter. "Dickeys?"

"Mulder, what hole have you been living in for the past fifteen years?" Skinner demanded, exasperated. "Dickeys is one of the most popular steakhouses in Virginia. It's world famous. It has its own web page." He nudged Mulder forward. "Let's go."

Mulder looked down at his sweater and faded jeans with concern. "Am I dressed okay?"

Skinner studied him, trying to be impartial. "You're perfect. Come on, you'll like this place. Really." He pushed again. Mulder relaxed and looped an arm through Skinner's. "Very good. Let's go."

Mulder was quiet on the twenty minute drive. He seemed to be scanning the clear sky. The hair at the back of Skinner's neck prickled. Did Mulder expect something to happen? Things had been so calm, so boring lately. No one had shot Mulder, or poisoned him, or threatened Scully with death in a metal chip. No stray relatives (or clones thereof) had shown up. No one was breathing down his neck to keep his wayward boy in line. Something was bound to happen. "What's the matter, Kit?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. "Expecting visitations tonight?"

Mulder shook his head, distracted. "Just looking at the stars. We can see more from our new neighborhood than I could in Alexandria. I guess we're farther away from the city lights."

Skinner reached over and rubbed Mulder's thigh. "Are you all right, Kit? You seem unusually introspective."

"And that is a bad thing?" Mulder said, letting his brow ride up. "No, actually, I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed again. Scully's doctor is a little jerk with raging hormones. And that new neighbor of ours … I'm feeling surrounded. Everywhere I turn, someone else turns out to be gay."

That's the fourth time he's mentioned this doctor. What's going on? Should I talk to Dana? "What did Scully's doctor do this time?"

"Nothing, really." Mulder's shrug was almost helpless. "He's just so … familiar."

"Do you want me to pay him a little visit?" Skinner suggested, gruffly. He could be very intimidating, he knew that.

"Oh, no," Mulder said too quickly. "Quit trying to fight my battles for me," he complained. "I've managed this far."

"Yes, but up until now, you didn't have this extra issue to deal with," Skinner countered.

"According to you, I always did, I was just blissfully ignorant," Mulder answered with a shiver.

"Cold?" Skinner started to adjust the temperature.

"No." Mulder was rubbing his arms. "I was just thinking about some of the encounters I've had over the years, and looking at them in a new light."

"For instance?" Skinner probed. He really didn't want to know, but then, he knew he had to know.

Mulder shook his head. "None of them are important."

"Kit …" There was a warning edge in Skinner's voice.

Mulder recognized it and reacted. "All right, I'm thinking specifically about Alex Krycek," he spit out.

Skinner's gut tightened. Krycek, that little green-eyed bastard. He'd been so eager to be close to Mulder. Was it more than the consortium at work there? "Did he ever…"

"I don't know." Mulder's voice was just short of a whine. "I mean, how would I know? But, now, I'm second-guessing everything." He was quiet for a minute. "He kissed me once."

Skinner slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding to the right. "He what?"

Mulder was scrambling for the dashboard, trying to stay upright. "Jeesh, Kat, take it easy."

"When did this happen?" Skinner was already plotting to pull strings and arrange to have the rest of Krycek's appendages removed - all of them.

"A few months ago." Mulder's voice was shaky but his demeanor was reserved. "I told you he broke into my apartment, told me about that truck moving an alien out of an Army base. That's how Scully and I got arrested the last time." He rubbed his cheek distractedly. "After he told me, he kissed me on the cheek. I thought it was like a Judas kiss at the time. It probably was."

"If he ever comes near you again..."

"I'll shoot him," Mulder promised flatly.

Skinner eased back onto the tollway. "I wish you had told me about that sooner. It's obviously been bothering you for a while."

"Well, it bothered me because of what had happened between us just before," Mulder confessed. "I was wondering if I was sending out signals or something."

"You aren't. You don't," Skinner reassured him. They drove in silence for a while. Skinner's skin was burning. He couldn't stand the idea of anyone, man or woman, touching Mulder. His jealousy was getting more pronounced every day. He wondered if Mulder was going through the same thing, but he doubted it. Mulder just wasn't given to jealousy. He'd actually given Skinner leave to date Kim, as if their relationship was just a casual thing, instead of a legally binding marriage. Skinner hadn't quite forgiven him for that. For that reason, his voice was sharp as he pulled into the parking lot. "Here we are."

Mulder flicked a surprised look at him.

They were seated across from each other. The restaurant was dark and loud and friendly. The waitresses wore short, white skirts and big smiles. "So, what is it, boy's night out?" their waitress asked, sending them both the big smile. "What can I get for you, honey?" she asked Mulder.

Mulder ordered a beer. Skinner took his requisite scotch. They both ordered steaks and salads. Mulder looked around, his long fingers tapping on the tabletop.

"You like it?" Skinner asked eagerly. Dickeys had been a favorite of his and Sharon's. He wanted it to be a part of his life with Mulder, too.

"I like the music," Mulder said.

Skinner listened. It was loud, eighties era rock and roll, vaguely familiar as something Skinner didn't care for. Probably some of that stuff that Mulder had moved to his office after they got married. "They've got dancing in the other room," he said. "You wouldn't have any trouble getting someone to dance with you."

Mulder surprised him with an emphatic shake of his head. "It's you or no one."

"I doubt they'd let us get away with it, here," Skinner said, his mood lightening. "Maybe when we got home?"

Mulder nodded, still tapping his fingers on the table. "You know, I never dated a girl who was tall enough to be comfortable dancing with me. You're perfect."

Skinner thought he might blush. That was probably the nicest thing Mulder had ever said to him.

***************************************

By the time they got home, after stopping at the video store, and deciding they had a better selection of John Wayne movies at home, Skinner was ready to jump on Mulder on the stairwell. Throughout dinner, Mulder had been quiet, but with little flashes of straight-faced humor, and touches of angst that kept Skinner's eyes riveted on his expressive face. God, he loved this man. And he wanted him. Watching him pick tomatoes out of his salad, trim bits from his steak and arrange them on his plate, poke around at his potato as if he was performing an autopsy; these habits might have been maddening a year ago, now they were so familiar and endearing. He draped his arms around Mulder from behind as Mulder locked the back door. "Let's go upstairs and have a fire."

"I know what that means," Mulder chuckled, twisting in Skinner's arms. "But, I don't know what I'm up for. My back is still killing me from the other night. I didn't even run yesterday."

"Oh, you poor, decrepit old man." Skinner smacked his bottom, gently. "Get upstairs and I'll give you a back rub."

"It's a deal." Mulder was taking the stairs two at a time.

Skinner went through the house, setting the alarms, checking the lights, noticing that Mulder still had a dozen messages on his machine. For crying out loud, Kit, don't you ever return phone calls?

Mulder had washed his face, brushed his teeth, and undressed, stretched out on his stomach, his head cradled in his arms, his ankles crossed. What a sight, Skinner thought from the door, catching his breath. A long, lean body full of feline grace, and brimming with subconscious sensuality. And to think it was all his, legally.

Skinner settled on the bed at his side, running his hands down Mulder's spine. "Where does it hurt?" he asked, putting a little pressure in the concave area above his buttocks. "Here?"

"Mmm," Mulder said, non-committally.

Skinner brushed the spot under his shoulder blades. (Who would have thought that could be an erogenous zone?) "Here?"

"Mmm mmm."

He slid his fingers down Mulder's ass, slipping his fingers into the cleft. "Here?"

Mulder answered with a little sigh and turned his head to look at Skinner. His eyes were half open and full of heat.

Skinner felt that heat at the base of his spine and decided to probe. "This? Is this what you wanted?"

"Interesting definition of a back rub, Kat," Mulder said drowsily, stretching his muscles.

"Let me change." Skinner stepped away from the bed to rid himself of his chinos and sweater. The loose pants had become extremely constricting in the past few minutes. He came back to the bed, naked, and stretched out on his side, next to Mulder. With one strong hand, he worked the muscles knotted around Mulder's spine. Mulder answered with an occasional groan of approval and appreciation. "So, what happened at the doctor's office today?" Skinner asked, trying to start a conversation that would keep Mulder awake.

The knots beneath his fingers tightened. "Nothing."

"I meant to Scully," Skinner amended, in a soothing voice.

"I'm not sure." Mulder's voice was muffled. "I wasn't looking. I was looking at her face."

"Oh, so it was …" Skinner rubbed a little harder. In eighteen years of marriage, he had never gone into the exam room with Sharon. She never asked, but even if she had, he would have refused. Mulder went willingly, and sat there, and held Scully's hand, with no revulsion nor curiosity.

"Yeah." Mulder rubbed his nose, twisted his head and looked at Skinner briefly. "She's okay. This was supposed to be routine. Uncomfortable, but routine." He lowered his head to his arms again.

"So, this book signing next week, are you excited?" Skinner's fingers slipped lower on Mulder's back.

"No."

"No? What did you write it for?"

"The money?"

Skinner gave him a light smack on the bottom. "Stop talking like that. You don't need it."

"Sure I do. I'm going to need something to fall back on when you dump me for your next trophy wife."

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily," Skinner warned, into Mulder's ear.

"Oh, good."

Skinner sent his fingers probing and caressing again.

Mulder laughed softly. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Skinner returned.

"No." Mulder wiggled a little. "Is it working?"

Skinner laughed. "I'm shamelessly easy."

"I know. It's one of your charms." He wiggled again.

Skinner leaned down and bit Mulder, gently, on the rise of his left cheek. "You don't have to work that hard. I'm a sure thing."

Mulder turned his head toward Skinner. "A dead cert."

Skinner looked up. "What?"

"A dead cert. That's what we called girls in England who were...ah...notorious."

"And how many 'dead certs' did you know?" Skinner asked with a scowl.

"Define 'knew'."

"Mulder..."

"Hey, you know my history. There were several in my circle of acquaintance, however, I didn't know any in the Biblical sense - unless you count Phoebe."

"Should I?"

"No. As far as I know, she was fairly faithful during our time together," Mulder was rocking his hips back against Skinner's hand.

"Fairly faithful?" Skinner probed.

Mulder lifted his head again. "Kat, if you're planning to get laid tonight, stop talking about Phoebe. She's a guaranteed passion killer." He frowned. "By the way, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Planning to get laid."

"Oh, yes."

"Oh, good." Mulder lowered his head again.

"Kit." Skinner leaned up and whispered into Mulder's ear. "I want to be in you tonight."

Mulder was quiet for a long time. Then, with a sigh that could have been contentment or irritation, he rolled over onto his back. He said nothing, his eyes were closed, but there was a little hint of a smile on his lips, a smile that was almost coquettish in nature.

Skinner eased over him, kissing him. He felt his desire surge in powerful waves as he slid his hands over Mulder's chest, hips, groin. Mulder kissed back, drowning Skinner in wet passion, his long fingers sliding up and over Skinner's shoulders, the back of his neck, down his spine.

When he pulled his mouth away to breathe, Mulder opened his eyes and smiled again. "You're the perfect size for this, too."

- END part 5 of 13 -
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