Date:  March 11, 2002
Title:  "Second Honeymoon"
Author:  Catmom
Rating:  PG
Spoilers:  Season 7
I started listing all the episodes that are referenced in this story, 
but there are far too many.  Feel free to email me with the ones you 
find.  No cash prize awarded to the winner, but I'll see what I can come 
up with.  There's no real purpose to this story.  I just felt like 
writing some fluff.
Classification:  SR; M/S Romance
Summary:  What warm weather can do to our favorite agents.
Disclaimer:  The X Files and its characters belong to Chris Carter and a 
few other folks.  Let's hope their mothers taught them to share.
Archive:  Well, if CC can share, so can I.  Just tell me where so I can 
visit.
Feedback:  Always welcome to Momof4cats@aol.com


SECOND HONEYMOON


FRIDAY, MARCH 31, 2000
8:15 a.m.
J. EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C.

	
"No, she's not in yet.  It was her turn to buy coffee and eclairs, but 
I'd imagine she'll be in soon," Special Agent Fox Mulder told his boss, 
Assistant Director Walter Skinner, as he tried to take off his blue suit 
coat with the telephone crunched between his shoulder and ear.
	
"Come up to my office before your first bite.  I need to talk to both of 
you immediately," Skinner ordered.
	
"Yes, sir," Mulder said into the white headset, but he had heard 
Skinner's end of the telephone click off already.  Mulder hung up the 
telephone and put his suit coat on the back of his chair.  He 
contemplated just how long it would take him to eat his eclair, how much 
extra time walking the four flights of stairs up to Skinner's office 
would buy him as opposed to taking the elevator, and would Skinner 

really know if Mulder disobeyed orders and ate the eclair first.  He was 
in the mood for a soft, gooey eclair.

	
And just as his mind temporarily slipped into thinking what else might 
be soft to bite into, Dana Scully walked into their office.  <Speak of 
the devil> he thought to himself.


8:25 a.m.
	
"The Police Chief is an old college buddy of Kersh's, John Maxwell.  
Personally, I think Maxwell is blowing this whole thing out of 
proportion, but Deputy Director Kersh would rather be safe than sorry.  
So he told me to send down my best," Skinner mentioned as he handed 
Mulder and Scully their plane tickets and general information.  "Maxwell 
won't be able to meet with you until Monday, but you have to get down 
there on Saturday with all the other tourists.  So just blend in for a 
couple days.  Go shopping, walk on the beach, lay out in the sun, 
whatever."

<The Federal Government is going to pay us to go down to the Cayman 
Islands and get a sun tan.  No wonder it's so far in debt> Fox Mulder 
thought.
	
Skinner handed them their cover information.  "I managed to get you a 
two-bedroom condo, but you've got to appear as a married couple, so 
you'll be registered as Mr. and Mrs. Mulder.  While you do work for the 
FBI, you're just in the Caymans on a second honeymoon.

"Chief Maxwell is going to be the only one who knows the real purpose 
for your being down there.  To everyone else, you're just vacationers."  
Skinner gestured a hand at Mulder, "You play softball with Maxwell's 
son, Steven, who really is a doctor at Johns Hopkins.  You're stopping 
by the police station just to say hello."
	
Scully piped in, "Why can't he meet with us until Monday?"
	
"Because he doesn't work weekends, and he doesn't want to attract any 
undo attention by coming in on his normal days off, or you coming to his 
house," Skinner replied.  "The Cayman Islands make 90% of their money 
from tourists.  He doesn't want even an inkling of why you are there to 
get out.  He doesn't even want his wife to find out about this."
	
As Mulder and Scully started to rise from their chairs, Skinner added, 
"Since you're leaving tomorrow for a week, take the rest of the day off.  
Go home.  Do what you have to do to get ready.  Pack.  Laundry.  Stop 
your mail.  Whatever.  Just keep in touch."


SATURDAY, APRIL 1, 2000
1:42 p.m.
GRAND CAYMAN ISLAND

As Fox Mulder exited the plane with his black carry-on bag in one hand 
and the stair railing in the other, he inhaled a deep breath of very 
warm air, and exhaled all the problems of the FBI.  It felt so good to 
be so far from the hustle and bustle of the nation's capital.
	
"Mulder?"
	
He turned around to see his beautiful redheaded partner taking in the 
scenery as the wind tossed her hair to the side. 
	
"Scully?"	
	
"You think we could get a transfer down here?"
	

"What? And give up Salt Lake City?"
	
He expected one of her famous "Bite me, Mulder" looks, but instead she 
gave him a rarely heard laugh.  Was he that funny?  Or was it being in a 
far away land?
	
After showing their passports, retrieving their luggage, and signing out 
their white Dodge Stratus rental car, they drove to their resort.  
Mulder was having a hard time concentrating on driving on the "wrong 
side" of the road when what he really wanted to do was watch his 
partner's reaction to the beautiful ocean scenery.
	
After parking their car in the Hyatt Regency Resort lot, they headed for 
the front desk -- hand in hand.  Feeling a bit mischievous while they 
waited for a hotel clerk to end a telephone call, Mulder snickered to 
Scully, "Honeybunch, I'm so glad we decided to come down here for our 
second honeymoon."

	
Scully, pausing a moment from brushing out her messed hair, kissed his 
cheek and smiled, "Me too, Poopyhead."
	
Mulder wasn't too sure what to make of that kiss, whether it was for him 
or a show for the other couples in the lobby.  He realized, though, that 
he was going to have to put off debating the meaning in his head as a 
desk clerk approached them.
	

Among the information given to them when they checked in, they were told 
that a Ms. Tammy Phelps would be their personal guide from the Hyatt.  
She would be checking in with them within the hour to discuss the 
Hyatt's amenities and all the activities Grand Cayman Island offered -- 
those that could be printed on a brochure.  	
	
After finding their condominium and unlocking the front door, Mulder 
turned and noticed Scully standing behind him with only her purse in her 
hand.  Her suitcase and garment bag rested on the sidewalk.  Scully's 
eyes were closed as she breathed in the warm air, apparently bewitched 
by their surroundings.

Mulder couldn't leave well enough alone.    
	
"Wha ... " Scully shrieked as Mulder picked her up in his arms.
	
"Darling, I thought you'd like it," Mulder said with a huge Cheshire Cat 
grin on his face.
	
"Mulder," Scully tried to spit out between laughs, as she put her arms 
around Mulder's neck.
	
"Hey, you didn't let me carry you over the threshold in Arcadia.  I'm 
doing it now."

Scully managed to point behind them as they entered their weeklong 
residence.  "Mulder, the luggage.  It's still outside."

"I'll get it later.  Let's check this place out first," Mulder 
suggested.
	
They went around the condominium getting the grand scheme of things, and 
were just about to check out the patio deck when Scully whispered in 
Mulder's ear, "Are you going to put me down now?"
	
"Are we done with the tour?"
	
"Yes, Mulder, we are," she said, her face an inch away from his.
	
"Okay, off to the big bedroom," he announced as he trotted back down the 
hallway, eyed that the luggage was still outside the doorway waiting for 
them, and turned the corner into what would be Scully's bedroom.
	
He threw her on the bed, proclaiming to the world, "I love this place!"
	
Scully shrieked again as she landed, and was quickly joined on the bed 
by her partner who took advantage of the situation and snuggled close to 
her.  Happily for Mulder, she didn't pull away.
	
"So Scully," Mulder whispered in her ear, "What do you want to do first?  
Go skinny-dipping in our own Jacuzzi or re-consummate the marriage?"  Of 
course, 90% of him was joking.  He didn't know what he'd do if she 
actually called his bluff.  But he was pretty sure he could improvise.
	
"Sorry, Mulder, I just want to lie here and relax.  Would you do me a 
favor and bring in my luggage?"
	
"WHAT?  We're in Paradise and you want to stay in our hotel room?  And 
sleep?"
	
"Well, at least until that guide shows up.  I only got three hours of 
sleep last night."
	
"Why didn't you kick him out once he started snoring?" Mulder chuckled, 
knowing that sucking down beers while watching "Caddyshack" with him was 
the closest Scully had gotten to a date in years.  Excluding her last 
birthday, that is, when he took her out for dinner.
	
"Oh, I thought about it, but Byers is such a good friend of yours.  I 
just didn't have the heart.  And when we snuggle up like spoons, he 
looks like you from the back," she shot back, her eyes still shut.
	
All time and matter stopped ... and didn't start again until Scully 
opened her baby blues and started laughing.
	
Had she said Frohike or Langley, he would have known immediately that 
Scully was joking.  But Byers.  That just touched too close.  
	
He knew Byers was a good-looking guy.  And from the back, they did look 
alike.  Mulder used that to his advantage to sneak out of the hospital 
after he was shot and his hospital room was being watched.
	
And since the excursion to Las Vegas, he didn't always trust the guys 
alone with Scully.  Especially since he had noticed Byers glancing a 
little too long in Scully's direction a few times since then.  And had 
thought that maybe Scully peeked a little too often at Byers.
	
But Scully seemed content to leave the joke sit.  She grabbed a pillow 
from under the bedspread, punched it a few times, and then rested her 
head upon it, as Mulder got up from the bed and retrieved Scully's 
luggage. 

"Thanks, Poopyhead," Scully mumbled, then blew him a kiss. 

"Anything for my blushing bride," Mulder quipped in return, feeling a 
smile come over his face.
	
Ten minutes later, as Mulder was putting away the last of his clothes in 
his dresser, a knock on their door interrupted their privacy.  Mulder 
walked into Scully's room through the adjoining bathroom.  She hadn't 
moved in the last ten minutes.  

Thinking she might have fallen asleep, Mulder walked over to the side of 
her bed, ran his hand along her arm, and whispered in her ear, "We've 
got company, Honeybunch."
	
Scully rubbed her eyes with one hand and stretched out the other as 
Mulder walked to the door.
	

"Mr. Mulder?" asked a tall brunette, standing on the other side of the 
now infamous threshold, holding a large fruit basket and portfolio in 
her hands.
	
"Yes?"
	

She maneuvered both items into her left hand and extended her right. 
"How do you do, Mr. Mulder?  I'm Tammy Phelps, your Hotel Guide.  I just 
wanted to stop by for a few minutes to talk with you.  Is now a good 
time?"
	

As Mulder shook her hand, he gestured an invitation to enter, "Oh, yes, 
come on in.  Please call me Fox.  Mr. Mulder was my father."  
	
"Okay," Tammy replied, "Fox it is." 
	
Scully came out of the bedroom, running a brush through her hair again.
	
"And this is my wife, Dana," Mulder added.  
	
<My wife, Dana.  Not Byers' wife. My wife.>
	
The two ladies shook hands as Mulder continued, "Honey, this is Tammy 
Phelps."
	
"Tammy, nice to meet you," Scully said.
	
"Nice to meet you too," Tammy replied.  She handed the fruit basket in 
the couple's direction. "Here, this just was delivered for you to the 
front desk.  I thought I'd bring it with me and save you a trip back to 
the lobby."
	
Mulder grabbed the basket. "Thank you."
	
"Oh my gosh, who's this from?" Scully asked as the trio headed toward 
the kitchen.  As Mulder placed the basket on the countertop, Scully 
grabbed the card and read it aloud, "Have a wonderful second honeymoon.  
Kersh."  
	
The agents looked at each other, pondering the true meaning of the 
basket as Tammy piped up, "Who's that?  Some friend?"
	
Scully answered, "Our boss's boss."  She sat down, grabbed one of the 
fruit juice bottles from the basket and gestured toward the gift, 
"Tammy, please sit down and help yourself."
	
"Thanks," Tammy replied as she set her portfolio on the countertop, 
grabbed a tomato juice, and sat down, "Don't mind if I do.  It's been a 
busy day."
	
"How many people do you have to meet with today?" Mulder asked as he 

grabbed an apple juice, stood behind Scully, and started to rub her 
shoulder with his free hand.  For a moment, Mulder wondered what Scully 
was thinking about all their public displays of affection.  But, he 
rationalized, they were supposed to be on their second honeymoon, and 
honeymooners showed outward signs of affection.  

Truth be told, he was enjoying the hell out of it himself. 
	
"Twelve couples," Tammy answered as her tomato juice opened with a pop.  
"But fortunately, they are spaced over the course of the day."  

Tammy reached into her portfolio, took out some brochures and handed 
them to Mulder and Scully.  "Now I don't want to overwhelm you with 
everything there is to do, so I'll just make a few suggestions, and then 
I'll leave the brochures with you.  You can go over them and then let me 
know what might sound like fun.  For the most part, we handle all the 
reservations -- for the scuba diving, jet skiing, side trips -- that 
kind of stuff.  On your first day here, though, I wouldn't suggest doing 
too much.  Some people just like to lie on the beach.  Others like to go 
shopping.  Now do you have your own car or will you need 
transportation?" she asked, looking through her notes.
	
"We rented one at ... " Mulder started, looking over the brochure on 
scuba diving, wondering what Scully would look like in a wet suit.
	
"We've got our own car," Scully said at the same time, eyeing the 
information on Cayman shops.
	
After the trio chuckled at the unison remarks, Tammy made a notation on 
her pad of paper.  "Now, Dana, the best place to go shopping is 
Georgetown, which is our 'downtown.' "
	
Scully chuckled, "That's where...," she paused a nano-second " ... we 
live.  In Georgetown, Virginia."
	
<Nice catch, Scully.  Not you, WE> Mulder thought silently.
	
A puzzled look came over Tammy's face, as she looked back at her notes, 
"What's 935 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC?"
	
"That's the ... " Mulder started.
	
" ... FBI Building ... " Scully went on.
	
" ... Where we work," Mulder concluded.
	
"Oh that's right.  You're my FBI couple, aren't you?  I was so excited 
when I heard two FBI agents were coming down here.  Do you work 
together?" Tammy exclaimed.
	
"Rarely.  Dana's an instructor at the Academy in Quantico.  She teaches 
Forensic Pathology and performs autopsies," Mulder said, recounting the 
information from their cover story, as he put his arm around Scully's 
shoulders, "And I work in the Behavior Science Unit.  We both work with 
agents who investigate cases, but we're rarely directly together.  I 
only come down to see her if I want to get a first hand look at how a 
victim has been killed ... or if I need lunch money."
	
Tammy's expression had turned to intrigue. "Oooo, that's sounds 
interesting.  How long have you two been married?" Tammy asked, pointing 
a finger in their direction, changing the subject.
	
"Seven years on Monday," Scully told her.
	
Mulder continued with the data from their cover story, "Dana and I met 
shortly after she came to the FBI nine years ago."  He looked at her and 
smiled, "We started dating shortly after that and were married April 3, 
1993."
	
Tammy leaned toward Scully and smiled, "Where did you find him?  My 
husband can barely remember my birthday, and certainly doesn't remember 
our anniversary."
	
Scully put her arm around Mulder's waist, as he now stood at her side, 
"Psychologists -- they remember everything.  Birthdays, anniversaries.  
Heck, he could probably tell you the day we met," She winked at him with 
a challenged look in her eyes.
	
Mulder winked back.  "March 21, 1991."  He was good at impromptu 
answers.  They had actually met March 21, 1993, but since they 
supposedly met nine years ago, he had to push back their meeting date.
	
Tammy laughed, "Very good!"
	
Mulder couldn't leave well enough alone, "But she can name the first 
song we ever danced to."
	
<You remember, Scully?>
	
"'Walking in Memphis'" Scully answered with a smile, looking upward to 
Mulder.
	
Mulder smiled back at his partner, recalling their first dance, and the 
first time he almost kissed her.  Then Mulder winked in Tammy's 
direction.  "See why I love her?" Mulder said to the guide, and then 
looked back at Scully.  She was still looking up at him with those baby 
blues.
	
<Oh this is too perfect an opportunity.>

Mulder leaned down and kissed her.  He planned on it lasting just longer 
than a quick peck, for appearance sake he told himself, but when Scully 
brought her hand up to caress the side of his face, he didn't want to 
pull his lips away.  
	
When his heart started beating again, and blood returned to his brain, 
Mulder realized that this was the second time Scully had kissed him in 
less than an hour.  First on the cheek in the lobby.  Now on the lips in 
front of Tammy.	
	
<What the hell is she doing to me?>


MONDAY, APRIL 3, 2000
9:25 a.m.

	
"Can I help you?" the young lady behind the desk asked as Mulder and 
Scully walked into the lobby of the Georgetown Police Department.

They approached in her in their usual fashion -- Scully first, Mulder 
slightly behind her with his hand caressing the inward curve of her 
back.  Even undercover, some things didn't change.  

Mulder fought off the knee-jerk reaction to reach for his FBI 
identification badge, "Yes, we're Fox and Dana Mulder.  We would like to 
see Chief Maxwell if he's got a minute."
	
The young lady approached the couple.  Her nametag gave her last name as 
"Dudley."
	
"I'm sorry.  Chief Maxwell is home ill today.  Can anyone else help 
you?"
	
Scully piped up, "No, we're here on personal business.  Will he be back 
tomorrow?"
	
"No ma'am, more likely Wednesday at the earliest.  His bronchitis is 
acting up again.  Usually does this time of year," Officer Dudley 
explained.
	
"That's too bad," Mulder offered, looking around the place.
	
<Shucks, no pictures of Janet Reno.>
	
"Are you the people that know Steven?" she asked.
	
"Yes," they replied in unison.
	
"The chief mentioned you might be stopping by.  He asked me to apologize 
for not being able to meet with you today and to get your room number at 
the Hyatt.  He was hoping you could stop by later in the week," Officer 
Dudley told them as she got a pad of paper and a pen.
	
"We're in room 519," Mulder informed her.
	
Dudley wrote the information on the paper and then looked up.  "I'll be 
sure to let Chief Maxwell know you stopped by and give him this."
	
"Okay, thanks.  Let him know we'll stop by later in the week," Mulder 
said as he and Scully turned around and headed out of the building.

"Will do."
	
"Mulder," Scully started, as soon as they hit daylight, "Is it just me 
or does something not feel right here?"
	
Mulder grabbed her hand, mindful of their cover yet still enjoying 
himself, and started walking down the street, "No, it's not just you.  
Couldn't he have just gotten some penicillin and come in to work?  I 
mean, if it was so important that we come all the way down here ... "
	
"Depends on what kind of bronchitis it is, Mulder -- bacterial or viral.  
If it's viral in nature, like his probably is seeing as it's a 
reoccurring problem, penicillin can fix it.  But then your body builds 
up a tolerance to the penicillin.  Usually it's best to just let it run 
its course," Scully said.
	
Mulder chuckled a bit, "Didn't you bring any anti-virals with you, 
Scully?"
	
Scully snapped her fingers, "Damn, I knew there was something I forgot 
to pack."  
	
When they got to where their car was parked, Mulder tightened his grip 
of Scully's hand momentarily.  "So ... it looks like Special Agent 
Scully and her partner have the day off ... " Mulder spun Scully around 
to face him, and took her other hand in his, " ... And Mr. and Mrs. 
Mulder have another day to play.  So wife, what do you want to do?"
	
Scully leaned against the car door and sighed, "Well, it's too late to 
go to swimming with the stingrays.  And we did enough scuba diving 
yesterday ... "
	
Mulder took a step closer to her, "Oh, I don't know.  I had a lot of fun 
with that."
	
Scully laughed, "Yes, it's more fun looking at the fish than looking for 
buried-under-water alien spacecraft when you're scuba diving."
	
Mulder nodded, "Especially with a gorgeous red-head in a bikini next to 
you."

"Mulder!" Scully smiled as she started to blush, "I was wearing a wet 
suit when were scuba diving."

Mulder invaded his partner's personal space by leaning toward her, "Yes, 
but I know what was underneath the suit."
	
Scully smiled and then looked around, "Well, we're downtown anyway.  How 
about some shopping?  I hear they've got great prices on jewelry down 
here, besides booze and cigars.  Maybe I can get some Christmas shopping 
done early."
	
"Well, when I see what I want, Scully ... "
	
<... Besides you that is ...>
	

" ... I'll let you know," Mulder joked, as they headed down the street.
	
"Bite me, G-man," Scully laughed.
	

"How about if I just nibble?"


7:35 p.m.

Scully, clad in her navy silk pajama top and shorts, walked into her 
bedroom sipping her coffee and holding a second cup for Mulder, who was 
in the adjoining bathroom.
	
"Mulder, want a cup of coffee?" she called, as she walked in the room 
that was easily twice the size of her bathroom back in Georgetown.  She 
was a bit surprised to find the door to the bathroom open from her side.  
She knew she had closed it after she finished her shower and came in her 
room to dress.
	
Mulder, his face decked out with shaving cream, turned to her, "Yeah, 
I'd could go for a cup of joe."
	
Scully was mesmerized by the sight of Mulder clad only in the white 
towel wrapped around his waist.  Had she never really looked at his 
chest before, or was it just being so far away from home and the Bureau 
that caused her to stir at the site of him?  Or was it spending time in 
Paradise with their guard down?  Shopping.  Going out for lunch.  Scuba 
diving.  Visiting all the tourist attractions.
	
Or, in essence, having a life.  
	
For the second time in as many years, they were "playing house," as 
Mulder once put it.  Sleeping under the same roof, holding hands in 
public, kissing in public, sharing the same last name.  
	
Only this time, it wasn't the made-up "Petrie."  It was the real-life 
"Mulder."

<What was Skinner thinking?  Mr. and Mrs. Fox Mulder.>
	
Was he hoping this little time in paradise would bring her and Mulder 
closer together?  Is that what Skinner wanted?  Was he just a hopeless 
romantic underneath that gruff exterior?
	
And that kiss two days earlier -- it wasn't just blown to each other for 
show in front of Tami and Win Schroeder.  It was a full lip-lock in 
front of Tammy Phelps.
	
Before Mulder caught her gazing at him, hopefully, she walked closer to 
him, handing him the warm cup.
	
"Mulder, what is my bathroom door doing open?  I have to get dressed."
	
"I'm not stopping you," he said mischievously, as he wrapped his hand 
around the mug and took a sip.
	
"Mulder!" she said, her eyes resting upon his chest again.  Had he been 
working out lately?  That kind of muscle definition didn't come from 
jogging.  She didn't remember his chest ... his very gorgeous chest ... 
being that toned.
	

Mulder shot her a grin as he put the cup down.
	
<Shit, did he notice me staring at him?>
	
"You fogged up the mirrors, Scully.  There aren't any fans, so I had to 
open both our doors to try to air out the room," Mulder explained, as he 
wiped a clear circle into the reflective glass.
	
Now for the first time, Scully pried her eyes of Mulder's chest and 
looked at the mirrors, all clouded over.
	
"Whoops.  Sorry."
	
"Makes this kind of hard," he said, with that Cheshire grin still on his 
face.
	
<Hard, Mulder?  Makes WHAT hard?  Oh, shaving....  Oh, shit.  I can't 
stand it anymore.>
	
"Well, Mulder, I *am* a doctor," she said as she walked in front of him, 
"I'm use to working with sharp instruments."  She put her cup down, took 
the razor out of his hand, and sat on the countertop between him and the 
mirror.  With her free hand, she pulled Mulder closer to her.
	
<Mulder, please don't ask me if I'm coming on to you.  At this moment, I 
couldn't lie and say no.>
	
Scully laid her thumb under Mulder's chin, tilted his head up slightly, 
and took a long stroke of his neck with his razor.  Mulder closed his 
eyes. "I could get used to this, Scully."
	
"Well, enjoy it while you can, Mulder.  We only have a bathroom between 
us for a week."
	
"You going to do this everyday for me?  What a wife." Mulder quipped 
back, his eyes still closed, as though he was in a trance.
	
<Oh, I could get used to this myself.>
	
"We'll see, Mulder.  Of course, you will have to shave my legs," she 
challenged.
	
Mulder opened his eyes and kissed her nose.  "Deal."
	
Several strokes of the razor later, Pathologist-turned-Barber Dana 
Scully put the finishing touches on her handiwork.  She grabbed a nearby 
small towel, wetted it with hot water, and pressed it to Mulder's face.  
"This is going to be on the warm side, Mulder."
	
"Scully, I think you missed your calling," he said from under the towel, 
putting his hand on her knee for balance.
	
As she took the towel away from his face, their eyes met.  Longer than a 
casual glance.  She looked away long enough to hang up the towel on the 
small rack on the wall.  When she looked back at Mulder, he was still 
watching her intently.
	
The desire to kiss him was deep in her gut, but could she get away with 
it?
	
<Well, a little peck couldn't hurt.  Something longer than a little peck 
wouldn't hurt either.  And if he objects, I can kid my way out if it.  
We're supposed to be a married couple.  But I don't think he's going to 
object....  He kissed me the other day when Tammy was here...

Of course, that was just for her benefit.  This is different.  It's just 
the two of us now....
	
Shut up and just do it, Dana!>
	
Scully crooked a finger under Mulder's chin. "All pretty now," she said 
as she drew his face closer, slanting hers to the right.  The tips of 
their noses slid by each other, and just before their lips met, she 
noticed that his eyes closed.  
	
"Thank you," Mulder said quietly afterwards.
	
<For what, Mulder?  The shave or the kiss?>
	
"You're welcome."
	
This time, Mulder leaned in to kiss her.  One kiss.  One chaste kiss.  
Then another.  Then another.  
	
A moment later, his hand was at the side of her face and his kiss 
deepened.  Slowly, gently, even almost tentatively, his tongue sought 
out her mouth.  She welcomed it.  With open arms.  Or was it open lips?

Scully slid her left hand into the locks on the back of Mulder's head, 
as her right hand wrapped around Mulder's bare back, bringing him even 
closer to her.  Both of his hands framed her face, holding her captive 
as he took her mouth as his.

	
After a while, she felt something firm between her legs.  She realized 
that somewhere in all the grabbing and repositioning of their bodies, 
her torso had maneuvered to the edge of the countertop and her legs were 
wrapped around his waist.
	
Mulder's hands slipped down her back and cupped her buttocks, bringing 
her closer to him, if that was possible.  She was sure his next move was 
going to be picking her up off the counter and carrying her to his bed.
	
But somewhere in the background, a faint ring beckoned.  Over and over.
	
As Mulder broke off their kiss, Scully came back to reality.  Damn 
telephone.
	
"Whoever that is," Mulder groaned, "I'm going to kill them.  Where's my 
gun?"
	
Scully released Mulder from her leg grip, "Don't you have it on you?  I 
could have sworn I felt something hard between my legs."
	
Mulder turned a pale shade of red, "Oh, I bet you did."  Then he leaned 
close to her ear and whispered, "But it wasn't my gun."
	
They shared a quick, soulful glance before Mulder walked into the living 
room and picked up the telephone. 
	
"Hello," she heard him say.  "No, we didn't.  We went down to see him, 
but some officer said he was home with bronchitis.  He's hoping to be 
back by Wednesday."
	
Skinner.  How did he know...?
	
"I will.... Okay, I will.... It's beautiful.  Eighty-five degrees.  
Sunny.  Agent Scully and I are thinking about asking for a transfer down 
here," Mulder laughed, as he winked at his partner who had just come 
into the room.

	
"Will do," Mulder said just before he hung up the telephone.
	
"Timing has never been that man's strong suit," Scully joked as she 
started to walked toward her bedroom, "but then we do have to get ready 
for Mr. and Mrs. Mulder's dinner reservations."
	
Mulder clasped her hand before she got out of reach.  Words weren't 
necessary at that point.  They knew they had finally stepped over the 
line, one Scully had wanted to cross for over a year now, and there was 
no turning back.  Scully caressed the side of his face as she smiled.
	
"We do have to get dressed, Mulder," she tried to rationalize, but 
inwardly wondered what she would do if Mulder suddenly picked her up in 
his arms again, carried her to his bedroom, threw her on the bed, and 
proclaimed, "To hell with dinner."  
	
Take that back.  No, she didn't wonder.  She knew exactly what she'd do.  
And she'd enjoy every minute of it.

	
8:03 p.m.	

Fox Mulder straightened his tuxedo bow tie for the umpteenth time as he 
called to his partner, "Scully, you almost ready?  Our reservations are 
for eight o'clock and it's almost five after."
	
"Yeah, I'm just putting on my jewelry.  I'm not used to putting on a 
gown in the course of an investigation.  I don't know how it's going to 
fit back in my garment bag.  It was crammed enough on the way down here, 
and now after buying all these new clothes and souvenirs down here...."
	
As Mulder grabbed the room key, Dana Scully ... Dana Mulder ... came out 
of her bedroom.  Mulder caught his breath as he looked at his lovely 
"wife."  She was wearing a strapless crimson dress with little pearl-
like beads, a strand of pearls at her neck and earrings to match.
	
"Dana ... you're beautiful."
	
The corner of her mouth went up as she replied, "Thanks.  You don't look 
so bad yourself ... Fox."
	
Fox.
	
She had called him that a few times recently.  He didn't mind it 

anymore, since finding out the truth of why his mother named him that 
at, of all places, her funeral.
	
	
<<<"Honey," his Aunt Carolyn called to him, "There's someone I'd like 
you to meet."  Carolyn came up to him with a gentleman, about Mrs. 
Mulder's age, who obviously frequented the same hair stylist as Walter 
Skinner, but who hadn't seen the inside of a health club in years.
	
Mulder let go of Scully's hand, a rare occurrence, and extended his hand 
to this gentleman.
	
"Bucky ... Bucky Buckingham, young man," he greeted Mulder as he shook 
his hand, "I was an old friend of your mother's.  I'm very sorry for 
your loss."
	
"Thank you, Mr. Buckingham."

	
"Now, none of that Mr. Buckingham stuff, you call me Bucky.  Everyone 
does."
	
"Okay, Bucky," Mulder turned to Scully, "And this is my dear friend, 
Dana Scully."
	
"How do you do, little lady," Bucky said with an infectious smile.
	
Scully smiled back at the man, "It's nice to meet you, Bucky.  So you 
and Mrs. Mulder were old friends?"
	
Aunt Carolyn started to fill in the story.  "Yes, Bucky's family and our 
rented cottages next to each other on our summer vacations.  We spent 
how many summers together, Bucky?  Ten?  Twelve?"
	
"Ten, I think.  From the time I was eight until the summer before I 
started college."
	
"Wow, so you knew my mother most of her life," Mulder thought out loud.
	
"As a matter of fact, Bucky saved your mother's life once," Aunt Carolyn 
informed Mulder.
	
Stunned, Mulder replied, "Really?  What happened?"
	
Bucky turned a light shade of red, "Well, I wouldn't say I saved it.... 
"
	
Carolyn countered him, "Well, I would, and Tena did."  She turned back 
to Mulder, "Your mother was swimming in the lake, wanting to get onto 
the raft, and some boys were on the raft, leaning over and pushing her 
face under water and holding it down.  She tried to get away, but the 
boys went after her.  And then Bucky ran into the water, swam up to your 
mother and protected her."
	
"I just did what anyone would have done," Bucky tried to explain.
	
"But YOU did it," Carolyn told him, with a hug.
	
Mulder, touched by what the large man had done, extended his hand again, 
"Thank you, Mr. Buck ... Thank you, Bucky.  Thank you for saving my 
mother's life ... and I guess mine."  Mulder chuckled lightly.  "I 
appreciate what you did very much."
	
"Well, your mother did more than just appreciate it, dear," she said to 
Mulder, then turned to Bucky, "Bucky, tell him what your real name is."
	
Bucky seemed confused but complied, "It's Fox."
	
Mulder felt his eyes bulge out, "Fox?!"  
	
Bucky turned a shade of red again, "Yeah, Fox.  My mother's maiden name 
was Foxworthy.  She wanted to name me Foxworthy Buckingham but she 
thought that was too long, so she just named me Fox.  But I was never 
crazy about it, so after I got to college, I made sure everyone just 
called me Bucky."
	
It all made sense now.  And he finally had his answer.  Mulder nodded 
his head and chuckled again.
	
"I don't get the joke," Bucky said.
	
"Ever since I can remember," Mulder started to explain, "I always 
wondered why my mother named me Fox.  Whenever I asked her, she just 
said that it was a fine name."  Mulder paused a moment and put his hand 
on Bucky's shoulder.  "Now I know.  She named me after her friend who 
saved her life."
	

Bucky turned his head in the direction of the casket, "I never knew ... 
We lost touch after she got married."
	
Mulder leaned in to hug his mother's friend, knowing he had found a very 
special person in her life, and now in his.>>>


"I am going to be the most envied man tonight," Mulder noted, with what 
he hoped was seductive smile.	
	
Scully's smile was warm and sweet, "Thank you."  Then she took a step 
closer to him, rested her hand on his chest, and leaned up to kiss him.  
Another one of her briefly-but-not-too-briefly kisses.
	
"You're welcome," he replied, as thoughts of canceling dinner and 
spending the night in their condominium exploring each other's lips ... 
and other body parts ... ran through his mind, which was still reeling 
from the earlier events in the bathroom.  
	
"We better get going," she said, as she turned toward the door.  "I've 
made us late already."
	
He put his hand in the small of her back and whispered in her ear as 
they walked out, "You're worth waiting for."
	
	
Tammy Phelps was greeting people at the Maitre D's section, as the 
"Mulders" came into the restaurant.
	
"Good evening, you two.  Don't you look fabulous tonight!" she 
exclaimed.
	
"Thank you," they replied in unison.
	
Tammy turned to the Maitre D', "Charles, this is Mr. and Mrs. Mulder.  
It's their seventh wedding anniversary today.  I've arranged for them to 
be at Table Eleven."
	
<"Mr. and Mrs. Mulder"
	
"Mr. and Mrs. Fox Mulder"
	
"Fox and Dana Mulder"
	
Not "Mr. and Mrs. John Fitzgerald Byers"
	
"Mr. and Mrs. Fox William Mulder"
	
Stop that.  You're starting to sound like a lovesick teen-ager.>
	
"Happy Anniversary," Charles offered, as he put two menus under his 
hand.  
	
"Thank you," again.
	
"Please follow me," he instructed Scully and Mulder.
	
"Don't forget the band tonight," Tammy called to the couple, "I want to 
see you two on the dance floor during the evening!"
	
"Okay," Mulder assured her.
	
After Charles left their table that overlooked the dance floor on one 
side and gave them an ocean view on the other, Scully peeked over the 
top of her menu, "By the way, Mulder, did I ever tell you that you dance 
very well."
	
Mulder was a bit embarrassed by the compliment.  "I don't know how well, 
but I can hold my own during a waltz," he answered as he eyed the wine 
list.
	
"Yes, you can.  And both times we danced, you never once stepped on my 
feet," Scully said with a grin.
	  
"Your little feet that are too small to reach the pedals?"
	
As Scully started to stick a playful tongue out at her partner from 
behind her menu, a pretty blonde lady, dressed the same as the other 
waiters, came up to their table.
	
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder.  How are you doing tonight?"
	
"Fine, thanks," Mulder replied, impressed that the staff knew their name 
already.  Well, their ...  
	
"I'm Beth.  I'll be serving you tonight.  I understand it's your 
anniversary.  Congratulations," she offered, as she filled their water 
glasses.
	
<Here we go again.>
	
"Thank you," they said together.
	
"And you're down here on your second honeymoon.  How sweet," Beth 
smiled, as another server brought over a split of champagne and an ice 
holder.  Beth turned to the other server, "Thanks, Steve."
	
"My pleasure," Steve replied as he turned to walk away, "Let me know if 
you need help opening the bottle."
	
Scully and Mulder shared a confused look.  
	
"Sweetheart, did you arrange this?" the redhead asked her partner.
	
<Sweetheart?  What happened to "Poopyhead"?  Is she tossing our cover 
out the window and really calling ME "Sweetheart"?>
	

"No honey," Mulder replied, "I'm just as surprised as you are."
	
<Well, if she can throw away our cover for the night, so can I.  Hell, 
if she wants to throw it away for the rest of the trip ...> 
	
"Who ordered this?" Scully asked.
	
"Usually our hotel guides.  Who's yours?"
	
"Tammy Phelps," Mulder answered.
	
Beth smiled, "Oh, yeah.  Tammy's the best.  Can I bring you a bottle of 
wine or a cocktail to have with dinner, Mrs. Mulder?  Mr. Mulder?"
	
Mulder had noticed a familiar entry on the wine list.  "We'll take a 
bottle of the St. Gabriel Piesporter Michelsberg."
	
Scully suddenly looked up at him with a smile.
	
"Is that okay, honey?" Mulder asked, damn well knowing the answer.
	
"Yeah," Scully said, biting her lower lip.  
	
Mulder knew she remembered the last time they had that same bottle of 
wine.  
	
February 23, 2000.  Her thirty-sixth birthday.  The last time they went 
out for dinner.  A very long dinner, intermittently broken up with a 
little cheek to cheek.  Four hours and no talk of work.  Four hours of 
telling secrets, sharing ideas, exchanging intimate conversation -- 
probably the way Scully talked with Eddie Van Blundht that night three 
years ago.  
	
He finally understood how Scully almost let the "Eddie" Mulder kiss her.  
He had wanted to do it many times during that evening.  They opened 
themselves up to each other that night, a very vulnerable move.  
Something he would do only with the woman he trusted with his life.
	
Their date ended with their second kiss, seven weeks after their first 
on New Year's Eve.  But this time no double innuendo about the world not 
coming to an end.  And in the six weeks since the date, he felt their 
relationship changing ... for the better.  Their slight touches lasted a 
little longer.  Their glances lasted a little longer.  And when he put 
his hand on her back, it became more of a caress.
	

The band had started playing a Sinatra standard, "Strangers in the 
Night."  As Beth walked away from the table, she turned and suggested 
that the couple take a spin on the dance floor while she got their wine.
	
Fox Mulder couldn't think of a better idea.  He stood up, went to 
Scully's side, held out his hand and asked, "May I have this dance, Mrs. 
Mulder?"
	
He was starting to wonder why he liked the sound of that so much.
	
Scully placed her white cloth napkin on her plate, took his hand and 
smiled. "I'd love to, Mr. Mulder."	
	
As they drew their bodies close together on the dance floor, Mulder took 
Scully's right hand in his left and rested it on his chest.  His right 
hand caressed her lower back.
	
He melted a bit as she put her other arm around his neck, started 
playing with the ends of his hair, and brought her temple next to his 
cheek.
	
<Mr. Van Blundht, Mr. Byers?  Neener neener neener.
	
She's mine.  She's all mine.>


After dinner, they walked along the beach.  Silently at times.  Filled 
with hysterical laughter at others.  Sometimes filled with impromptu 
singing of Sinatra tunes.	
	
Anything was better than Three Dog Night.  Although the thought of 
throwing away the cars and the bars and the wars and making sweet love 
did seem appealing.  Even.... Dare he think...? Probable?
	
At one point, Fox Mulder looked down and saw his fingers intertwined 
with Scully's, but he couldn't remember how they got that way.  Was it 
being lost in the moment?  Or the bottle and a half of liquor between 
the two of them that affected his memory?
	
"Are we out of view from everyone else, Mulder?" Scully asked.
	
He turned to double-check, "Well, not really, but no one else is around.  
What do you have in mind?"  Did she want Bathroom Events - Round Two?
	
She sat down on the nearest chair. "This," she said as she started to 
take off her shoes.  "It's difficult enough to walk in heels.  It's 
impossible to walk in heels in the sand.  Shoes are coming off.  
Stockings are coming off."
	
Mulder was feeling a bit playful, besides being horny.  "Take off 
anything else you want, Scully." 

Scully laughed and shook her head.  "Mulder, I don't think that 'On the 
Job FBI Agents caught streaking in Caymans' makes for a good headline."

Mulder pouted, kicked some sand with his black shoes, and mumbled, "No, 
I guess not.  Darn."
	
She put the crimson heels on the seat next to her, and then began to 
lift up the bottom of her dress to take off her thigh-high stockings.  
Getting an up-close and personal view of that incredibly sexy act made 
Mulder's pants fit a little tighter.
	
She gently slipped her thumbs underneath the top of the first one, and 
slowly starting bringing it down her left leg.
	
<Is she going that slowly on purpose?  Does she know she's...?  Or is 
that what she's trying to do?>
	
A desire grew quickly in Mulder's gut.

"You need any help with that, Scully?" he asked, hoping she'd say yes.  
He wanted Round Two.

But she just looked at him, as though she was trying to will her 
thoughts into his mind.
	
Silently, she leaned back in the chair and extended her leg toward him, 
with the stocking half-removed.
	
Mulder got down on one knee in front of her.  Just as silently, he slid 
his hand around her heel and brought her left foot up to rest on his 
thigh.  Carefully, he finished removing the stocking and tossed it on 
the chair next to her.
	
As he did that, their eyes met.  They remained locked on each other as 
Mulder's hand slid over her right knee, slipped around to the back, ran 
down her calf, rested on her ankle and brought her right foot up to his 
thigh.
	
Both of his hands, then, slid up her leg.  His left on the outside.  His 
right on the inside.  Their eyes still unmoving from their stare.  He 
couldn't tell if that was desire in her eyes.  Or a dare.
	
In the past seven years, throughout all their trials and tribulations, 
they had kissed.  They had hugged.  They had snuggled in bed.  He had 
even placed her naked body inside his snowsuit.
	
But never had Fox Mulder slid his hand up so high on the inside Dana 
Scully's leg.  He didn't know if it was nerves or excitement that was 
shuddering through his fingers.
	
With every gentle motion in his body, gentler than he thought possible 
at that moment, his fingers traveled up to the top of the stocking and 
slid it downward.  Past her thigh.  Her knee.  Her calf.  Her ankle.  
Then finally off her leg.  
	
As Mulder tossed the stocking on top of its mate, Scully leaned forward, 
brushed the back of her right fingers across his cheek, then 
straightened them out and brought his face closer to hers.
	
No Happy New Year Kiss in a hospital.
	
No Happy Birthday Kiss at her door.
	
No Good-bye Kiss in his apartment hallway.

	
<No damn bee.>
	
Their lips touched, taunted and teased each other as Mulder got down on 
both knees to bring his body and Scully's closer together.  His tongue 
wasn't so tentative this time.  It claimed her quickly, wanting her ... 
as his ... now.
	
And for a while, the Cayman Islands disappeared.  Washington, DC 
disappeared.  
	
Area 51?  Gone, too.
	
CGB Spender?  Up in smoke.
	
After what might have been either a few minutes or a few minutes shy of 
all eternity, Mulder heard voices calling out, "Hey -- here's a good 
spot."
	
"Yeah, let's set it up over here."
	
Mulder and Scully looked up to see a half dozen or so people in T-shirts 
and shorts, and one very tall blond "surfin' dude" that could have 
passed as Langley's younger brother holding a volleyball.
	
"Whoops," the junior Langley called, "Hey man, we're sorry.  We didn't 
see you."
	
Mulder started rising to his feet and brushed off the sand from his 
trousers.  "That's alright.  We were just about to go back to the dining 
room."  He hoped that would be okay with his partner.
	
"Hey no man, we'll get out of your way."
	
Mulder offered his hand to Scully to help her out of her chair, shoes 
and stockings in hand.  "No, don't worry about it.  I suddenly feel like 
holding my wife very close on the dance floor."
	
<Oh THAT came out easily.  My wife ...>
	
The idea met with the surfer's approval.  "Yeah, man.  Hey, go for it."
	
Apparently, the idea had Scully's approval too, as she squeezed Mulder's 
hand as she rose to her feet.
	
As they walked hand in hand back up beach towards the dining room, 
Scully stopped them.  "Mulder, wait.  I need to put my stockings on 
again if we're going to dance."
	
"Only if I get to take them off again," Mulder warned her.
	
"You did that very well," she said as she sat down on a step.
	
Mulder bent down and lifted her chin with a bent finger.  "I enjoyed 
it," he said, and kissed her again.
	
"So did I," Scully whispered as their kiss released.
	
Mulder looked around as Scully put on her stockings.  They were on the 
patio outside the hotel's dining room, but could still hear the band's 
music playing.
	
The roar of the ocean.  The warmth of the air.  The total freedom and 
joy in his soul washed over a very content Fox Mulder.
	

"Okay, Mulder.  All set," Scully announced as she stood up.
	
"Hey, Scully," Mulder started as he took her hand, "How about we just do 
the cheek to cheek out here?"  And without waiting for an answer, he 
took Scully in his arms and started swaying to the band's rendition of 
"The Way You Look Tonight."
	
"Mulder," Scully asked, after a peaceful silence.
	
"Mmmmm?"
	
"You sure that you didn't plan this whole thing somehow?"
	
"What?"
	

"This!  Coming down here on some case that we know nothing about yet?"
	
"And how would I get Skinner ... hell, Kersh ... to play along with me?" 
Mulder chuckled, wondering where she came up with that idea.
	
"I don't know.  You and the Gunmen have some pretty amazing sources..."
	
"Well, maybe Langley and Byers would have gone for it ... okay, maybe 
not Byers ... but Frohike, hell, he would have wanted to come here with 
you himself," Mulder laughed nervously, as they continued to dance.
	
Scully chuckled, "Yeah, that's right.  He thinks I'm hot."
	
"Yep."
	
She looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes.  "And you thought it was 
remotely plausible that someone could think I'm hot."
	
"Scully," Mulder started, pleading innocent, "we barely knew each other.  
I couldn't let you know that from the day we met you've done nasty 
things to my libido."
	
Scully leaned in toward him, pressing her stomach against his lower 
region.  "Oh really?" she asked quite unnecessarily, as his own body 

betrayed any secrets he wanted to keep from her.
	
"Scully, if you don't know that by now, you are NOT the investigator I 
thought you were."
	
Their feet stopped moving as their lips met again.  Softer this time, as 
though they were showing each other that they knew the difference 
between having sex ... and making love.
	
"Don't worry, Mulder.  I am," she whispered as she laid her head on his 
shoulder.
	
Another few kisses, and another few turns later...
	
"Do I?" Mulder asked meekly.
	
Scully looked up at him, with a confused look on her face.
	
"Do ...?" Mulder continued, hoping he didn't have to finish the 
sentence.
	
He was relieved when she finished his thoughts.
	
"Nasty things to *my* libido?" she said with a smile.
	
As Mulder nodded slightly, Scully continued, "I'm the doctor, Mulder.  I 
rely on scientific and physical evidence," she said as she again gently 
pressed her abdomen into his groin, "to tell me what I need to know.  
You're the profiler, Mulder.  You tell me.  Based on your knowledge of 
me, my past behaviors and the like, do I act as though you get my libido 
all revved up?"
	
"Once in a while, yes, but..." Mulder hesitated.

"But what?"

"Well, if it's true confessions time, the behavior of yours that I like 
best," Mulder snickered, "is when you act like I'm all yours and every 

other woman in the world better keep their hands off."

Scully's expression changed to humorous disbelief.  "When have I ever 
acted that way?"

"WHEN?  Well, I think the first time was in front of Phoebe, which I 
thought was hysterical since we had only been partners for a little 
while."

"When did I act possessive of you in front of Phoebe?  I thought I was 
damn tolerant of her ... and you ... and your dancing and kissing in 
that hallway ... while the damn fire was raging on the fourteenth 
floor." 

"I just noticed you giving her your version of the evil eye once or 
twice ... and I thought it was kind of sweet," Mulder admitted, kissing 
Scully's forehead as he squeezed her hand that rested on his chest.


Scully smiled out of the corner of her mouth, as the band struck up 
"Someone to Watch Over Me."  Scully looked to her left in the direction 
of the band.  "Rather appropriate song for us to dance to.  Okay, when 
else have I acted like you were my boy toy?"

Realizing that Diana was still a sore spot in their relationship, Mulder 
opted for a different scenario.

"How about that time when the blonde high school girl gave me the once 
over when we went to interview her friend in jail?"

Scully laughed, "You mean that 17-year-old who had the boyfriend that 
thought I must have been a Betty back in the day?"


"Yeah, her.  You got jealous because she wanted me," Mulder teased.

"No, Mulder, I wasn't jealous of her," Scully said quietly, "I wanted to 
rip her eyes out."

"See, that's what I love about you.  You're incredibly intelligent, 
incredibly beautiful, respected by your peers, fantasized about by more 
than one man in the Bureau, and yet when a teen-ager pays too much 
attention to me, your claws come out to protect me," Mulder told her, 
holding her in a close embrace.

"I guess pulling my gun on her would have been overkill," Scully mumbled 
into Mulder's chest.

"Unless I'm reading it all wrong, and seeing what I want to see.  And 
you really DO have the hots for Byers."
	
Scully slapped her partner, in work and in dance, on the chest, "Mulder, 
that was a joke!  I don't have anything for Byers."
	
"You sure?" Mulder asked, and then inwardly chastised himself for 
sounding so ... childish.
	
"Mulder ..." she said.  She smiled and quietly told him, "I love you."
	
As Mulder's face slowly broke into a smile, Scully put her arms around 
him.  They kissed ... and kissed ... and kissed, and then looked deep in 
each other's eyes.  Damn, there was that look again.  The one Mulder saw 
and cherished.  Not the one that said "You're mine," but the one that 
said "I'm yours."
	
"Scully ... would I be totally out of line if I suggested ... "	
	
Scully slowly slid her hand from around Mulder's neck and undid the bow 
tie Mulder had so carefully gotten just right.  "Mulder..."
	
"Hmmmmm ..."
	
"The doctor wants the profiler to take her back to their condo."
	
<Take her back to our condo!?  As in....  Well, you don't have to ask me 
twice.>
	
He grabbed the back of Scully's head with his left hand and kissed her.  
It was firm, almost overpowering.  Yet ... familiar.  And he held her 
for who knows how long.
	

As the kiss ended, he half expected to see themselves on the Queen Mary, 
and Scully about to give him a right cross.
	
That was why the kiss felt so familiar.  That was the level of passion 
he had when he kissed Scully, or the Tin Man, or whoever she was 
supposed to be, good-bye on the Queen Mary.
	
Even on the ship, she kissed with a fire.  
	
But this was so much better.
	
It wasn't 1939.  It was 2000.  And he wasn't aboard an ocean liner.  He 
was in paradise with the woman he loved.
	
"You know what?" Mulder asked.
	
"What?"
	
"This is going to have to be our song now," he informed her, with a 
smile.
	
Scully turned her head toward the music, "What is it?"
	
Solemnly, Mulder answered, "Quite appropriately, Agent Scully," he 
leaned down to kiss her right cheek, "When a Man..." 
	
Then the left, "Loves..." 
	
Then her lips, "a Woman." 

	
As they passed through the dining room on the way back to their room, 
they walked by Tammy Phelps, who had a strange look on her face.
	
"You're not leaving already, are you?" she wondered aloud.	
	
Mulder winked at her, "Honeymoon stuff."
	
Tammy smiled, as though she certainly understood, yet added, "But you've 
hardly danced."
	
Scully replied, "Oh, we were dancing on the patio."
	
Tammy smiled, "Yes, I noticed that.  You two make a very cute couple."
	
"Thank you," they replied, again in unison.
	
Tammy raised an eyebrow.  "Should I call you in the morning to see what 
activities you'd like to spend the day doing?"  She closed her eyes and 
grimaced, as though she realized how that request could have been taken, 
and clarified her request "...if we can make any reservations for you."
	
Mulder and Scully squeezed hands, as Scully answered, "Yes, that would 
be fine."
	
They took one more step toward the door before Mulder stopped and turned 
back to Tammy.
	
"But not too early," he said with another wink.
	
Tammy gave him a matching wink, "I *never* call my honeymooners too 
early."
	

11:13 p.m.

Part of Dana Scully wanted to just rip Mulder's tuxedo off, throw him on 
the bed, and have her way with a certain part of his anatomy that had 
been pressed up against her while they danced.  But the other part of 
her, the part that won out, wanted to take the evening's lovemaking 
slow.  

Scully watched as Mulder deadbolted the condominium door, then took him 
by the hand into her bedroom.  Never before had it felt so right leading 
a man into the room where they would make love.
	
They kissed at the edge of her bed.  Slowly.  Passionately.  Scully was 
enjoying the newness of this part of their relationship, yet felt the 
familiarity of knowing Mulder almost better than she knew herself.
	
There was desire.  But no nervousness.
	
There was passion.  But no anxiety.
	
There was love.  But no doubts.
	
The bow tie that had been loosened a few minutes earlier had now taken 
up residence on the dresser.  Scully was in the process of taking the 
tuxedo jacket off of her partner's perfect body.
	

After Mulder unclasped her strand of pearls, the first words since 
walking in the door a few minutes earlier were spoken.
	
"You want to take off your earrings?" he asked quietly. 
	
"Yeah," she whispered, reaching her hands up to her ears.
	
After laying her pearl studs on the dresser next to the bow tie, Scully 
grabbed one of Mulder's wrists.  "We might as well get these off now, 
too," she said, unhooking one of his cufflinks and then the other.
	
As though they were taking the disrobing in stages, the pair went back 
to several minutes of uninterrupted kissing.  Scully melted at the feel 
of Mulder's hands rubbing her back.  She wondered what it was going to 
feel like when he unzipped her dress.
	
Remembering the Adonis-like vision he was in the bathroom earlier in the 
day, Scully wanted to see his beautiful chest again.  She undid the 
buttons to his shirt, and kissed his chest as she went along.  Mulder 
helped her mission by pulling the shirt out of his pants.
	
After all the buttons had been released and the shirt found a new home 
on the floor, Scully treated herself to what she had wanted to do for a 
long time  -- she twirled her tongue around Mulder's nipples, sucked on 
them, and then blew air on them.  The reaction, physical and verbal, was 
what she hoped.  The nipples perked up, and Mulder moaned her name.
	
"Like that?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
	
Mulder brought his hands to the side of her face and forced his lips to 
hers after telling her, "Hell, yes."
	
Within moments, Mulder's hands moved from Scully's face to her back, and 
started unzipping her dress.

	
<Oh, that DOES feel good.>
	
Stepping out of her dress, Scully stood before Mulder wearing only black 
panties, her infamous thigh-high stockings, and those crimson shoes that 
matched her dress.  
	
She moved Mulder around and sat him on the bed, then knelt down and 
proceeded to take off his socks and shoes.  After pushing him backward 
onto the bed, her hand reached for HIS zipper, tantalizing the path 
along the way, and pulled off both his pants and boxers.
	
Finally, Fox Mulder -- au natural.
	
And this time, he wasn't shivering in a bathtub.
	
She separated his legs, wedged her body between them, and paid due 
attention to the part of his anatomy that was crying for attention.  She 
caressed it, kissed it, ran her tongue up its length, and then engulfed 
it in her mouth.  She lost track of the number of times that "Oh god" or 
her name came out of Mulder's mouth, and only paused when the plea to 
stop was uttered.
	
Mulder slowly sat up, as though he might be in pain, but a good pain, 
and begged his partner, "Baby, please, don't push me over the edge just 
yet."
	
<Baby?  Did he just call me "Baby"?  Okay, why did I like it?>
	
"I want to enjoy this for a while," Mulder continued, "and the part I 
want to enjoy now ... "  Mulder turned the tables, getting Scully to sit 
down on the bed.  He then knelt down in front of Scully, took off her 
shoes, and slowly ran his hands up her legs, inside and out, to take of 
her stockings.  After the hose, the last piece of clothing came off of 
Scully.
	
Mulder then stood up, pulled Scully with him, put his arms around her 
waist, and kissed her.   

And chuckled.
	
<We're making love for the first time, and he's laughing.  That's not a 
good sign.>
	
"What's so funny?" she asked, snickering herself.
	
"I'm used to you wearing heals.  You ARE really short," Mulder confessed 
his thoughts, kissing her on the forehead.
	
Scully chuckled as her hand went downward towards her new favorite toy, 
"Better to grab certain pieces of your anatomy.... "
	
"You grab anything you want, baby," Mulder uttered as he scooped her up 
in his arms, in true White Knight fashion as Scully expected, and laid 
her down on the bed, putting her feet underneath the covers that Scully 
had purposely left pulled back.
	
They took turns exploring each other's bodies with their lips, their 
tongues and their fingers.  And when their bodies finally became one, 
Scully felt complete.  For the first time in her life, complete.  
	
Mulder held her hands over her head as he slowly pumped himself inside 
her.  Stroke after stroke Scully squeezed her muscles around him.  She 
wanted to please him in every way possible.
	
"Scully ... aww Sculllllyy ..." Mulder muttered as he pulsed into his 
partner.
	
And with a slight position change, Scully quickly felt her sensitivity 
rising.  "Oh god, Mulder, yeah, right there ... just like that ... " 
	
The words of encouragement got Fox Mulder quickening his pace.  "Yeah? 
... Yeah?"
	
<Yes, Mulder, you're making me ....> 
	
She felt the sensation building up inside her, greater and greater.  She 
clenched her fingers into a death grip around his hair as the tidal wave 
crested.  She proclaimed her partner's name and that of The Almighty as 
her muscles contracted. 
	
"Damn it, Scully, that feels too good to stop," Mulder confessed.
	
"Then don't," she ordered him, "Just give it to me."
	
Mulder's pace quickened again, as did his breathing.  A few strokes 
later, the guttural groan of her name and the ceasing of his thrusts 
told Dana Scully all she needed to know.
	
Mulder laid himself in her arms, as weak and helpless as a newborn baby, 
and she loved it.  Holding the man she so truly loved.  The man she'd 

kill for.  The man she'd give her life for.
	
After a few peaceful minutes, Mulder rolled of off her.  "I've got to be 
squishing you."
	
"No, it felt good," she let him know, in case he wanted to do that again 
anytime in the near future.
	
Mulder turned over on his back, and pulled Scully next to him.
	
"You know, Scully, who ever said that the real thing is never as good as 
the fantasy didn't know what he was talking about."
	
<Fantasies?  Is he going to tell me all his fantasies now?  Oh boy, 
we're going to be here all night.>
	
"Oh really?  And how long have you been having fantasies about us?" she 
asked of her new lover.
	
Mulder looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "Oh, I don't know if 
I should tell you."
	
Scully slapped his ribs, and then kissed them.  "Yes, you should."
	
Mulder was quiet for a moment, then admitted, "Bellefleur, Oregon."
	
<WHAT?>
	

"Mulder, that was our first case!"
	
"Yeah, I remember.  I was there."
	
"You've been having fantasies about making love to me all this time?!"  
She didn't know if she should be more surprised or flattered.
	
"Yep.  Probably even more often that Frohike."
	
She would have slapped him again, though not so gently, if he brought up 
Byers' name again.
	
"When did you fantasize about making love to me in Bellefleur?"
	
"When you came to my room in your robe, and you were lying on my bed, 
and we talked by candlelight," Mulder started as he ran his fingers 
through Scully's red hair. "It was just so easy to talk to you.  Tell 
you everything I'd done, I'd been through.  You might not have bought 
everything I said, but you listened ... I fell a little bit in love with 
you that night.  And I remember looking at you, lying there, and I just 
wanted to crawl into bed with you and be with you that night." 
	
She recalled the setting.  Her head was propped up, her body kept warm 
under a spare blanket, while she listened to Mulder tell her about 
Samantha being abducted, how he became interested in the X-Files, his 
contacts in Congress, and how he believed that there was some sort of 
agenda against him that she was now a part of.  She remembered telling 
him that she wasn't part of any agenda, and how he should trust her.  

But even as the words came out that night, even after knowing each other 
a little more than twenty-four hours, she got the feeling that he didn't 
trust a lot of people.  
	
But that when she did gain his trust, it would be unending.
	
<Damn it, why didn't I say yes when you asked me ... you commanded me 
... to marry you.  Would it be rushing things if I asked you now?>
	
"Oh Fox," she tried out his first name again, "why didn't you ever tell 
me?"
	
"Work.  Timing.  Being scared.  I don't know."
	
"Scared of what?" she asked, propping up on one elbow.
	
"Dana, you know as well as I do why we've never crossed over this line 
before." He turned on his side to face her. "We're good as partners.  I 
was so scared that if I made a move, and you didn't reciprocate that I'd 
ruin everything between us.  You're my best friend, and I didn't want to 
lose that.  So I settled for being your partner and your friend instead 
of being your lover."
	
Scully looked down at the bed, and then back to Mulder, "And what about 
now?  Are we going to stay partners?"
	
He swept his fingers through her hair again, "I don't know how this is 
going to play out.  I don't know if being together all day and then all 
night is going to be too much ... if we should ask to be reassigned.


"I do know, though," he lifted her chin with his finger, "that I love 
you very much, and I don't ever want to lose you.  And whatever it is 
that we have to do to make this thing work, I want to do it -- so we can 
come back here for our REAL second honeymoon.  And maybe even the 
first."  Mulder accentuated his point with a kiss on Scully's nose.
	
<Shit!  Where's a Justice of the Peace when you need one?  I wonder if 
Tammy can arrange that.>
	
Mulder smiled at her, "I love you, Mrs. Mulder," he said quietly.
	
"I love you too, Mr. Mulder," she answered, as she leaned in for a 
soulful kiss, and then turned over on her back, bringing Mulder's body 
over hers.
	
<Hey, Mulder.  You like football.  Show me a little of this instant 
replay stuff.>
	
	
MONDAY, MAY 1, 2000
J. EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING
WASHINGTON D.C.


Deputy Director Alvin Kersh slid the two white sheets of paper across 
his desk.  CGB Spender, putting out his cigarette, speculated aloud, "I 
assume this is the good news we've been waiting for."

"It is," Kersh replied, "In accordance with their requests, Agent Scully 
has been reassigned to her former teaching position at Quantico, and 
Agent Mulder is heading back to the Behavioral Science Unit.  The great 
profiler will be where he belongs, effective one week from today."

Spender picked up the pieces of paper, read them over, chuckled to 
himself, and then handed them back to Kersh.
	
"Alvin, why didn't we think of this sooner?"	


FINI