TITLE:  The Move
AUTHOR:  PD
DISCLAIMER:  Yeah. Mm hm... I'm sorry, what? 
CLASSIFICATION:  MSR.  It's farce.  It's fluff.  It's farcical 
fluff. 
RATING:  R 
SPOILERS:  None
ARCHIVAL:  Gossamer, no thanks. Stories will be housed at my site 
only. If you'd like to link, I'd love it, but please drop me note 
with a heads up.   
SUMMARY:  For the most part, all aborted sexual encounters aside, 
moving day for Scully was proceeding relatively well.  There had 
been no major injuries, it wasn't raining, and the guacamole hadn't 
stained.  Of course, the day was only half over.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Beta thanks to cofax, Shari and Jean.  Well, it's 
only been - what?  Seven years?  (More at the end.)

For Dasha.  Because she double dog dared me.  

All stories can be found at http://pages.sbcglobal.net/syzygial/

FEEDBACK:  If you feel compelled...  syzygial@sbcglobal.net

   


*******************
The Move


By PD
*******************


Scully's Apartment
Georgetown
7:58 AM


The landscape of her dream faded completely when she opened her 
eyes. She had a vague recollection of sweaty men and their muscles 
in undershirts, but she couldn't put a circumstance to it. She 
blinked into the morning sun peeking through the blinds and decided 
that it didn't really matter. 

Mulder lay on his side facing her. His arm wound below her breasts 
and snaked under her arm. His leg took up residence between hers. As 
he snuffled in his sleep against her shoulder, the aroma of morning 
breath wafted around them.

"Jesus, Mulder."

"Hmm?" he asked, not really conscious yet. 

She stroked his arm. "Morning," she whispered. 

"Mm," he said and tightened his grasp. "Time izzit?"

She glanced at the clock. "Eight. We have to get up. They'll be here 
soon."

"Not 'till nine," he said when he finally opened his eyes. He 
hovered over her, blinked sleepily and yawned. 

Scully patted his chest, reached toward her bedside table and with 
all the love and affection she could muster, offered him a Tic Tac. 
"I love you," she said. "Suck on this. Please."

Mulder chuckled, opened his mouth, and she popped the little white 
candy onto his waiting tongue. She popped another into her own mouth 
and clasped her hands around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered 
and pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss... 

* * * * 

Joined together, she moved over him slowly, savoring, sighing and 
whispering everything he was doing right.

She eventually determined that the harsh pounding invading her ears 
was not coming from the headboard.

"Hey! We're standing out here!" she heard from the general vicinity 
of her front door.

"Ignore it," Scully said as she reached between them and touched her 
fingers to Mulder's. "More."

"You close?" he asked.

Scully frowned in concentration. "No. Don't rush me."

"Hey!" they heard again followed by more pounding on Scully's front 
door. 

Mulder peeled his hands away from Scully's body and slapped them 
over his ears. He started humming a tune to the tempo of their 
lovemaking. 

Scully hunched over, planted her hands firmly on either side of his 
head and began a determined harmony to his melody. Langly's fist on 
her front door lent them the beat. When their tuneless grunts gave 
way to whimpers of frustration, Scully sighed and slid off his body. 
She stared up at the ceiling. "You get the door," she said. "If I 
see them now, I can't be held responsible."

* * * * 

Jackson Towers
Arlington, VA
1:00 PM


Scully had never been a quitter. The voice within her was always 
telling her to fight for what she wanted, to strive for excellence 
and above all, completion. If you start something, finish it. This 
was her tenet, and she was sticking with it. And since she and 
Mulder had arrived at Jackson Towers Apartments a solid thirty 
minutes before the Lone Gunmen would be arriving in the van with the 
furniture, they took advantage of it.

Panting, she stumbled backwards and hit the wall hard pulling Mulder 
with her. He was fumbling at her bra clasp when they heard the 
banging on the door and Frohike's voice brimming with annoyance. 

"Hey! Come on!" he whined. "This thing is heavy!"

Her head dropped against his chest. 

"Oh, God dammit," Mulder announced.

"That's two, Mulder."

He pushed away from the wall and mournfully looked her up and down. 
Her top was hanging open and her hair was mussed and flopped over to 
the other side of her face. "You better, uh -," he said and waved 
his hands in the air in front of her.

She pursed her lips. "I'd better what? Do I look freshly fucked, 
Mulder?" She buttoned her top. "Let me remind you, I am not."

"Hey!" Frohike called again.

"Scully, this isn't my fault."

"I know, I know," she sighed. 

"Hey!" from Frohike again.

"I'm coming!" Scully yelled and marched down the hallway, muttering 
unintelligibly the rest of way.

She got to the front door, took a calming breath and pulled it open. 
Frohike, Byers and Langly were sitting on her couch in the hallway 
outside drinking Mountain Dews and eating burritos. She eyed them 
before she focused on a spot on the fabric of her couch. "That 
better not be guacamole."

* * * * 

Jackson Towers
Arlington, VA 
2:45 PM


For the most part, all aborted sexual encounters aside, moving day 
for Scully was proceeding relatively well. There had been no major 
injuries, it wasn't raining, and the guacamole hadn't stained. Of 
course, the day was only half over.

"Shit!"

Scully furrowed her brow and peered down the hall into her new 
bedroom. 

"Mulder? You okay?" she asked from the hall. 

"I'm fine," he said and poked his head through the doorway. "Dropped 
the dresser on my foot." He held up a hand when she moved toward 
him. "It's okay," and he raised a sneakered foot so she could see 
that he still had one. "No damage." He grinned and disappeared back 
into her bedroom...

Her brand new, never been used bedroom. 

Central air! All new kitchen appliances! On-site gourmet market! 
Fitness center! Pool! Secure parking! Alarmed entry! Walk to Metro! 

This, from the ad screaming for her attention last Saturday morning. 
She went mainly out of curiosity. She'd have a look, scan the 
neighborhood, grab a bite to eat. She'd wound up giving them a list 
of references, a check for a great deal of money and a promise to be 
moved in by the following Saturday. 

Despite the alarming speed with which she had made her decision to 
move, she didn't think it had been a hasty one. There was no sense 
of urgency behind it. That all the pieces had tumbled into place 
with such ease was simply a matter of good fortune. She was ready, 
this came along, and for once, she seemed to be having a wave of 
good luck - or at least, not as much bad luck. 

Just five miles from DC, the building was relatively old and 
therefore, had an old building charm, but it had new building 
features. And it was in Arlington. Mulder blinked at her from behind 
his glasses and remarked on this new convenience. "I love 
sleepovers, Scully." Her new apartment had two bedrooms, a dining 
area, two large bathrooms, a huge kitchen and a charming, balcony-
adorned living room in which, to the best of her knowledge, no one 
had died.

She'd signed the eighteen month lease in the manager's office and 
rode the elevator back to the sixth floor for the "it's mine" look 
around. Of course, all flaws become visible in the harsh light of 
$1600 a month. She was happy to note that there were surprisingly 
few. She'd found a stress crack here and there, a bit of water 
damage in the master bathroom - nothing a little caulk couldn't take 
care of - and a tiny chip in one of the pristine, white tiles in the 
kitchen counter. 

It was big, airy and NASA-like in its security. In addition to 
alarms and coded entries, there was a night guard in the parking 
garage and a security officer stationed in the lobby at all times. 
She had made a point of running them all through NCIC when she 
returned to work on Monday. 

"Crap!" she heard from the bedroom. Then, "I'm okay!"

She smiled and went back to her mighty task in the kitchen: The 
distribution of the dishes. 

Moving was never a picnic under the best of circumstances, but 
Mulder had happily offered his services when she told him the news. 
He also generously offered the services of the Gunmen. 

"They'd love to, Scully. Trust me," he'd said.

"Mm hm."

"They'd do anything for you."

"Mm hm."

So, rather than call a professional moving company, Scully rented a 
truck, and Mulder and the three Gunmen proved their allegiance to 
her with their brawn. She was charmed at their initial enthusiasm, 
but as the day wore on, and all the furniture got heavier, she was 
certain that Frohike would be installing undetectable bugs and well-
placed cameras just to spite her. She made it a point to be 
especially nice to him. She also made it a point to remind him that 
she could kick his ass without breaking a sweat.

"Fuck!" Again, from the bedroom. 

She sent out a silent apology to her new neighbors. She put the last 
of her wine glasses in the cupboard and made her way into the 
bedroom. The spectacle she encountered was enough to make her gasp. 
Mulder, dressed simply and quite appropriately for the day in shorts 
and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, was balanced precariously on 
the window ledge, half in and half out of the bedroom. With Olympian 
agility, Scully vaulted boxes and suitcases and seized his arm 
before he surely plunged to his death.

"Mulder! What the hell are you doing?" 

"Scully, don't pull."

"What are you *doing*?" She had no intention of letting go.

"The pigeon," he said. "It's making off with your screws."

Scully frowned and poked her head between Mulder's legs to look out 
the window. The accused pigeon was looking back at her, its newest 
treasure hooked into its beak. 

"I left the little baggie of screws for the mirror on the ledge, and 
the little bastard just walked off with it, Scully." He thrust his 
bleeding hand in front of her face. "And the little fucker pecked 
me."

Scully snorted her amusement and craned her neck so she could see 
his face. From this particular angle, however, her view of his face 
was obstructed by the bulging contents of his shorts. Her tongue 
crept to the corner of her mouth. She quickly reminded herself that 
they were six stories up and there was a building with a very good 
view of them across the street. Now would not be a good time to pick 
up the dropped balls. So to speak.

"Mulder."

"What?" He was not amused. He was being bested by a pigeon.

She bit her lip, grinned at him and pulled herself back into the 
bedroom. "Come down from there. We can get more screws. I really 
don't think it's worth you falling six floors to your death."

"Seven," he said and jumped down. "There's a lobby."

"I appreciate the effort, but I'd really rather you didn't die over 
a few screws. That just seems wrong."

"It's the principle." He scrutinized his bleeding fingers. "I was 
being taunted."

She turned his bleeding hand in hers. "Did the pigeon do this?"

"No, I sliced it on the razor tool before. But it saw blood and 
wanted more." 

She inspected his hand. "I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. Come 
here. Let's get that cleaned up."

She led him into the bathroom and held his hand under the tap. 
Mulder hissed as the water hit the sliced flesh of his finger. 

"Sorry." Scully said as she wrapped his finger in a tissue. "You 
gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," he said and tugged on his lower lip. "It'll pass." 

Scully gazed up at him and let a chuckle escape. "Sorry, Mulder. 
Come on. Let's take a break." 

Mulder trailed behind Scully into the kitchen and hopped onto the 
counter. Scully rummaged through the ice chest on the floor. "Where 
are the guys, anyway?"

"Sent 'em on a deli run."

Hmm... "All three of them?" she asked.

He sighed. "You know them. They're inseparable." 

She thrust a beer into his fist and hopped up on the counter beside 
him. He smiled at her and hooked his left foot behind her right. 
They swung their legs together in casual contentment. "I like it 
here," he said. "And I'm glad you're so much closer."

She looked up at him and smiled. "It really wasn't intentional, you 
know." She trailed her index finger down his thigh and back up again 
to the edge of his shorts. "You, Mulder, are all sweaty."

He put his beer down, leaned closer and touched his forehead to 
hers. "But I got the bedroom fixed up in record time," he said. 

Her eyes slipped shut and she rubbed her forehead against his. "When 
are the guys coming back?"

"Oh, any minute now, I'm sure," he said.

She reached under his shirt, and her fingers danced over the damp 
skin of his chest. "I won't take long," she whispered and suctioned 
her lips to his. If this was going to happen, they'd have to be 
quick and dirty. 

"Here?" he asked as he released her lips and hopped off the counter. 
He stood between her legs and reached for the button fly of her 
jeans. She nodded and reached into his loose shorts. "We didn't get 
to the counters in your old place," he whispered in his pre-sex 
rasp. 

"Juice Master," she breathed.

"Excuse me?"

"And the blender. And the pasta maker. There was no room. Hurry up." 

He fumbled open the buttons on her jeans. "Have you *ever* used that 
pasta maker?" he asked and was answered by the chiming of the 
doorbell.

Scully whimpered and dropped her head against his shoulder. "That's 
three," she said morosely. 

"Scully, I'll give you a million dollars if you can resist getting 
the door."

She whimpered again and pushed him back so she could jump down. "Too 
much pressure," she said and left him alone to contend with his 
breezy nylon shorts.

Buttoning her jeans, Scully maneuvered passed boxes and haphazardly 
placed furniture to the front door and peeked out the peep hole. She 
opened the door for her smiling mother. 

"Mom," she said, not hiding her surprise. She stepped back to allow 
her entry. "What are you doing here?" 

Margaret Scully pecked her daughter's cheek as she passed and began 
the task of scrutinizing without looking too terribly nosy. "I 
wanted to see your new apartment." 

"You like it?"

"Hm. I do. It's very nice. It's bigger than I thought. And you 
certainly have interesting security guards downstairs."

"I think his name is Frank."

"No, no. There were three of them." 

"Oh. Well, anyway, we're not quite finished. The furniture isn't 
even all in yet. Maybe you'd like to come back -"

"Oh, nonsense. I'll take the tour without a guide," her mother said, 
touring without a guide. 

"Oh, Mom there are boxes everywhere..."

Her mother turned and waved a dismissive hand behind her as she made 
her way down the hall. "I'll just take a quick look. You don't mind, 
do you?"

For some reason, Scully's mother made a beeline for the bedroom. 
Scully cocked her head and smiled as Mulder meandered out of the 
kitchen and picked his way through the clutter. He offered an 
inquisitive look.

"Mom," she whispered.

Mulder nodded, checked his shorts and wandered down the hall after 
Scully's mother. Scully heaved a sigh as his ass disappeared into 
the bedroom without her.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned to find Frohike, Byers 
and Langly standing in her doorway. 

"You realize, Agent Scully," Frohike said, "that the security in 
this building will mean zippo if you just stand there with your 
front door open for any losers that walk by."

Scully probed a molar with her tongue and narrowed her eyes at the 
little man. "Don't test me, Frohike."

He raised his hands in defense. "Okay, okay. We've got food," he 
said as if that was their only ticket back inside. 

They marched past her, a disturbing conga line of sweaty men - even 
Byers was a bit damp - smelling of kosher dills and pastrami. 

"Who had the head cheese?" Langly asked. 

* * * *

They got the rest of the furniture inside just before dark. Scully's 
mother insisted on cooking dinner while they unpacked the rest of 
the boxes.

"Mom, really. You don't need to do that," Scully said as her mother 
picked the meat from a chicken carcass with the skill of a surgeon. 

"I know. But you don't really want to eat take-out for your first 
dinner in your new home, do you?" 

Scully leaned against the kitchen entry and threw a piteous glance 
to Mulder over a sea of headless lamps in the living room. He sat 
cross-legged on the floor wiring her stereo system for sound. She 
wanted to have sex and the people around her just weren't 
cooperating. The Gunmen had glued themselves to her computer and 
were downloading programs from their server "for her personal 
enjoyment." She was curious, but didn't dare ask them to demonstrate 
with her mother in the same building. 

While the boys played with their respective toys and her mother 
cooked, Scully occupied herself in her bedroom. She now had a walk-
in closet big enough to hold everything she owned and quite a few 
things she didn't. She resolved to buy some new suits to fill up the 
empty spaces. Of course, she'd need new shoes, too. And then, as 
long as she was expanding her work wardrobe, why not augment her 
casual wear, as well? And undergarments. And she couldn't have a 
closet full of new clothes without broadening her selection of 
sleepwear, now could she? She sighed and imagined new silks and 
satins and laces adorning her body. She pictured taking Mulder by 
the hand and leading him red-faced and wide-eyed through the 
lingerie section at Macy's in New York. She pictured tugging him 
into the changing room and modeling her selections for him. She 
pictured attacking him in Calvin Klein's silky finest and covering 
his mouth with hers so their groans couldn't be heard throughout the 
store. Then she remembered that the dressing rooms were probably 
monitored and her vision of making love became a vision of them 
being carted off in cuffs, lingerie and humiliation.

"Scully?" Mulder poked his head inside the roomy closet. "Stereo's 
all hooked up." He looked proud of himself, bless his electronic 
expertise deficient little heart.

"Are they still out there, Mulder?"

"Yeah, of course. Your mom said dinner's almost ready."

Scully licked her lips. She crooked her finger in his direction, 
beckoning him into the closet with her. He grinned and stepped 
close. Scully reached around him to the door and closed them in the 
darkness together. Her hands wandered up his arms and around his 
neck.

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing?"

She stood on tip toes and licked his ear. "Something naughty, 
Mulder."

Mulder flipped the light and was treated to an eyeful of Scully's 
mischievous expression as she reached into his shorts. He made a 
sound somewhere between delighted and terrified. "Ah - Scully, I did 
say everyone's still here, didn't I?"

"Mm hm. Let's make it quick."

"Oh, boy." She divested him of his t-shirt and drew his shorts down 
to his ankles. "I don't think I can do this with your mother out 
there making a casserole." She snorted and pushed on his shoulders. 
He dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor of the closet. "And a 
pie. Really, Scully." She stepped out of her shoes and peeled off 
her jeans and panties. Mulder stared up at her. "I think it's - 
Jesus - banana cream," he said as she crouched over him and settled 
herself in his lap. 

Scully wrapped her arms around his neck. "This is better than pie," 
she said. 

Mulder wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and hauled them both 
backward until he was against the wall. "Leverage," he said. 

She gripped his shoulders and increased her speed. "Help me," she 
hissed, and he snaked a hand between them. "Have to hurry. Have to 
get home for chicken and pie." 

"Chickenandpie, chickenandpie," he said.

After roughly three minutes and forty five seconds of fast hands and 
heavy breathing, Scully's eyes slammed shut. As the waves crashed 
over her, a scream pierced the air, and Mulder clamped a hand over 
Scully's mouth. Slightly dazed and still shuddering, she pulled his 
hand away, breathless. "Mu - what are you doing?"

He blinked twice. "You didn't scream," he said matter-of-factly.

"Aaaiiii!" Scully's mother shrieked from the living room.

Horrified that hell was advancing on her new home so quickly, Scully 
heaved herself off Mulder's body with a groan. "God. Mulder." 

"Shit. I'm going." He yanked his shorts up and stumbled out of the 
closet. 

Scully snatched her crumpled panties from the floor and looked 
dumbly at the crumpled scrap of cotton and elastic. There was no 
time to process the twists and turns. She dropped the panties, 
grabbed her jeans and fell against the wall trying to pull them on. 
One leg was inside out. "Dammit!" In a last ditch effort to cover 
herself, she wrapped and tied Mulder's discarded t-shirt around her 
waist and stumbled out after him. She stopped dead in her tracks 
next to him at the end of the hall. 

Her somewhat dilated blue orbs rolled and dipped as they followed 
the progress of the pigeon flying back and forth across the living 
room. She glanced up at Mulder who stood captivated, his jaw hanging 
open. 

Scully's mother screamed again as the pigeon flapped toward her in a 
substantially less than menacing fashion. Scully noted that the tone 
of the scream was one of exasperation. It was not from fear, or 
pain, or from any one of another thousand scenarios that had leapt 
to her mind in the space of the fifteen seconds it took her to reach 
the scene. Actually, the scream could have been classified as 
comical. 

It *could* have been - had she been wearing pants. Or even 
underwear. As it was, her new fashion statement barely covered her 
ass. And though Mulder stood bare-chested before family and friends, 
at least he was tucked into his shorts.

The pigeon flapped passed her mother again and Mrs. Scully 
heroically swatted at the beast with a dishtowel. "Damn, filthy, 
beady-eyed -" she said as the bird dodged her overhand.

Mulder leaned toward Scully. "Do you think it wants more screws?" 

It was at this moment that Margaret Scully took in the presence of 
her daughter and Mulder. "Dana, it came through the kitchen window 
and went for the pie. The damn bird."

The bird flapped its way toward Frohike, who ducked and swatted at 
it with a discarded flap of packing tape. The pigeon landed on 
Scully's CD player. "You want a piece of me? Punk-ass bird."

"Okay," Scully said, suddenly propelled into action and thereby 
completely forgetting her current state of dress. She strode across 
the living room, opened the sliding glass onto her balcony, took the 
dishtowel from her mother's hands and shooed the bird off her stereo 
and into the wild blue.

"You want something done..." she muttered as she closed the doors 
again and turned. All eyes were on her, gazing, scrutinizing, 
beholding. Only her mother's eyes shifted - from her daughter to 
Mulder and back, over and over. A relentless tennis match of silent 
accusations. 

Scully glanced down to thankfully find Mulder's t-shirt still in 
place. She sighed. "Um... Hm. Excuse me." Scully bit her lip, stood 
as tall as she was able, and walked into her bedroom without a 
glance back. 

Mulder cleared his throat and smiled at Mrs. Scully. "I'll be right 
back."

"Yes, you will," Mrs. Scully said quietly and turned to the nearest 
Gunman. "John?"

Byers stepped forward, his big eyes avoiding hers. "Ma'am?"

"Would you help me set the table?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Byers and followed Mrs. Scully into the kitchen.

"That bird pecked me, man," said Langly sidling up to Frohike.

"Don't bother me."

"What's wrong?"

Frohike closed his eyes. "I'm trying to burn the last 30 seconds 
into my brain. I don't ever want to forget this."

"The bird?"

Frohike opened one eye, frowned and slapped the back of Langly's 
head. "Scully's ass."

* * * *

"My ass, Mulder," Scully whispered, "was out there." She yanked on 
dark blue sweatpants and cinched them tight around her waist. "And 
now she knows."

Mulder sat on her bed and shrugged. "So? It's a great ass. And we 
were going to tell her."

"Not like this. Damn bird."

"I agree with your assessment of the bird, but I don't think this is 
as big a deal as you think it is. So, we were having sex," he 
offered calmly. "People do."

"Not in the closet with their mother in the next room."

"Scully, it's unlikely that they had any idea of what we were 
doing."

She stared blankly at him. "Nice try, Mulder."

He smiled. Scully grimaced and sat down next to him. She dropped her 
head in her hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

There was a tentative knock on the door. "Dana? Fox? Dinner's 
ready," Mrs. Scully called through the door.

Scully closed her eyes and shook her head. "We'll be right there, 
Mom."

There was a soft chuckle behind the closed door. "Do you plan to 
dress for dinner, honey?"

Mulder couldn't help it. He snickered. Scully slapped his thigh. " 
We're coming, Mom," she said in exasperation, and Mulder, annoyingly 
adolescent, laughed harder. Scully slapped him again. "Stop it."

Scully heard a thinly concealed chirp of laughter from her mother 
before her footsteps took her away.

"I can never look at my mother again," Scully said. 

Mulder took pity on her and rubbed her shoulder. "It sounds like 
she's amused, Scully." 

Scully shook her head. "She's covering," Scully said. "Tonight, 
she'll be praying that I don't burn in hell."

Mulder sighed. There wasn't much more he could do. "You are taking 
this way too hard." He stood and offered his hand. "Come on. Let's 
go eat."

* * * *

Forks clinked on plates, and Langly had an unfortunate tendency to 
slurp his soda. Other than that, dinner was a quiet affair. Scully 
ate with her head down. In doing so, she missed the glances that 
were traded around her. Occasionally, Mrs. Scully would admonish the 
men at the table with a look, and they would stop smirking. Her poor 
daughter was obviously in great turmoil.

"Mrs. Scully," Mulder said and everyone jumped. "This is really 
delicious."

She smiled. "Thank you, Fox." She watched Scully push her food 
around her plate. "Dana?"

Scully didn't look up. "It's good, Mom," she said and shoveled a 
forkful of chicken and noodle casserole into her mouth. Chewing, she 
finally glanced up and caught her mother and the Gunmen staring at 
her. The boys quickly became interested in their dinner. 

Mrs. Scully cocked her head at her daughter, sighed and mouthed her 
forgiveness. "It's all right."

Scully rolled her eyes, put down her fork and stood up. She tugged 
on Mulder's shirtsleeve and he stood. "Mom?" Scully gestured with a 
tilt of her head. "Do you mind?" Scully smiled an apology to the 
Gunmen and followed her mother and Mulder into the bedroom.

Scully closed the door as her mother sat casually on the trunk at 
the end of the bed and waited.

Scully took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

"Dana -"

"No, please. Let me finish. I - we were going to tell you. It's just 
gotten away from us. Opportunities kept slipping by. This was an 
extremely embarrassing and completely improper way for you to find 
out about Mulder and me." She tugged Mulder closer and grasped his 
arm for moral support. She lowered her gaze to the floor, feeling 
all of fourteen, and silently prepared herself for her mother's 
admonishment and/or a spanking.

"Well," Mrs. Scully said. "While I hardly condone your behavior, I 
understand that when you're new with someone, your heart can run 
away with your head. Frankly, your father and I did the same thing." 

Scully's eyes shot to her mother's. "Oh, it wasn't quite what 
apparently happened here, but," she said, smiling fondly at the 
memory, "it was close. Perhaps a little restraint next time, hm? Or 
at least put your clothes back on."

Scully finally allowed herself a small smile and nodded. Her mother 
nodded and pursed her lips. "Let's just forget about this little - 
incident, shall we?" She stood and moved toward the bedroom door and 
turned. "I'm very happy for you, both." Margaret Scully gave the 
bedroom a quick once-over glance and left Mulder and Scully slightly 
dumbstruck and, once again, alone.

* * * *

They returned to find the Gunmen gone and Scully's mother clearing 
the table. She put the dishes in the sink without turning to 
acknowledge them. "The boys have gone home. They said goodbye. And 
I," she said as she turned and wiped her hands on a dish towel, "am 
going to leave you two with all these dishes to do."

Scully smiled. "Thanks for cooking, Mom. Thanks for - everything."

Mrs. Scully glanced around. "It's lovely, Dana. This place seems 
like you."

They followed Mrs. Scully to the front door, and Scully and her 
mother traded another hug. "The bird only managed to touch a bit of 
the edge of the crust, honey. The rest of the pie is in the fridge."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I did say it was banana cream, didn't I?" Scully nodded, and her 
mother turned to Mulder. "Dana's father and I just loved banana 
cream," she said with a smile and breezed out the door.

Scully laid her forehead against the cool wood of the closed door 
with a soft thud. "That's more than I ever wanted to know about my 
parents," she said.

Mulder chuckled with delight. "Wow. She's a lot more tolerant than I 
thought she'd be. Did she let you have sex with boys in your room, 
Scully?"

Scully glared at him. "Oh, my God." She turned and headed into the 
kitchen.

Mulder snorted his glee and disappeared into the kitchen behind her. 
"Hey, that's a fair question... Scully? Ow." 

* * * *

The brightness of the full moon shone through the living room 
window. It and the images from the muted television bathed them in 
dancing light. They sat next to each other on Scully's new sofa, 
their island floating in a sea of boxes and the remaining clutter. 

Scully leaned against Mulder, the remnants of the pie resting in her 
lap. Mulder dipped his fork into the custard and banana and offered 
it to her waiting mouth. She hesitated and shook her head. "Nope, I 
can't eat anymore." He lifted the plate off her lap and set it on 
the floor next to the sofa. "Now I feel fat."

He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin and wrapped his arms 
around her. "I like chubby Scully."

"You like me no matter what. *I* don't like chubby Scully." She 
sighed in contentment. 

"Sleepy?" 

"Mm - relaxed. Mostly," she said. 

"The dishes in the sink are driving you insane," Mulder noted.

"It shows?"

"You're vibrating with obsessive compulsive anticipation." 

Scully sighed. "I appreciate the thought, Mom coming in and cooking, 
but really, who wants to do dishes after moving all day?"

"Yeah, I don't and neither do you, so unclench your jaw and let it 
go. Just for the night. I'll do them in the morning."

Scully snuggled in closer and smiled. "Okay."

"Okay."

Late evening city sounds drifted through the open balcony doors and 
floated around them. Scully closed her eyes and sighed as she 
digested banana cream pie and did not think about noodles and cream 
of mushroom soup hardening in her casserole dish. No, she did not 
think of this.

"Did you run hot water into the dishes?" she whispered.

"Whispering doesn't make it less obsessive," he whispered back, eyes 
closed. "Yes, they're soaking."

"'Kay." She smiled and glanced up at him. His eyes were closed; he 
was fading fast. "Thank you for today."

"Mm hm."

"You know, technically, we have unfinished business," she offered. 

"There's nothing technical about it, Scully. It is unfinished at 
quite a basic level for some of us."

She mock pouted and rubbed his shoulder. "Sorry to put you through 
all that." 

He smiled and glanced down at her, eyes at half mast. "Anytime. I 
love a good sex farce."

"You're very adaptable," she said weaving her fingers into the hair 
at his nape.

"Well, we do what we can," he said and leaned over to kiss her, a 
soft brush over her lips.

"You're tired," Scully observed.

"There are levels of exhaustion, Scully. The prospect of sex is a 
healing orb."

Scully squinted at him. "Is that video game talk? Did Frohike 
download lurid games onto my computer?"

Mulder shrugged. "The graphics are fantastic. It's very cinematic."

"I see." Scully smiled at him. "So, real life or fantasy, Mulder?"

"Hmm."

"I might be able to manage the healing orb and an Orcish axe, but I 
can't guarantee anything Elvish."

"Ooo, Scully. I love it when you talk Tolkien."

Scully leaned in close, her lips to his ear. "Gandalf," she 
whispered.

He took her hand and stood. "Come on. That healing orb is kicking 
in."

Scully smiled, stood with him and together they abandoned the dishes 
and the clutter for real life.

"You can be Galadriel," he said as they approached the bedroom.

"Only if you can get Viggo Mortensen to join us."

"Okay, okay," he said as they disappeared into the bedroom. "Say 
goodbye to Middle Earth."

"Stop talking, Mulder."

"Right. The Age of Men is over, Scully. Ow."



END




AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: Okay, this was written about seven years ago and 
never posted. There was something about it I just wasn't comfortable 
with. Quite frankly, I think I had gone way over the top, and this 
story wound up on the wrong side of NC-17. 

So, this new version is not so much watered down, but rather 
judiciously edited. Not only for the smuttiest of smut, but for odd, 
pigeon-centric scenes and some obscure references to Christopher 
Walken that are best left in my snippets file. Cryptic enough? :)

Also, please note that you were not subjected to the title "The 
Walken Closet Chronicles."