Title: "Father's Day Fantasy"
Author: Angela W.
Category: MSR (Mulder/Scully married)
Summary: Mulder returns home from a business trip just in time for Father's Day. Told in first person, Mulder's POV.
Timespan/Spoilers: This is part of my "married" series, which diverged from the "real" XF universe about midway through season seven. Assume that everything up through "Closure" has happened, but that Mulder was never abducted and that the consummation of the MSR and birth of their child were different from the events depicted in late season seven and beyond. In my series, this comes after "Easter Revelations".
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Feedback: If it's nice or contains *constructive* criticism, feedback is welcomed.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.
I arrived home late last night from a ten-day out-of-town business trip. It's hard for me to imagine that there was a time in my life when I actually looked forward to getting out of the office and on the road. Of course, that was back in the days when Scully was my partner, not my wife, and we worked the X-Files together. Then, being on the road meant a chance to spend more time with my beloved -- to eat dinner with her and have her spend an hour or two in my motel room with me, discussing the case or just shooting the breeze, before she adjourned to her separate bed behind a shut-but-not-locked connecting door. Now, being away from home means long hours of loneliness spent yearning for those I love the most; my wife, our daughter and our unborn child.
I listen to the sounds of Dana and our little girl, Melissa, preparing breakfast. It's Father's Day, so they'll bring me breakfast in bed, and it's mandatory that I pretend to be asleep up until the moment they walk through the door. I've already made a speedy trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash the sleep out of my eyes and take care of other necessary matters. Now I'm back in bed petting Buddy, our cat. If you would have asked ten years ago what were two of the things I would have been least likely to become, "Catholic" and "a cat owner" would have probably been near the top of the list. Yet now I'm both. I've learned that love leads us down paths more intriguing than even I could possibly imagine.
"Daddy, wake up!" Melissa's voice chirps. "We bought you beckfest!"
"Breakfast in bed? For me?" I ask, sounding as utterly surprised as possible.
"Happy Fadder's Day!" Melissa says, clambering up onto the bed and scooting between me and the cat. She leans up to kiss me, then scrunches up her face. "Daddy need save," she declares.
"Yes, Daddy could probably use a shave," I agree.
"Actually, Mommy kind of like Daddy's rumpled, unshaven look," Scully says, settling the tray she's carrying across my lap. Which is probably a good thing, because it prevents Melissa from noticing the way the covers are beginning to rise right about there. Scully was definitely using her bedroom voice and it's been nearly two weeks since we last made love.
I've thought Scully gorgeous since the day we met, but she just keeps on getting better. She's nearing the end of her second trimester of pregnancy and she absolutely glows. Her breasts and belly are gently swollen and I remember from her previous pregnancy that this is the time when her desire is at its peak.
"Uh-oh, Daddy need shirt!" Melissa declares as I sit up and begin to sip my coffee.
"Melissa, honey, Daddy doesn't actually need to wear a shirt while he's still in bed," Scully says. But it's too late, Melissa has already climbed off the bed and is looking through my T-shirt drawer.
"I think you just like to ogle my chest," I murmur to Scully.
"You're right," says Scully, practically leering at me and even bringing her hand up to stroke my pecs and tug lightly at the cloud of hair in the center of my chest. I noticed early on that my chest seems to hold a great deal of fascination for Scully. Back when our only relationship was a professional one, she used to give this quick little intake of breath whenever she saw me shirtless. So I tried to make sure she saw me bare-chested as often as possible, because I treasured any hint that keeping our relationship platonic was as difficult for me as it was for her.
"Shirt for you, Daddy!" Melissa announces, waving my heather gray T-shirt above her head like a victory banner. She's obviously so proud of herself for finding my favorite that putting it on is even worth having the lust light dim in Scully's eyes. That's okay; I can relight the flame at a more appropriate time. . .when Melissa's asleep and the pussy I'm petting isn't the kind with whiskers and a tail.
We go to Mass, then return home where Scully prepares a home cooked Sunday dinner while I play with Melissa. My wife's a good cook, and I always enjoy whatever she makes, but after more than a week of cheap takeout meals, it's heavenly. It's all my favorite foods, too.
Just as we're finishing up, the phone rings. Scully answers and I watch a smile light up her face as she says, "When? How big? They're both doing okay? Of course, we'll be right over. Yes, it certainly is!"
"Jimmy?" I hazard a guess. Brilliant behavioral profiler that I am, I've put together clues from the expression on Scully's face, the questions that she was asking and the knowledge that Yves is a week past her due date to guess that our friends' baby has finally emerged.
"Yes. It's a girl; born around dawn this morning. Yves and the baby are both doing fine. I told him we'd come by for a quick peek."
"Baby?" Melissa asks, her eyes lighting up.
"This baby is Yves' and Jimmy's," Scully explains. "We won't get our baby for a while yet."
"Eee's baby, Jimmy's baby," Melissa agrees.
"What was that last bit? Where Jimmy said something and you answered with 'It certainly is'?"
"He asked if becoming a father on Father's Day wasn't the most perfect gift imaginable and I agree that it was."
We slip into the hospital unobtrusively, hoping the nurses won't question Melissa's presence. Generally, the only children under the age of eight allowed to visit the maternity ward are siblings of the newborns. We poke our heads into Yves' room and notice Jimmy -- who is a huge guy, bigger even than Skinner -- cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.
"Isn't she beautiful?" he asks.
"Yes, Jimmy," Scully says softly. She peeks at the baby, then walks over to drop a kiss on Yves' forehead while I lift Melissa up to look at the baby.
"What she name is?" Melissa asks, touching the baby's hand gently.
"Genevieve, because it sounds like a mixture of Jimmy and Yves," Yves answers.
"Have the other guys been by?" I ask.
"Oh yes, Jimmy called them first thing. They've gone to pick up Mummy at the airport. She'll be staying with us for a week or two."
"That's good," Scully says. "Having Grandma around to help makes the first few days easier."
After swinging by the house to change, we head out to the beach. It's crowded and noisy, but we still enjoy ourselves. Back when we were working the X-Files together, I realized that one of the few things that could tempt my by-the-book partner to play hooky was suggesting a trip to the beach. I prefer the secluded stretch of shore at our beach house in Rhode Island, but it's only worth making the trip up there with a toddler if we can spend a minimum of three nights; today we only have an afternoon.
By the time we get home, our daughter is both sandy and sleepy. Scully takes her upstairs for a bath and then gets her ready for bed. I take a quick shower in the master bedroom, then grab a beer, plop myself down on the couch and begin watching the last game of the NBA finals. It was played several days ago, and I already know who won, but I'd asked Scully to tape it for me because I didn't get to watch while I was on the road working. Normally, I'd feel at least vaguely guilty for engaging in prototypical couch potato guy fashion while my pregnant wife dealt with a cranky two-year-old, but this is Father's Day, so I figure I'm entitled. I certainly went out of my way to make sure she was pampered on Mother's Day.
When Scully summons me, I go upstairs to give Melissa a goodnight kiss and sing her a lullaby. She's asleep before the first verse is finished, her cat curled up beside her.
"So, what did you want to do for the rest of the evening?" Scully asks.
"I figure I'll finish my beer and the ball game that you taped for me, then. . ." I waggle my eyebrows suggestively and indicate our bedroom with a jerk of my head. Scully smiles and follows me back downstairs.
"Drinking a beer while watching a ball game; every man's fantasy," she comments dryly.
"No, Dana, every man's fantasy would also involve getting a blow job while drinking the beer and watching the ball game."
I click back on the TV and settled down on the couch with my beer at hand and my feet propped up on the coffee table. Scully lays down beside me with her head pillowed on my lap. She's not a big basketball fan -- to the extent that she's into sports at all she prefers football, which is what her father watched and her brothers played while she was growing up -- but I guess she just wants to be close to me.
I'm so intent on the game, and her fingers are so nimble and deft, that I don't realize what she has in mind 'til she touches the tip of my cock with the tip of her tongue. The sensation shoots through me like an electric shock. It's a good thing I've put down the beer or I would have spilled it all over both of us. Talk about keeping me guessing!
"Dana, you don't have to do this," I moan out. But my body is belying my words; my hips are bucking, trying to get her to take more of me into her mouth in a reflexive pleasure-seeking action.
"Shut up, Mulder. I want to. Watch your ball game, drink your beer and live out the ultimate male fantasy; you deserve it."
For a couple of minutes, I try to give equal time to all three of the pleasures I'm experiencing; to pay attention to the ball game and savor the beer while my cock is being licked and blown on and sucked and my balls are being caressed. Finally I decide to just go with what I'm enjoying most. I've finished the beer anyway, so I click off the TV. I don't want to be distracted from what my wife is doing to me.
Scully raises her eyes to mine when she hears the TV go off, but I smile down at her. "It's Father's Day, Dana. It's my fantasy and I reserve the right to emphasize whatever elements appeal to me the most. Keep doing what you're doing."
She continues to work me with her mouth. Pretty soon I notice a familiar musky scent in the air. Scully hopped in the tub with Melissa and changed into a pair of shortie pajamas afterwards. The bottoms of her pajamas are now sporting a wet spot at the crotch and the aroma is emitting from there. Scully's turned on by giving me a blow job and that ratchets my own arousal up a notch.
Finally, when I'm very close, I place the palm of my hand on her cheek and whisper, "Stop, Scully."
She lifts her eyes to mine, one eyebrow raised in surprise. After more than four years of marriage, Scully knows when I'm close to climaxing. I lean down so that my mouth is only a few inches above her ear and whisper, "That feels fabulous, Dana. But I want to fuck you now. Pull off those pajama bottoms you've practically soaked through and put me inside you."
Let it never be said that Dana Scully is slow to grasp an opportunity. She releases me from her mouth, yanks off both parts of her pajamas and straddles me before the words are completely out of my mouth. Then she begins to slowly lower herself onto my arousal, her softly swollen belly bumping against my flat one.
I cup Scully's butt with both my hands and give a little squeeze. Even after several years of enjoying the privilege, it still sometimes amazes me that I now have the right to play grab ass with a stark naked Agent Scully; for so long, that was merely a fantasy. She grabs hold of my biceps and wiggles happily.
"I love you," she whispers. "I'm glad you made it home in time for Father's Day."
"Me, too," I grunt. I'm very, very close, but I want Scully to have fun, too. I slip my hand between our bodies, down to a spot just above where we're joined, and tickle her just a bit. The extra stimulation pushes her over the edge and she begins to throb around me. As often happens with us, her orgasm triggers my own and our climax is virtually mutual.
As we're basking in our afterglow, with Scully still sitting atop me, the baby begins to kick. Positioned as we are, I can feel the movements against my own belly.
"Hey, buckaroo," I say softly. "Sorry if we woke you up from a nap."
"He's probably just glad to have Daddy home, too," Scully says.
"Dana, are you trying to tell me something?"
"What do you mean?"
"You referred to the baby as 'he'. Do you know something I don't?"
"I haven't had a sonogram yet, if that's what you're asking. I wouldn't do that without you! But I was thinking maybe I'd like to, this time around, about the six weeks before my due date. That way we'd know if we could just recycle most of Melissa's baby clothes or if we'd need a whole new layette."
"Fine with me. I wanted to find out with Melissa; you were the one who insisted on letting it be a surprise."
"I just. . .I don't know. . .for some reason I think this baby will be a boy. My mother said she could always tell. She gave birth to all of us in the 60s, before sonograms, but she said she always knew whether she was carrying a boy or a girl. Besides you'd like a son this time around, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah," I say slowly, "but probably not for the reasons most men do. It's nothing to do with carrying on the family name or having somebody to share sports stats with or anything like that. It's just that Melissa is so. . .perfect. I can't imagine ever loving another little girl as much as I love her. A little boy. . .well, that would be different."
"I wouldn't worry about that, Fox. My parents had four children, two of each kind, and they loved all of us. Bill and Tara have two boys and don't seem to have trouble loving both of them. But still. . .if we were a bit younger, if there were a fairly good chance we might have a third child somewhere down the road, I wouldn't have any preference this time around. Since this is almost certainly my final pregnancy, I guess I do sort of want a boy to. . .I don't know, balance things out."
"While I was away, I thought about names for this baby."
"We're still agreed on William Samuel if it's a boy, aren't we?"
"William, yes," I say. "But since Melissa's middle name is Samantha, using Samuel as a middle name, too, seems a bit like overkill. I had a different middle name in mind."
"Walter?" Scully says in disbelief. "That's so old-fashioned! Why would you. . .oh. Because of Skinner?"
"Yeah. I figured since we can name our son after both our fathers with William, since they had the same first name , it would also be nice to name him after. . .well, the man who'll be the closest thing to a grandfather he'll ever know. We've both commented on how Melissa seems to think Skinner is her grandfather; how she loves him almost as much as she loves your Mom. And he's been such a friend to us, for so long,"
I would have gone on babbling, but Scully silences me with a soft kiss. "Shh! You're right, Fox. William Walter Mulder has a wonderful ring to it. Did you think up some girl names, too?"
"If it's a girl, I was thinking maybe Katherine; your middle name. I've always liked that."
"If we named her Katherine, could we call her Kat for a nickname?"
"I guess so, if you wanted to. Why?"
"Because I think it would be cute to have somebody else in the family besides Daddy who has an animal name."
I roll my eyes at that. I hated my first name the whole time I was growing up. I've grown to like it more since we got married, as hearing Scully purr it out -- or scream it -- in the throes of passion is a turn on, but it's still not something I'd ever inflict on another innocent child. But Kat, for a little girl. Okay, that would be cute.
"Okay. And maybe Margaret for her middle name? After your Mom."
Scully's quiet for a moment then shakes her head slightly. "No, Katherine Margaret Mulder's too much of a mouthful. How about Rose, instead? That's my mother's middle name, so we'd still be naming her after Mom, but it flows better."
"Katherine Rose Mulder," I say, savoring the sound. I can almost picture her. A redhead, like Scully, instead of a brunette like me and Melissa. Fox's little Kat. Maybe I wouldn't have trouble loving another little girl as much as I love Melissa, after all. "Yeah, that's pretty."
"You ready to go on up to bed, lover? Between Melissa and little William Walter or Katherine Rose, I get tired easily these days."
I smile and nod, so we gathered up our scattered clothing and wander upstairs, holding hands.
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