Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder walked down
the corridor of F.B.I. headquarters toward the office
of their boss, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. A
few of the agents they passed greeted them with brief
smiles or nods of acknowledgment. Most either ignored
them or waited until they had passed and made sotto
voice comments about "Spooky and Mrs. Spooky".

Scully and Mulder ignored the comments until they
heard one incredibly young-looking field agent - she
must have been fresh out of the academy - ask
innocently, "Are they really married? I didn't think
the bureau allowed partners to do that."

This caused Mulder's face to crease into the
devastating smile that he reserved for Scully alone,
but rarely bestowed upon her during working hours.
"Yeah," he muttered directly into her ear as they
entered Skinner's office, "we really are. How many
bureau paperpushers are going to have heart attacks
when they find that out?"

"I'm not worried about the paperpushers," Scully said
with a sexy smile of her own. "What I'm worried about is the number of female agents - not to mention secretaries and researchers - who are going to become suicidal when they realize you are MINE for all time, not just until the bureau decides to reassign us."

"Won't be any higher than the number of male agents
who want to kill themselves once they realized who the so-called Ice Queen has been getting steamy with!"

The partners were still smiling at each other when the were shown into Skinner's office.

"You two care to share the joke?" he asked testily.

"Uh, it's nothing, sir," Scully said quickly.

Mulder remained quiet. He had learned things usually
went smoother with their boss if he let Scully do most of the talking.

"We've got another possible black oil death," Skinner
said.

"What?" Scully asked, amazed.

"Where?" Mulder demanded.

"The body was found in Minnesota," Skinner answered.
"I managed to pull some strings, persuade the CDC in
Atlanta to let us autopsy it out at Quantico. It's a
41-year-old male. Agent Scully, as soon as we've
finished up here you'll go out there and perform the
autopsy. I don't think I need to remind you that
extreme caution should be used - treat the corpse as
at least a level three biohazard."

"What about me?" Mulder asked.

"I've got you booked on a flight out of Dulles that
leaves in less than two hours. I know the time
schedule's tight, but you're used to that. Get on up
to Minnesota, see what you can find out, but - and I
stress this STRONGLY, Agent Mulder - stay out of the
way of the CDC doctors who are investigating this as a possible public health hazard."

"Uh, wouldn't it be better for me to wait for Scully
to finish up with the autopsy, then go up with her?
That way we'd know what, exactly we're dealing with."

"I want you up there tonight, Agent Mulder. I realize
that the two of you function better as a team, but I
presume you are both capable of spending a day or two
apart without going psycho on me!"

"Er, yes sir, of course," Scully said. She and Mulder
were both thinking the same thing. It would be the
first night they had spent away from each other in the nearly six months of their marriage.

"Agent Scully, why don't you head on out to Quantico," Skinner said. The tone of his voice made it an order, not a suggestion. "I'll give your partner a few more details, then he can call you for the autopsy results this evening."

"Um, sure," Scully said. Shit!! she thought, we don't
even get to go back down to our basement office
together. We can't even say goodbye the way most
married couples do in public, with a quick kiss and a
hug. She settled for a brief squeeze of Mulder's broad shoulder and a breezy smile in his direction. "You know you have a tendency to get yourself in trouble when I'm not around, Mulder. Try to avoid it this time."

"I'll do my best, Scully. I'll give you a call this
evening."

Scully rotated her shoulders as she tabulated the
final results of her autopsy. Skinner had been on
track.  It was exaclty what he'd assumed.

Her cell phone chirped just as she was printing out a
hard copy. She smiled when the caller I.D. flashed her husband's number.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice soft and sultry.

"Oooh! Is that a professional way for an F.B.I.
employee to answer a call from another agent?"

"I knew it was you."

"What have you got for me?"

"Well. . ."

He chuckled. "I mean as far as autopsy reports,
Scully!"

She bit back a small sigh. Fun as it was, phone
flirting was liable just to leave them both feeling
uncomfortably aroused, as well as delaying their
actual reunion. "It's what we thought, Mulder," she
said briskly. "The same thing we saw in those bodies
we got out of the federal buildings in Dallas."

"Are you taking precautions? We don't know yet exactly how that stuff is spread, but we do know it can be lethal."

"Mulder, I may be immune. I've been vaccinated,
remember?"

"Scully, I don't want you taking any chances! We don't know how long the vaccine lasts."

"I'm being careful, Mulder. I promise."

"Okay. I'm going to look around here some more.
Hopefully, I'll be back in D.C. late tomorrow evening. Otherwise, you can join me out here. I'll call you back later tonight."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Once she arrived home, Scully scanned the apartment.
Funny how empty it seemed without Mulder's presence.
She'd lived here for years without him, but in the
past few months it had really become "home". But only
when they were both there.

Shrugging out of her work ensemble, Scully tried to
decide what to put on. It seemed too late to change
into jeans and a T-shirt, but still too early to put
on her nightclothes. She smiled to herself as she got
an idea. Stripping down to her skin, she picked up the shirt her husband had discarded - in one hell of a hurry, if she remembered correctly - the night before. She pulled it on. The tail of the shirt came all the way to her knees and she had to roll back the cuffs several times for her hands to poke out, but she sighed with satisfaction once she had it on.

Moving to the kitchen, she checked the mail and
answering machine, then grabbed herself a bite to eat. She decided to do a couple of loads of laundry, clean out the refrigerator and pay some bills. Somehow, she rarely got around to such mundane activities when Mulder was here with her. Finally, she put on her glasses and settled down in front of the computer to work.
 
It was after eleven that evening when Mulder finally
called back. By this time she'd moved into their
bedroom, but she was still working with papers spread
over the bed. It was a way she'd sometimes worked in
her single days, but lately she and her husband had
made much better use of the bed!

"Scully," she said briskly into the receiver.

"You're weird, Scully," her husband replied.

"Why? Not that I would dispute you to be an expert on
weirdness."

"Because you answer you bureau-issued cell phone with
a sexy "hello" and our phone at home with a
business-like "Scully". Shouldn't it be the other way
around?"

"Well, when you call me from your cell, I know it's
you. This time, the caller I.D. is just flashing some
some strange number. You must be on a landline from
the motel."

"Yeah. I prefer landlines when possible, especially
when dealing with this crud. What have you been doing
this evening?"

"Oh, laundry, paying bills, cleaning up."

"Wow, you really get into this "wifey" stuff, don't
you?"

"Mulder, my favorite "wifey stuff", as you put it,
requires my husband's presence! This is just to give
me something to do until you come home."

He was silent and she finally muttered, "Mulder, I can HEAR you smirking!"

"How can you hear a smirk, Scully?"

Deciding to change the subject, she said, "Do you
think the death is the result of alien intervention?"

"Dana?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Mulder, I don't think that's relative."

"Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Um, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Whew! Must be good! What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Your shirt."

"My shirt?"

"Mmmhmm. The one you took off in such a hurry last
night."

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath at the
mental picture of his petite, redheaded wife in one of his white button-down shirts. "I'll bet you look
better in it than I ever did."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Fox."

"What else?"

"Er, my glasses," said Scully with a smile. This was
getting to be fun. She knew her glasses drove him
crazy. For that matter, his did the same thing to her.

He groaned softly into the phone. "Anything else?"

"Um, my cross necklace. And our rings. I put mine on
my finger as soon as I got home. Yours is still on the other necklace, so I'm wearing it, too."

"I wish I had my ring. I was going to grab it from you in our office, if Skinner had let us run back down there before we went our separate ways."

"Is that ALL you intended to grab, Agent Mulder?"

"Is that ALL you're wearing, Agent Scully?"

"Mmmhmm," she purred into the phone.

"I wish I were home."

"I wish you were, too. And I noticed you didn't answer my question. Think you'll be back by tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, hopefully. We haven't found any more victims.
The area where the one you autopsied was found is
pretty remote, so I think he probably died before he
had a chance to spread it. Also, this is Minnesota in
late autumn, not Texas in the summer. We know cold
inhibits the progression of the virus."

"I love you." Scully supposed this was a bit of a non
sequitur, but she didn't care.

"I love you, too. Although I'm not sure I care for
your implication that I would have behaved in a
less-than-professional manner and tried to cop a quick feel if Skinner had let us go back to the basement for a few minutes together."

"Mulder, I'm not sure you would have stopped at a
quick feel!"

He laughed, the said, "Sweetheart, when I come home
will you wear just what you have on right now?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I do. I think I'd better hang up now."

"Why? I like talking to you."

"I like talking to you, too, but I prefer hearing you
whisper in my ear in person, not through the phone
lines and the sooner we get this case wrapped up, the
sooner I'll be home."

"Well, when you put it that way. . ."

"You've got the number of where I am?"

"Yeah."

"All right, then. Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, lover."

The next morning a grouchy Scully sipped her third cup of coffee and scowled at her computer. Two were
usually her limit, but she'd barely slept, having
grown used to the warm presence of her husband in bed
beside her.

A knock on the door resulted in her hollering out,
"What?" irritably.

"Uh, Dana? Here's that research you asked for," said
Holly Patterson, who sometimes assisted Scully and
Mulder on their cases.

"Oh. Thanks, Holly."

"You're welcome. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just
that Mulder's in Minnesota and. . ." Scully realized
that she'd sort of boxed herself into a verbal corner.

"Would you like to go get some lunch? It's almost
noon," Holly suggested, smiling softly. Although
nearly ten years younger than Scully, she was still
savvy enough to make the connection between her
missing partner and the churlish mood of the other
woman.

Scully considered. Holly was probably the closest
thing she had to a girlfriend anymore. Other than her
mother and husband, she didn't really have a lot of
close relationships. "Why yes, Holly. That would be
nice. Where would you like to go?"

Soon the two women were seated in a booth at a quiet
restaurant a few blocks away from F.B.I. headquarters. "This is nice. You have much better taste in restaurants than Mulder. He always chooses these awful greasy-spoon places," Scully said. "Well, usually. He did find us some delicious barbecue when we were on a case in Wisconsin once."

"Know who Mulder sort of reminds me of?"

"Who?" Scully couldn't imagine her husband reminind
Holly of anyone else. God had truly broken the mold
when he made Fox Mulder.

"Batman," said Holly, with a small smile.

"Okay. I get the skulking around hunting for criminals in the dark part of the analogy. Although I don't think Mulder has an alter ego as a wealthy playboy. Who am I, Robin?"

"No, you're Catwoman. Did you ever see that Batman
movie, I think it was the second one, with Catwoman in it?"

"Yes, I did. Just once, though, and it was years ago.
Before Mulder and I were together."

"It's just. . .there's a part in there, where Bruce
Wayne tells Catwoman - except when she's not being
Catwoman, you know - that he's got kind of a dark
side. And she tells him she doesn't mind, it's the
normal guys who worry her; at least psychos are
capable of committment! I was watching that movie on
video again the other night and somehow that line just made me think of you two."

"Yeah, I suppose it fits. At least we get to be on the same side. Wasn't Batman always trying to put Catwoman in jail?"

"Usually, but sometimes he'd let her go. And she never did anything really bad. I mean, she never killed anyone. Mostly she just stole stuff."

"I wish the criminals Mulder and I fight would wear
funny costumes to identify themselves. It would make
our job a lot easier!"
 
The lunch put Scully in a better mood and she was able to finish up her paperwork shortly before five. Of course, the faintly suggestive e-mail she'd received from Mulder had helped, too. He was too paranoid to put anything really sexy on a computer whose access might be breached, but she was able to read between the lines and get the double entendres behind some of his seemingly innocent statements.

She went home and, as promised, changed into the same
outfit she'd been wearing the previous evening. It was almost ten when the phone call she'd been waiting for came.

"Hi," she purred.

"Hey, Scully, it's me," he said. "I think I've got a
solid lead on this thing."

"Really?" she asked, her personal desire momentarily
being overcome by her professional curiosity.

"Yeah, but I don't want to discuss it now. I'll be
home in less than an hour. I'll tell you about it
then."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

The call had been intercepted. The Cigarette-Smoking
Man nodded at his bald-headed accomplice. "Okay, we
need to do it now. Get over to his apartment and
release the gas. Remember, not enough so that it's
noticeable when he first walks in, but enough that it
will cause short term memory loss - or maybe even
something more drastic - before he can get back out."

Meanwhile, Scully wondered if she should change into
something less suggestive. She didn't want Mulder to
think the only think she was interested in was - well, THAT - when he obviously had important news involving an ongoing case to share with her. The problem, she admitted to herself ruefully, was that she honestly didn't care as much about whatever leads he had found as she did about feeling his arms around her again. She decided to stay as she was. He could always tell her to put more clothes on if he wanted to work and she was distracting him.

Mulder unlocked the door and gave in to an urge for
kitsch. "Hi, honey, I'm home," he called in his best
Dick Van Dyke as Rob Petrie imitation.

"Hi," said Scully, getting up from the couch.

Wow! Mulder thought. Mary Tyler Moore sure never
looked like that. He quickly set his his brief case
and overnight bag on the table, shrugged out of his
trench coat and began advancing toward her.

Scully giggled as she watched Mulder walk toward her.
She didn't even need to look down to know he was
getting stiff. It was obvious from the look on his
face. Giving into an urge to tease him, she backed up
slowly, until she was flush against the far wall of
the living room.

"What did you find out about the case?" she asked
breathlessly.

"It'll wait," he replied. Then he bent his head to
kiss her.

That was all it took. One gentle touch of his lips and she was gone. The teasing was over. All thoughts of the X-Files were completely banished from her mind. The only thing she could think of was him and what they were about to do. She moaned and writhed against him.

"Why, Dr. Scully! I do believe you're glad to see me," Mulder said when he finally came up for air.

"Please, Fox. Don't tease me. Not tonight."

"I'm not, honey," he said, his voice gentle as he
lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his
waist. "I'm just trying to hang on long enough to get
us to the bedroom, so I don't take you right here."

"I wouldn't mind," she murmured.

"I know, but the neighbors might object if we pounded
the wall so hard all their pictures fell down!"

Scully concentrated on kissing his neck while he
carried her into their bedroom.

"Geez, Scully, have I taken you on one too many
vampire cases? You're going to give me a love bite if
you keep that up!"

"You gave me one just last week!"

"Yeah, but that was on your. . .well, it couldn't be
seen when you were dressed for work!"

"This won't be, either. I'm kissing you way down low,
right where your neck meets your shoulder."

"Well, it's nice, but I can think of something better
for you to do with your mouth."

Scully giggled again when Mulder dumped her on the bed and smiled down at her. Damn, she looked scrumptious in that shirt of his! Not to mention her glasses. And the way the shirt had ridden up while he was carrying her, exposing just a tiny glimpse of her. . .Whew! he'd better get out of his clothes while it was still physically possible.

"Need help?" Dana asked, scrambling up to a kneeling
position on the bed and reaching for his tie.

"Not this time," he said, grabbing her hands and
giving her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth. "You just
sit back and watch." Stepping a few feet away from the bed, Mulder began to take off his clothes. He wasn't deliberately going slowly, but he wasn't giving in to his urge to rip his clothes off in record time, either. Just pretend she's not here, he told himself, and get undressed like you normally do. Pretty hard mission to accomplish when Dana was bouncing up and down on the bed like a kid waiting for it to be her turn to go on a pony ride at the county fair!

Mulder managed to get out of his jacket and tie, kick
off his shoes and remove his holster and socks before
Scully got up from the bed and walked toward him.
"You're going too slowly," she said. "Let me help."

"Nope," he said, pushing her gently back down on the
bed. "You wait."

He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, then
reached for his belt buckle. As he was removing his
slacks, Scully started unbuttoning her shirt. Well,
technically HIS shirt, but the one she was wearing.
She tossed it aside just as he was easing the brief
gray boxers he was wearing over his raging erection.
She also removed her glasses and set them on the
nightstand.

"Wow! Since your gun is over there, that must mean
you're definitely happy to see me," Scully said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah! Remember when I said I could think of better things for you to do with your mouth?'

"Mmhmm," she murmured, scooting closer to the edge of
the bed, still sitting back on her haunches. She let
him tangle his hands in her red hair while he guided
her mouth down to his arousal. She began licking and
sucking him, stopping only briefly to smile up at him.

Mulder felt like his knees were about to give out. As
pleasurable as this was, if he didn't get her to quit
now the fun was going to be over before it even
started.

"Dana, sweetheart, stop."

"Okay, on one condition. I get to get on top of you."

"Well, sure, sweetheart," he replied, slightly
puzzled. They usually made love with her on top. She
was so tiny and he sometimes worried about hurting her in the missionary position, although she insisted he never had.

She sensed his confusion and smiled up at him
wickedly. "I mean NOW!"

"Oh. Don't you want me to. . ."

"NOW, Fox!" she answered, dragging him forcefully down on the bed and tugging him over onto his back. Then she quickly straddled him and sheathed her arousal inside her. She let out a long, whimpering moan.

"Tell me what you want, Dana."

"Your mouth. On my breasts."

He leaned up to comply as she pressed down more firmly on him. Scully always made love with passion and eagerness, but he'd never seen her quite this frantic before. He'd been that way once with her, he
remembered, waking up in the middle of the night with
a need so intense it bordered on desperation; taking
her almost before she was awake enough to realize what they were doing. He'd been remorseful afterwards, afraid he'd hurt her or at least upset her, but she she'd brushed off his apologies, saying she had been caught by surprise but that it had actually been kind of fun.

So now he gave in to her need for a quick, intense
climax, sucking with gusto on first one breast, then
the other. She squirmed on top of him wildly and came
with a scream of his name.

"You okay?" he asked a few moments later, brushing the hair back from her face.

"I'm great!" she grinned down at him. "But we still
seem to have some unfinished business to attend to.
Want me to spread my legs wider?"

"No, hold on tight. I'm going to flip us."

Scully tightened her hold on her husband - arms around his neck and legs squeezing his hips - as he pushed over onto his knees without slipping out of her. She landed on her back, smiling up at him.

"What do you want?" she whispered. He could tell she
was beginning to get sleepy, the way she often did
after she climaxed, but knew she would hang on long
enough to make sure he was fulfilled, too.

"Lift your legs up real high on my back. As high as
you can get them without it being uncomfortable for
you."

She complied eagerly and he moaned, feeling himself
push even deeper into her as she inched her legs up
until they were almost to his shoulders. He began
moving in her and soon realized he was almost as
frantic as she had been, slamming their bodies
together with such force that a tiny part of his mind
wondered if she'd be sore in the morning. Then he
wasn't thinking anymore, just feeling, as his climax
tore through him and he buried his face in her hair,
calling out her name.

Mulder collapsed on top of his wife. Suddenly, he was
sleepy, too. It didn't usually hit him this hard and
this quick, but he'd barely slept at all the previous
night, deprived of her presence in a lonely motel
room.
 
"I love you," she whispered, caressing his back.
 
"I love you, too. I'm very glad to be home, back in
our our bed," he paused and pushed gently against her, "back inside you."
 
"Well," she yawned, "you can stay in bed with me,
lover, but I'm afraid eventually you're going to have
to,"

Their pillow talk was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door of her apartment and a familiar voice hollering out, "Agent Scully! I need to talk to you!"

Dana and Fox looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
"Skinner," they said simultaneously.

"Get up," Scully said, pushing against his shoulders.
"I've got to see what he wants. He wouldn't just show
up like this if it wasn't urgent." Mulder rolled off
of her and she slid out of bed, reaching for a robe
and tugging it on. They could both hear Skinner
pounding on the door and continuing to call her name.

Scully went to the door, took a quick look through the peephole to make sure it was, indeed, their boss, then unlocked and opened the door. "Come in, sir," she said, holding the door open. "What is it?"

"Where's your partner?" Skinner barked.

"I'm here," Mulder said, emerging from the shadows.
He'd taken time to put his pants back on and had even
pulled on a shirt, but it hung unbuttoned.

Skinner looked at the two of them silently for several moments. It was obvious what they'd been doing. "We will discuss this situation later, agents. Right now I need you  both to get dressed and come with me back to bureau headquarters."

"It's nearly midnight, sir," Mulder said.

"I'm well aware of what time it is, Agent Mulder! I'm
also aware, as you obviously are not, that you were
almost killed tonight."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

"There was a leak of some sort of gas in Agent
Mulder's apartment. If he'd been there, instead of
here, he'd be in the hospital by now. That's if we
were lucky; otherwise, he'd be in the morgue."

"Do you know who?" Mulder inquired.

"I don't know, but I think we can all make a pretty
good guess," Skinner replied grimly. "That's why I
need to know everything both of you have found out, so it can be documented and why I don't think it can wait until tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir," Scully answered.

"Would you two, for God's sake, go put some clothes on so we can get out of here!" Skinner barked.

"Yes sir," Scully said again, walking back toward the
bedroom and dragging Mulder with her.

"Scully," Mulder began as she quickly dropped her robe and began to get dressed. She wished she had time for a quick shower - she knew the lingering scent of their lovemaking was still clinging to her body - but decided Skinner wouldn't appreciate being kept waiting.

"Not now, Mulder. Let's just get dressed and get out
of here. We'll deal with the ramifications later."

He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it and
nodded.

Late the following afternoon, two very tired federal
agents sat before their boss. Both Mulder and Scully
had gone for over 24 hours without sleep. For Mulder
it was more like 48, because he'd barely slept at all
alone in the motel bed in Minnesota.

"All right, I think we've got it contained," Skinner
said. "You did good work, agents."

"Can we go now?" Mulder asked.

"No. There's another matter we need to discuss and I
think you both know what it is."

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other and sighed.

"I presume you two are aware of the bureau policy
prohibiting illicit sexual relations between agents in the same division?" Skinner asked.

"We weren't having illicit sexual relations," Mulder
answered.

"You weren't?"

"No sir," Scully replied.

Skinner looked from one agent to the other, then
heaved a put-upon sigh. "Listen. For over six years,
I've heard you two spin me tales about aliens,
government conspiracies, vampires, liver-eating
mutants, criminals with psychic powers and God only
knows what else! Some of it I believed and some of it
I didn't. However, I would believe EVERYTHING you've
ever told me up to this point before I would believe
the two of you weren't having sex in that apartment
last night!"

"With all due respect, sir," Scully said, "we aren't
denying the sexual nature of our relationship, just
the illicit aspect thereof."

"Huh?"

"We're married," Mulder clarified.

"Married?" Skinner asked.

Both agents nodded.

"To each other?"

"Naturally."

"Of course."

Skinner removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of
his nose. He believed them. Somehow, it seemed to fit
that "Spooky" and "Mrs. Spooky" were married in real
life. "For how long?"

"About six months, almost six months," the agents
spoke in unison, their voices mingling together.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Skinner asked.

"Well, um, you never asked," Scully said hesitantly.
"Besides, my job description has always included
keeping an eye on Agent Mulder. I just figured I could do a better job of it, if, uh, we were together all the time."