Week One

I continue to kiss Scully, while holding our son in my arms. This is, without a doubt, the single best moment of my entire existance. But then it gets even better when she moves her hands down to my ass and makes a little growling noise in the back of her throat. 

When we come up for air, she murmurs, "I love you,
Mulder. I'm sorry I ever had any doubts that our love
created the baby within me."

"Shh!" I murmur. "None of that now. No more regrets.
We're here, all three of us, healthy and together.
What more could we want?"

"You lost the X-Files, Mulder. Your life's work."

"My life was about work for too damned long,
sweetheart. Now it's about you and our baby."

"You really don't mind?" she asks, lifting a skeptical eyebrow.

"No," I assure her. "I'll help Doggett occasionally if he wants me to, but only if he asks for my
assistance."

"You're not only off the X-Files, Mulder, you're out
of the bureau. What will you do?"

"I've got some ideas," I reply. "But they're all
subject to your approval. Do you remember last New
Year's Eve?"

"You mean when we kissed for the first time?" she asks with a smile.

"The kiss was the highlight of the evening," I assure
her, "but what I'm actually talking about is meeting
Frank Black. He made me an open-ended offer to join
him as a consultant, working as a profiler-for-hire,
if and when I ever left the F.B.I."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"I think so, yeah. I could do it either full-time or
part-time. That's for you to choose. I kind of feel. . .that it's probably not a good idea for both of us to work full-time while William's an infant. It's not as if we need the money, because I've still got a lot of investments and stuff from my inheritance from my
father. So I can work part-time, mostly by
telecommuniting while watching William, if you want.
Or I'll work full-time, allow you to spend more time
at home with the baby. It really doesn't matter to me, Scully."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course." 

William begins to fuss at that moment. "What does he
need?" I ask Scully.

"Probably to have his diaper changed and be fed," she
murmurs. "Why don't you watch me change him, so you'll know how to do it?"

After he's changed, Scully sits down on the bed and
pops her bra open, then slides her nipple into
William's mouth. He latches on and begins to gulp
greedily. I put my hand on her thigh and ask the
question that is suddenly burning in my brain.
"Scully, did your doctor say how long we have to wait
until we can, um. . .?"

"Make love again?" she asks, apparently understanding
where I'm headed with this. "I have a check-up
scheduled on William's six-week-birthday; he said not
to have intercourse prior to then. I'm sorry, Mulder."

"It's okay, Scully. I waited six *years* the first
time around; I think I can handle six weeks."

"If wonder if" we both say at the same time, then stop to laugh.

"You first," I say.

"Well, you offered to stay here with me for a few days after William was born, but I was wondering if you'd just like to move in on a permanent basis. I mean, we love each other and we have a child together; it seems silly for us to keep on maintaining two separate apartments."

"I'd like to go ahead and start staying here,
beginning tonight. But the three of us living together in this apartment for the rest of our lives isn't really what I want on a permanent basis."

"What, then?" she asks, looking a little lost.

"I seem to remember," I whisper, moving in to drop a
kiss on her forehead, "somebody once mentioning
wanting to get married," another kiss, this time on
her ear, "buy a house" a kiss on her temple, "get a
dog", a kiss to her cheek, "and have a baby." I finish up with a quick, soft kiss to her lips.

"Mulder, did you just ask me to marry you?" she
murmurs.

"I asked you to marry me three years ago, when you
were in Maine and I was back here dying of
loneliness," I point out. 

"Cell phone proposals don't count."

"Will you marry me, Scully?"

"Yes," she murmurs, dropping a kiss on my forehead, "I will." The we kiss again, once more with William
between our bodies.

Week Two

Mulder has been living with me for the past week, ever since William and I got home from the hospital. If he'd suggested this arrangement last year, I would
have been leery to say the least. I would have thought living with Mulder might have been difficult. I was wrong. As I found out, in those awful months when I thought he was lost to me forever, it was living *without* Mulder that was hard. Living with him is wonderful. 

We're also officially engaged; Mulder bought me a
beautiful sapphire ring surrounded by tiny diamonds.
Father McCue dropped by with my mother yesterday and
the four of us hatched out a plan to get us married
and have William baptized all on the same evening,
about a month from now. Normally the Catholic church
insists on a manadatory engagement of at least four
months between the decision to marry and the actual
ceremony, but Father McCue said he thought that — due
to the fact that we've been partners for eight years,
in one sense or another, and already have a child
together — that he could get the bishop to waive that
requirement.

Strangely enough, neither Mom nor the priest inquired
about our current living arrangements. Maybe they're
just happy we *are* going to get married, even if it
will be with our six-week-old son in attendance. Maybe they figure there's no point in closing the barn door after the horse has already escaped. Maybe my mother, who gave birth four times herself, realizes that there is no possiblity of anything sexual going on right now anyway.

When I excused myself to go nurse the baby, my mother
came in with me to talk about the ceremony. Returning
to the living room, we found Mulder and Father McCue
deep in conversation. I think Mulder may be about to
embrace Catholic Christianity with the same fervor
that he once embraced conspiracy theories and the
search for extra-terrestrial intelligence. Well, he's
always wanted to find the truth.

Mostly I'm busy with the baby or trying to grab a few
hours of sleep. But Mulder has been handling most of
the cooking and housework and all of the errand- running, so I'm not too exhausted. When we're
both home and awake, we talk. About William, of
course, but about other things, too. We've got eight
years of unspoken feelings and misunderstandings to
clear up.

Now, as William begins to make the snuffling sound
that I've already learned to recognize as the prelude
to a full blown feed-me-I'm-hungry wail, I ease myself out from under Mulder's arm and go to the bathroom. The toilet seat's up. I know that this is the kind of thing a woman is *supposed* to have a fit over, but I simply put it down and do my business. I grew up with two brothers, for heaven's sake; it wasn't 'til my first year in an all-female college dorm that I realized most women expected to go into a bathroom and find the seat down.

William is making a bit more noise when I return.
"Shh!" I whisper. "Don't wake Daddy." I quickly change his diaper, murmuring to him all the while, then bring him back to bed and lay down with him between me and Mulder. I nurse and doze, then blink myself awake  enough to burp him switch him to the other breast.

My back is now to Mulder and he pulls me close
instinctively. . .right up against an enormous
hard-on. "Scully," he murmurs, sounding at least half
asleep.

"Mmm?" I ask, not wanting to ignore him if he expects
an answer, but not wanting to wake him if he's just
talking in his sleep.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. And you, William," I add to our
beloved baby boy.

"Huh?" Mulder sounds confused, but more awake. "Oh. I
was dreaming. Is he doing okay?"

"He's fine, Mulder. What were you dreaming about?"

"Um. . ."

I wiggle my bottom against him a bit. "I *am* a
trained investigator, Mulder. I presume this is a clue to the content of your dream?"

"Yeah," he whispers, dropping a kiss on my ear. 

"Do you remember the details?"

"We were in the car, on a stakeout. But we got bored,
you started taking off your clothes. . .we were in the backseat when I woke up. I'm sorry, Scully."

"For what?" I ask, perplexed.

"I don't want you to think that's all I ever think
about; that it's the only aspect of our relationship
I'm interested in."

"I know it's not, Mulder. Actually, I think it's sort
of sweet that you're having sexy dreams about me. A
lot of men suffer a loss of sexual desire for a while
after a woman's given birth. Let's face it, I have
leaky breasts, most days I get up at five a.m. but
don't get a chance to take a shower 'til after noon,
and I've spent the better part of the past two weeks
wearing a bathrobe with baby spit-up on the shoulder;
it's not exactly an image most men would find
alluring."

"Scully, I've loved you for years but these past
couple of weeks. . .watching the total love and
devotion you give to William. . .I wouldn't have
imagined it was possible for me to fall more deeply in love with you, but I have."

"That's sweet, Mulder," I reply and snuggle down
between my two "fellows" — one incredibly tiny, the
other incredibly big, both the loves of my life.

Week Three

Scully, William and I have actually been getting out
these past few days. Not for long periods of time, or
to crowded places, but the weather's been nice so
we've taken him for a few short walks and last night
we went over to Maggie's house for dinner. We even got daring and made a quick trip to the grocery store this morning.

She's nursing William and I'm putting the last of the
groceries away when the phone rings. "I'll get it," I
holler out. Probably another aunt or cousin of hers
wanting to drop by with a baby gift. I know Catholics
have large families, and I was even vaguely aware that Maggie grew up in Baltimore and has lots of siblings, nieces and nephews in this area, but I wasn't really prepared for the sheer number of Scully relatives who have been crawling out of the woodwork since William was born.

Instead the call is one that even I, with over a
decade's experience in expecting the unexpected, would never have guessed might be coming. After several minutes of conversation, I end it with "I'll get back to you later today," and hang up.

"Who was that?" Scully asks as I walk into the
bedroom.

"The Deputy Director in charge of Quantico," I reply.
"They had an unfortunate experience this morning; an
instructor dropped dead of a heart attack, literally
while in the middle of giving a lecture at the
Academy. They're two weeks away from graduation and in desperate need of someone who can teach the class two days a week for that time period."

"Mulder, I'm not ready to go back to work," Scully
states emphatically. "Skinner promised me a full two
months after the birth, in addition to the time I took off during the last trimester of my pregnancy."

"They don't want you, Scully," I say with a small
smile. "They want me. It's a criminal psychology class for students who've shown an interest or aptitude in profiling. I pointed out that I'm no longer an active agent, but he didn't seem to think that would be a problem; it will just mean I get paid as a visiting lecturer — which is more money, because it doesn't come with benefits — and he doesn't have to deal with the red tape and hassle of arranging a temporary transfer of an agent from another division to Quantico."

"Do you want to do it?" 

I'm silent for a moment, then answer honestly, "I'm
torn, Scully. You know that one of the things I've
always tried to do, throughout my career, is open up
people to new ways of thinking, new ways of looking at the evidence. Working as an instructor might be a way to do that; a way to make sure that the next
generation of F.B.I. agents doesn't consist solely of
guys like Kersh and Colton. On the other hand, I'm
really enjoying spending all this time with you and
William; I don't want to fall back into my old, bad
habits of putting my work ahead of more important
things in life."

"How many hours a week would it be?"

"I'd only be out at Quantico from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m .on
Tuesdays and Thursdays. But when you factor in class
prep time, grading papers and stuff like that, I'd
probably be working about 20 hours a week. It's up to
you, Scully. I spent eight years of our lives dragging you around the country to hunt for aliens, mutants and monsters, ignoring your repeated requests that we live a normal life. I think it's time — long past time, really — for you to have a chance to call the shots."

"I think you should do it, Mulder."

That evening, after we've eaten and I've cleaned up
the kitchen and she's fed William, Scully beckons me
to sit next to her on the couch. "Why don't you go
make us some popcorn, get a beer for yourself and a
glass of orange juice for me," she suggests, "we're
going to watch a movie."

"Okay," I agree, mildly surprised. Watching videos
together is certainly a normal "couple" activity — and one of the few that's easy for parents of a newborn baby to accomplish — but Scully has mostly only wanted to sleep or talk during the brief hours we haven't been busy with William. 

When I return with our snack and drinks, Scully
cuddles up to me and flicks the remote. I watch as the opening credits to 'Steel Magnolias' comes on the
screen.

"Remember," she murmurs, "you told me that next time
we had a movie night, I got to choose the feature
presentation. You didn't think I was going to let you
weasel out of it just due to little things like alien
abduction, birth, death and resurrection, did you?"

I chuckle and snuggle her closer. We're not more than
ten minutes into the movie before we've assumed our
favorite TV watching position; me flat on my back with Scully lying atop me, both our faces turned toward the screen. Well, mostly they're turned to the screen. Scully keeps crawling up and kissing me every few minutes. Within less than an hour, she's asleep, with my hand molded to the curve of her ass. So I mute the volume and lay there, in the darkened living room, listening to her breathing and that of our son in the other room, and think about how happy I am.

Week Four

Mulder's at Quantico and William is asleep. The
phone's not ringing, the answering machine light's not blinking and no one is knocking on the door. For the first time in a month, I have a moment to call my own. I decide to skip my usual mid-afternoon shower in favor of a leisurely bubble bath.

I've been in for only a few minutes when I hear the
door to our apartment open and Mulder call out softly, "Hey, honey! I'm home."

"In here, Mr. Petrie," I call out, giving the name the pronunciation we used when were undercover in Arcadia.

Mulder chuckles and follows the sound of my voice to
the bathroom. "Wow," he says, "do you want me to wash
your back?"

"I'd like that," I agree. As he rolls up the sleeves
of his dress shirt, I add, "I think it would be easier if you just joined me in the tub."

Mulder's eyes grow dark as he asks, "Really?"

"Well, I don't want to come across as a tease, Mulder. We still can't. . .do anything. But I'd like to have you in here with me." The words are barely out of my mouth before Mulder is tearing off his clothes and sliding in behind me.

"That's nice," I murmur as his big, soapy hands glide
across my back. "But I wish this tub was bigger.
Remember that great big bathtub in the hotel in
California?"

"Mmm, yeah," he replies. "I know we won't be able to
take a honeymoon right after we get married, since
you'll still be nursing William. But after he's
weaned, I'd like to see if maybe your mother would be
willing to watch him for a few days, so we could take
a little trip together; maybe for our first
anniversary. We'll be sure to book the honeymoon suite and those usually have oversized tubs."

"We're not going to take a honeymoon 'til our first
anniversary?" I inquire, amused.

"Come on, Scully," he points out. "We never do things
in logical sequence. We took a shower together months
before we first kissed and we're getting married
several weeks after our son's birth."

"That's true enough," I have to admit.

"I've missed this," Mulder says with a sigh, wrapping
his arms around me as I settle down in his lap, my
bottom on his thighs and my back against his chest.
"Not so much sex, per se, but just being naked with
you. It feels so good to hold you without any barriers — physical or emotional — between us."

"Mmm," I agree, but just at that moment William begins to fuss. 

"Let me help you out of the tub," Mulder says,
standing up and wrapping a towel around his waist.
"Then I'll go change him while you get dried off."

I nod, letting my eyes linger on his long legs and
broad chest with its sprinkling of hair, then allow
him to assist me out of the tub while he calls out,
"Just a minute, son. Daddy's coming."

Week Five

Things have settled into something like a routine
around here. William slept about six hours straight —
from approximately 11 p.m. to five the next morning —
for the past two nights, so Scully and I are no longer stumbling around like zombies. He also takes
mid-morning, mid-afternoon and evening naps and is in
his best, most playful moods early in the morning and
late in the afternoon. I go out to the Academy on
Tuesdays and Thursdays and do paperwork connected with the class on Monday and Wednesday afternoons while William and Scully nap. Mornings when I'm not at work, we take William out for walks or run errands. Fridays are for laundry and housecleaning. Evenings and weekends, we relax together.

My daily early morning jog — once a sacred routine
with me — has dwindled to four or five times a week,
at whatever time of day it can be fit in. Today's
Saturday and and the guys have invited Scully, William and me over to their place for lunch. It's around 10 a.m. and I've finally slipped out of the house for brief run through the park. I notice another father jogging with a baby in one of those racing strollers. Wonder if Scully would be okay with me taking William along with me some mornings, once he gets a bit older?

When I return home, I find William asleep in his crib
and Scully doing. . .something. . .on the floor. "What in the world are you doing?" I ask, faintly alarmed.

She smiles up at me. "Oh, hi, Mulder. I didn't hear
you come in. These are exercises — sort of a modified
type of yoga — designed especially for women who have
just given birth. My doctor said I could begin doing
them once William was a month old. I started Thursday, when you were at work, and did them yesterday while you went to the bank and the dry cleaners."

I nod and strip off my sweaty T-shirt. Then I take off my shoes and socks and toss both shirt and socks into the hamper. I really should go take a shower, but I'm mesmerized by the site of Scully doing stretches and leg lifts. She's only wearing a T-shirt and panties; with every movement, the shirt rides up and I get a tantalizing peek of her ass.

I don't know how long I've been standing there,
staring at her, when she finally focuses in on me and
smiles. "Wow, Mulder," she says softly. "I've heard
that a lot of men, once they're nearing forty, need
more than just visual stimulation to get an erection.
Looks like you're not one of them." I notice then that Scully is looking at me with almost a feral gleam in her eyes. I never would have thought that someone as into neatness and order as Scully is would be turned on by a sweaty, shirtless man, but I learned last summer that she often is. . . at least when the man is me.

It takes me a moment to realize what she's talking
about, but that's probably due to the fact that most
of my blood is now circulating a lot lower in my
anatomy than my brain. I'm so hard it's possible my
shorts are going to burst from the pressure. Rather
than getting up off the floor, Scully rises to her
knees and hooks her fingers in the side of my shorts
and my boxer-briefs, drawing them down. Then she
lowers her mouth to my throbbing cock.

Oh, God! I feel like I just wandered into one of those videos that aren't mine and I don't watch any more. I come in from jogging, expecting no more in the way of greeting than a sweet smile and maybe a quick kiss, and find myself getting a blow job from the most gorgeous woman in the world.

If the activity alone wasn't enough of a turn-on,
there's also the fact that she's kneeling in front of
me. Scully's done this to me a couple of times before, in the brief months between when we finally consumated our relationship and when the aliens abducted me, but then it was always when were in bed together and she was just sort of lying next to me at an angle. As a psychologist, I'm sure there must be something faintly kinky about the idea that her being on her knees makes it even more intensely pleasurable than otherwise, but I'm too busy to stop and analyze the situation.

Scully's slid her hands up to my ass to brace herself
and continues to suck on me, her cheeks beginning to
hollow with the effort. I'm getting close and retain
just enough brain function to mumble, "Stop, Scully!"

Her eyes go wide and she looks up at me, my cock still in her mouth, like a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She slowly releases me and asks, "Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, baby," I pant out. "You're doing it exactly
right. That's the problem. Last summer, when we first
became lovers, you said you enjoyed oral sex as a form of foreplay, but not as a substitute for intercourse. I'd never want to push you into doing something you don't want to do, and I know we can't have intercourse 'til next week. So you need to stop and either I'll go take a cold shower or you can finish up with your hand, if you're comfortable with that idea."

She smiles at me sweet and sexy and loving, all at the same time. "Mulder, it means a lot to me that you'd be willing to stop at this. . .advanced point rather than push me further than I want to go. But I want to do this for you." She then licks her lips and lowers her mouth to my cock again. I come in about ten seconds flat, moaning her name out softly.

Although I thought I'd been quiet, William starts to
fuss at this point. "I'll change his diaper, if you
want to go rinse out your mouth," I say, touching her
brilliant hair gently.

A few minutes later, when Scully is nursing William, I ask quietly, "Do you need me to. . .do anything for
you?"

"What do you mean, Mulder?" she inquires, looking
faintly puzzled.

I feel the tiniest bit embarrassed bringing this up,
but I'd feel worse if I behaved selfishly. "Well, I
realize we can't have intercourse. But if you'd like
me to do for you what you just did for me. . .or if
you'd like me to use my hand. . .I'd be happy to
Scully."

She smiles softly at me. "I appreciate the offer,
Mulder, but I'm not quite ready to be touched there
yet. Just go take your shower, so you can take care of William while I take mine, and we can get over to the guys' place on time."

I nod and head off to the bathroom, whistling.

Week Six

It's my wedding day. From the time I was a little
girl, I've dreamed of this day, although there was a
period of years when I never believed it would happen
for me. 

Of course, it's a bit different from the way I
envisioned it. I never thought I'd be carrying my
infant son, instead of a bouquet of flowers, in my
arms as I walked down the aisle. And many of the
people I would love to have here with me on this day,
like my father and sister, aren't physically present.
. .but I can sense they're here in spirit; Fox's
family, too.

Other people I love *are* here, though. My mother. My
brothers. My sister-in-law and niece and nephew. The
Lone Gunmen. Skinner, who is the closest thing either
Mulder or I have to a father anymore. And William, of
course.

The most important element, however, is the man
waiting for me at the altar. For the past eight years, I've known that if I ever married, it would be to my sexy, irritating, smart-alecky, tenderhearted partner; Fox William Mulder, who is also the father of my son.

The ceremony is brief but beautiful. Mom and Skinner
serve as our Matron of Honor and Best Man. Immediately after the wedding, we have William's baptism, with Bill and Tara serving as his godparents.

Afterwards, we go over to Mom's house. Mulder had
suggested we have the wedding/baptismal dinner in a
restaurant, to spare her the trouble, but she
insisted. Maybe it's for the best; in addition to
William, the party also includes three-year-old
Matthew and his 14-month-old sister Kara. So we eat
the delicious entree she slow-cooked, along with the
array of breads and salads she made ahead of time. The highlight, however, comes with dessert. She didn't prepare a traditional wedding cake, but made a sheet cake with the words "Congratulations Dana, Fox and William" on it.

Later, after the Gunmen and Skinner have left and
Tara's trying to get her two ready for bed, and Mulder is watching a sporting event in the living room with my brothers, I take William into my mother's bedroom to nurse him. She comes in to talk to me privately for a few minutes. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me, Dana?" she inquires.

I laugh softly. "Mom, I think it's a little too late
for a birds-and-the-bees discussion! I'm a mother and
a doctor."

Mom smiles and says, "You're also a mother who went to the doctor today. Unless things have changed radically in the past 30 years or so, that means tonight will be the first time you'll be able to make love with Fox since giving birth. Sometimes that can be a bit of an. . .adjustment."

"We'll be fine, Mom," I assure her.

Once we arrive home, Mulder and I settle William down
in his crib at the far corner of our bedroom, then sit down on the bed and turn to face each other. "Will I sound like a complete idiot if I say I'm kind of nervous?" he asks.

I shake my head and smile. "No. Same here. I feel like I ought to duck into the bathroom and emerge wearing a frilly black nightie or something. But I really think I'd rather have you undress me."

Mulder complies, going exquisitely slowly, stopping to touch and kiss each newly exposed section of skin
almost reverently. When I'm completely naked, I set to work on him, treating his beautiful body to the same care he gave mine. Mulder rolls me onto my back and kneels above me, kissing me deeply. Then he moves his mouth to my neck and nips softly.

I moan quietly as he moves further down. "You have
beautiful breasts, Scully. But I know that William
gives them quite a workout, so I won't focus too much
attention on them tonight. Besides," he glances up and flashes me a wicked a grin, "I've got a feeling my mouth can be put to better use in other places."

Mulder continues to kiss down my stomach; when he
reaches the top edge of my auburn curls, he lifts one
of my legs and begins to kiss up the inside of thigh.
Finally, after giving equal attention to both legs, he dips his tongue slowly into me. He licks and laps
slowly at me for a long time, humming his approval
while I moan mine. 

"Mulder," I whisper, "please. I'm ready."

He moves up to kiss me on the mouth again, then gazes
deeply into my eyes and whispers, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Mulder eases in slowly, giving me as much time as I
need to adjust. Then he begins moving, sliding almost
all the way out, then gliding back in. In the past,
it's usually been difficult for me to climax in the
missionary position, but something is different
tonight. Maybe it's a biological change, brought on by having given birth. Maybe it's a psychological change, brought on by the knowledge that he's my husband now. Whatever it is, when he looks into my eyes and smiles, I climax around him. My orgasm isn't so much intense as endless, undulating through my body in wave after wave of pleasure.

When I'm done, Mulder begins moving a bit quicker, his breath coming in uneven pants. I gaze with joy at his passion-drenched features and watch as he whispers my name and floods my body. A few minutes later, listening to Mulder breathe next to me and William's gentle snuffling from across the room, I feel a sense of completion.