TITLE: "Consummating the New Millennium" (1/2)
BY: Ten
E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au

CATEGORY: V; after-effects of MT; Angst; MSR; H
RATING: R for consensual sexual situations
(The after-effects of the MT aren't THAT severe, and, as
for the content, I plead innocence on the grounds of the
heatwave we experienced over here and on an overactive
innuendo gland!)
SUMMARY: If Fox William Mulder just started off your new
millennium by driving you all the way to Connecticut and
then springing a surprise wedding on you - your own, to
him - before saying 'let's go home', would you REALLY be
able to wait that long before bedding him? Thought not.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: "Millennium", the "Biogenesis"
trilogy, "One Breath", "Fight the Future" and "Arcadia".
This is a sequel to Vickie Moseley's wonderful "Starting
the New Millennium", which gave a spin on what happened
after the episode that I'd really like to have seen!
After reading it, the above question popped into my head,
and Vickie told me to go for it. I thank her for her
generosity amongst so much else.

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be
archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer
stay intact.
FEEDBACK: Love it. Brings joy to my world! It's nice to
be back after other commitments enforced a break.

My website for all my X-Files fanfiction, thanks to the
wonderful Skyfox, is now at http://tenxffic.iwarp.com

Vickie's story is available at:
http://vickiemoseley.freeservers.com

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, the episodes referred to, Mulder
and Scully and all other characters from the show belong
to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox
Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be
gained. Characters not recognised from the show are
Vickie's or mine.


The X-Files: "Consummating the New Millennium" (1/2)
By Ten, February 10th/12th, 2000


xXx

This is NOT how I thought I would be spending New Year's
Day.

New Year's Eve started off the same, our usual round of
party games, X-Files-style: A case in which Mulder
insisted that dead men were being brought back to life to
end the world at midnight, then one of said zombies
attacking me, Mulder vanishing while off on his own, then
me rescuing Mulder, who was - of course - injured. So at
midnight we were once again spending time at the nearest
hospital.

Midnight was also spent kissing Fox Mulder.

He took the initiative, for which I'm glad. As I stood
there watching the couples celebrating and kissing in
Times Square on the waiting room TV, I had wanted to kiss
him, but couldn't work up the nerve. He leaned down and
crossed that bridge.

Mulder kept taking the initiative. He put his good arm
around me when we walked out to the car, and then he
insisted on driving, saying that he had somewhere he
wanted to take me.

When I woke up at dawn, we were in Connecticut, pulling
into the driveway of his Uncle Jacob. Once we were
inside, Mulder chose to tell me that his uncle was a
Justice of the Peace.

One kiss and I'm bundled to the altar.

At least he'll be able to remember our anniversary.

I smile as I recall the beautiful things Mulder said to
me as he proposed. Not a traditional proposal, but that's
not who my partner is. It was perfect. He told me he
didn't want to go home without me anymore, that he wanted
to start this milestone off with something precious.

I am so glad that this has happened. I had the desire and
the dream, but not the courage to make such a quixotic
gesture. Good thing my partner - my HUSBAND - has never
been afraid to charge at windmills.

As Aunt Deb and Uncle Jacob prepare our wedding
breakfast, Mulder and I sit on the sofa in the parlour,
watching the snowfall, arms around each other, heads
close. Mulder is tired. He didn't get any sleep at all
last night, and the adrenalin rush and determination that
got him here are ebbing. I think he's pleased with
himself and relieved, but also just realising the
enormity of his actions.

"Bravest thing I've ever done," he mumbles into my hair.

I stroke his face. This from the man who just faced off
with zombies before midnight. This from the man who has
stood in front of madmen with guns to prevent them from
shooting innocent people. The man who raced to Antarctica
to rescue me when he was injured himself.

There is a knock on the door. I call, "Come in," and Aunt
Deb appears. I guess she wanted to make sure she wasn't
interrupting anything. She smiles at us. We must look a
sight. "Breakfast's ready."

Mulder rouses enough to put away his fair portion of
food. I like his relatives. They have easily accepted me
into their fold, despite us turning up on their doorstep
at dawn with our sudden request. Now that it's a
civilized hour of the morning, we try to phone Mrs Mulder
- Teena, um... my mother-in-law - but get her answering
machine.

"Should we try calling in on our way home?" I ask.

Mulder bites his lip in indecision. I want to kiss it.
"No. We'll phone again later on today. See if we can get
some honeymoon time off Skinner, then come up and see her
then." He leans down and whispers to me, "I just want to
get you home."

"You're both welcome to stay here," Uncle Jacob says. "We
have plenty of room. Then you can go see Teena whenever
you like. You won't be imposing. And we have three
levels, so noises won't car-" Aunt Deborah elbows him
with ease of long practice. She coughs, but is smiling.
Jacob has a grin on his face that I know so well.

"You are both very welcome," Deborah says, and I know she
means it, but I'd feel odd doing this to them - asking
them to provide a surprise wedding is one thing, a
honeymoon suite is another - and I want to go home too.
Plus we only just finished the case, and Skinner will
probably want the report soon. I phoned him from the
hospital to give him a verbal one, but he'll want more.

So we find ourselves given a picnic lunch and warm
goodbyes. When I open the trunk of the car so that Uncle
Jacob can put the food in, he stares at the space, which
is empty apart from my laptop, then at me. He had thought
we were a little more prepared, perhaps even in the area
on a case, and that Mulder had just forgotten to pack his
coat (Uncle Jacob gave him one of his own as a 'wedding
present'). Aunt Deb takes one look at the trunk and pulls
me aside. "Honey, do you need anything?"

I reassure her. After a round of hugs, I get in the
driver's seat. Mulder has been sitting in the passenger
seat for five minutes already, out of the cold, but he's
fallen asleep. I make sure the seatbelt won't interfere
with his injured right arm.

I start the car. Aunt Deb calls out that she'll send us
the photos as soon as she gets them developed. She took
them at an angle so that you can't pick up the scratch
marks on my neck, and so that I was hiding Mulder's
sling. Most of the time. Oh well, who wants a normal
wedding?

I look down at my rumpled clothes. Wonder what Mom will
think about me wearing black to get married in? I think I
have reason to wear more colours now. Or less clothes.

I'll call Mom later on today. Should be a very
interesting conversation.

I drive us away from the lovely three storey house that
is set in secluded woods. I always thought that Mulder
came from old money. Now I've married into it.

Kissing Mulder was enough of a miracle. Trust him to top
it.

xXx

I haven't been driving for very long. There's snow, not
heavy, but enough to make me even more careful than
usual. A part of my mind is still thinking over what has
just happened though. I wish I could turn to look at
Mulder, but I don't risk it.

At least he is here beside me. Two months ago he wasn't.
He was stolen from me and I couldn't find him.  It was
even worse that he was gravely ill in hospital to begin
with. His mind taken, then his body.

When he was put in that padded cell, I was so determined
to find his cure and save him, just as he had done for me
with the cancer and after the bee.

Upon my return from Africa, the last time that I had seen
him before he was taken, he had deteriorated. I told
Mulder to hold on. To please hold on for me. I knew that
he could hear me, as I had heard him years ago, his voice
reaching me in my coma, telling me that I wasn't ready to
go yet, that I had the strength of my beliefs. It was his
voice that guided me to shore.

Melissa told me a few months later how he had not given
up on me. I knew she was uncomfortable about backing my
living will instructions to have the life support turned
off, and I'm always relieved that I reassured her then
that she was just following the wishes I had expressed.
That she and Mom had nothing to feel guilty about.

Even Ahab had thought I was ready to die. Somehow I could
hear his voice saying that we would be together soon.

But I had a lot to live for and I did. And after that, I
changed my living will.

Compared to my three months, Mulder was gone for what?
Three or four days by conventional timekeeping? I don't
really want to remember. To me it was an eternity. My
hands tighten on the steering wheel. I was not the one to
find Mulder's cure. I only found him because Diana gave
me the means.

Diana.

Ambivalent feelings clash within me. I shy away from the
subject, thinking instead at how Mulder had woken up when
I cried over him in the Department Of Defence building.
Was it my voice that had brought him back? My tears?

I want to believe that. And in my mind, I can. My
constant. My touchstone. 'And you are mine.'

I risk a glance at him. And now, he is my husband. I
don't have to live another day without him.

I start paying even closer attention to the road signs.
I'm looking for something in particular, and soon see it.
Mulder wakes as I pull into a parking space at a motel.

He stares around blearily, confused that we aren't
stopping at a gas station. "Scully, what's going on?"

"Mulder, you know how I pride myself on being a logical
woman?"

He rubs at his eyes and gives me a sidelong look.
"Yeah..."

"I was just thinking. We've just gotten married. At last.
Now we're on the road again, facing hours and hours
before we're home. But that's so far away. I love you and
I want you. I want to consummate our marriage. I don't
want to wait. So I started looking for a motel."

He gapes at me.

"It makes sense, Mulder. Just be grateful that I
restrained myself from pulling off onto a side road into
some trees for a quickie!"

"I should have hauled you to Uncle Jacob years ago." He
is grinning now.

"We've got seven years to catch up on."

Holding hands, we go sign in. I write 'Mrs Mulder' for
the first time. It feels very right.

The girl at the desk was reading a romance novel when we
entered, and beams when she finds out we're on our
honeymoon. Her expression changes a little as she takes
in our rumpled appearance, then I guess she decides that
we went parking or something. I hope she doesn't notice
that we're not wearing any rings, but then again, who
cares?

"How long have you known each other?"

"Seven years," I reply.

"And how long were you engaged?"

"Well, we weren't, really..." I find myself saying,
despite her being a stranger.

Mulder gives me a look and argues, "We were engaged for
an hour or so while Uncle Jacob got things ready and
while Aunt Deborah got the sleep out of her eyes."

The girl's smile teeters on her chin, about to fall off.

I smile back. "Once he made up his mind, it just
happened."

As we're walking to our room, Mulder asks me which
apartment we will call home.

"Well, you have a bed now. Let's say that for tonight,
whichever is closest."

When we get into our room, Mulder puts down the picnic
lunch and I put my laptop on the desk - I don't want
anyone stealing it from the trunk - and hang out the 'do
not disturb' sign.

We kiss and smile at each other like we're two teenagers
finally about to do 'it'.

"Mulder, is it okay if I have a shower first? Make myself
more presentable?"

He smiles. "I need one too. Scratching around in that
dirt-floored basement for hours... You go first.
Actually, we could go together."

"I'd like that, but your shoulder could make things a
little awkward. In this situation it's best if you work
flat on your back." He laughs. "You can't have a shower
with stitches in anyway. Either a bath or a sponge bath,
as long as you're careful."

"Yes, dear."

"You take a pain pill too," I remind him. He nods.

Mulder looks at his sling and my neck wounds. "We'll
probably turn into zombies." I glare at him and he gives
me a 'just kidding' look. Though with our luck...

I give him another kiss. It's a long one. Then I head for
the bathroom. I turn the cold tap on full.

xXx

I step out of the shower after the quickest but most
thorough shower of my life and consider my options. Apart
from what I was wearing, I have no clothes. I didn't have
my overnight bag in the car, not that it contained
anything exciting. No emergency survival pack from
Victoria's Secret. 'In case of unexpected honeymoon or
sex: break glass.' Perhaps I should have taken Aunt Deb
up on her offer, but I doubt she would have had any
underwear in my size. I could have at least gotten
directions off her to the nearest store.

Lying neatly folded, my current underwear is a
bit...drab. Just like my clothes. Not to mention day-old.
It's not fair. How was I to know that this was going to
happen?

Screw you, Fox William Mulder!

And dammit, I WANT to.

Oh well, clothes are optional in this activity. Just
something to take off. Perhaps I should just walk out
into the room, as naked as the day I was born.

Well, okay, I'm probably still as short as the day I was
born, but there are a few developments that have occurred
since then, some landscaping...

I realise that I'm shy. How dumb can you get? This is my
husband out there - the man who pulled me naked out of
green goo in an alien spaceship (so he says, and I can
vaguely remember bits), and who saw me after our
decontamination showers when Cassandra returned - and I'm
still shy. I want this, but it is so sudden. Just
sashaying out there naked is just a little too much. If I
had some layers for him to remove, if it were more
gradual...

And besides, I know my man. Seeing me burst out of the
bathroom totally naked would cause Mulder to faint in
shock and hit his head, or trip over his hormones and
land on his injured arm.

Dana Katherine Scully-Mulder, you have a problem.

'Yes,' my libido agrees, 'and the solution is lying on
that bed. All six feet of him - and I'm not talking about
his height!'

I gently thud my head against the tiles.

Rally! Make do with what you've got!

I dry off my hair and body, and then I use the only thing
I can for my attire - more towels. "If I can make my t-
shirt into bandages for Mulder's arm in the woods and do
an autopsy with just a penknife," I mutter determinedly,
"I CAN make these into a bleeping sarong!"

And, by some minor miracle, there are two toothbrushes in
the bathroom cabinet, and they're still in unbroken
wrappings. Either some guest left them there or this
motel is more upmarket than it looks. I don't care. I
brush my teeth and wish I had some make up, but that
doesn't really matter. I comb my hair. That will do. I
don't plan on keeping my husband, or myself, waiting any
longer.

Excitement races through me. I find myself reaching up to
the neckline of my 'sarong' and adjusting it so that a
heck of a lot of cleavage is showing. It doesn't feel
embarrassing. It feels right. I'm tempted to tell him to
skip his his wash. My hormones should block my sense of
smell... But hopefully the sight I present will give him
the incentive to be quick in the bathroom!

And in doing so slip on a wet tile and... I shove that
thought out of my mind. I might give him a sponge bath
myself.

Here I come, ready or not.

I make my grand entrance.

My audience is asleep on the bed. I sigh and smile. I'll
have the pleasure of waking him up and seeing his eyes
bulge at my neckline. And if he faints, at least he can't
hit his head on anything harder than the pillow.

Then again, there's the headboard. I lean over him and
position a pillow just so to avoid that.

The heater is on. He has managed to get his coat and t-
shirt off and the sling back in place. That's something.
He's just in his cotton boxers.

He looks so cute. Mrs Dana Mulder (in league with newly-
awakened LibidoScully) decides to hell with that, he
looks good enough to devour and it's time for some
action!

"Mulder," I say sultrily. "Fox..."

No response.

"Mulder, your wife awaits," I whisper in his ear.

Nothing.

Is he faking it? Is he dead?

No.

I give him a gentle shake.

Nope.

"Mulder, I'm naked here."

Nada.

"Mulder, Skinner wants us, pronto!" I yell.

Zip.

"Ooo, look, Bigfoot!"

Zilch.

"Argh!" I rage. He's out for the count. The pain pill,
the lack of sleep...

"Just brilliant." It was dumb of me to tell him to take a
painkiller. Dumb dumb dumb. Trouble is, I'm too used to
thinking as his partner, not his lover. What am I going
to do now?

Suddenly LibidoScully whispers in my ear: 'Go for it.
Technically it's not necrophilia - he's still breathing!'

I give her a mental cold shower.

Let's look at this logically. I restrained myself for
seven years. I can survive for a few more hours.

But...

He's ditched me again. Dammit, he promised he wouldn't
anymore! That was his new year's resolution. I've shaken
off my jet lag, he could at least -

Dana, a few months ago he was catatonic and couldn't
move. He was dying, and then he was abducted. So having
him here, now, asleep, (and one-armed) isn't so bad.

And at least he's not recovering from brain surgery.

Thinking about him lying on that slab at the DOD gives me
an idea. Worth a try.

I kneel by the bed and stroke his cheek.

My voice is more horny than husky. "Mulder, you have to
wake up. Please. No one can do it but you, Mulder."
Though I'll proposition the guy next door if you don't
hurry. "For me. Mulder, you have to get UP!"

Okay, I may be being cruel here, wanting to shake awake a
man who is not only injured, but severely sleep-deprived.
But hey, he's also just married, and it was all his idea,
so he should at least 'stand' and deliver! Ten minutes of
his time, that's all I'm asking for. Five even.

He's responsible for waking all my hormones up. He has to
kiss every single one of them better, every endorphin.
I'm sure that was in fine print in the marriage
certificate.

I feel close to tears of frustration. There's a pitcher
on the nightstand, and I dip my fingers into it and shake
a few drops of water off onto Mulder's face. I remember
his voice from so long ago: "I think you drooled on me."

He stirs slightly in his sleep, then resettles. I do it
again. Same. I consider taking the whole pitcher and
dousing him with it. Well, he does need a shower.
Whatever.

No. I'm going too far as it is. This is a lost cause. I
might as well make the most of this opportunity to go and
shop for some sexy lingerie. So, he'll get some sleep and
I'll get prepared. Thankfully I do have my personal
credit card.

I cover Mulder with some blankets and position several
explanatory notes so that he will find at least one. I
have remained in the towels until the last possible
moment, in case those hazel eyes open. But apart from
shifting a little in his sleep, he's still in sleepy
hollow.

"You have a few hours of grace, buddy."

I get dressed and exit the room. The 'do not disturb'
sign mocks me. A maid is coming along with her trolley.
She looks at me enquiringly. "My husband is still
asleep," I say. She nods and keeps on going.

Funny how 'husband' slips off my tongue now, just as
easily as partner. He still is my partner though. And in
a few hours 'lover' had better be added to that list, or
I'm going to ditch HIM.

xXx


I shop. I have fun. I buy an assortment of things. Garters,
suspender belt, teddies, matching bras and panties. Too bad that I
can't cover the scratches with a high neckline, but they only had
those in flannelette nighties, which isn't quite the look I was
after. So I also get some cover stick make up.

A new suit is also on the agenda, but I buy some casual clothes
and wear them out of the shop. A nice warm-toned blue sweater and
jeans. I'm tired of black. And I buy my husband some new clothes
and underwear too. Black silk boxers. Okay, ever since he rolled
out of that canopy bed when we were on the Cecil Lively case, I've
had a dream. Okay, a fantasy. Time to help it into reality.

I return to the motel. Mulder is still asleep on the bed, but he
has been up in the interim - evidenced by the following:

a) the toilet seat is up
b) there is a ring around the bathtub and more wet towels strewn
over the floor than I had left (yes, I left towels on the floor.
I'm ashamed at my sloveness, but hey, I thought I was a few
minutes off getting laid! I fully intended to pick them up later.
And my 'sarong', which I threw in there in resigned petulance.)
c) the toothpaste is squeezed in the middle
d) some of the picnic lunch has been raided
e) Most of my notes have messages like 'I'll be waiting' now
scrawled on them in his handwriting.

Waiting indeed. Damn. I must have just missed him. His boxers are
on the bathroom floor, and a peek under the bedsheets confirms
that he is as naked as the day he was born. He has also undergone
some rather impressive landscaping in the intervening years. And I
get to explore it.

I try waking him again so that I can begin, but he's in oblivion.
We're cursed. We must be. Trust his insomnia to take a vacation.

"Mulder, you're making me rethink this entire project..."

To kill some time, I phone Mom. She went to a neighbour's party
last night and had a good time. Bill just appeared on her doorstep
an hour ago, here by himself on naval business. Great. "How did
you spend New Year's, dear?"

Um, saving the world, then planning on blowing it out of the
stratosphere. By the way, you have a son-in-law.

This is going to be interesting. Should I tell her?

"We were on a case, but it wrapped well before midnight. So we
were able to watch the countdown on TV. Then we...well, um, one
thing sort of led to another." My words aren't coming out right. I
sound as nervous as I feel.

There's a pause on the end of the line. Is she surprised, shocked,
scandalised or overjoyed?

"You kissed?" Mom's voice has this 'at LAST!' tone to it, then off
my silence she thinks for a second and fumbles. "Oh... Honey, if
anything else happened, that's your business. You're over twenty-
one and he loves you. I'm here if you need to talk, or if you woke
up this morning and things aren't quite the same..." Worry is
taking over her voice. Worry that we've done the deed and one of
us has woken up this morning and decided it was a big mistake.

No Mom, sex is the one thing we haven't quite gotten around to
yet. But I'm working on it. I could really have had a white
wedding, but I went for black instead.

I wonder if Bill is listening in.

"Mom, we got married. In Connecticut." And it was worth every
mile. "We're there now," I babble.

There is a long silence on the end of the phone, then a quiet:
"Married?"

"Yes, Mom." I ramble on about how we're going to get Father
McCue's blessing and she can hold a reception and...

"Dana!" Mom cuts through my words.

"Yes?"

"That is the perfect start to the new year for me. I'm stunned,
but I'm thrilled. Congratulations, honey!"

I sigh in relief. "Thanks, Mom."

"Put Fox on. I'd better congratulate him! Or is he hiding out
until he knows I'm not going after him with the shotgun?"

"Um, no, Mom. He's asleep."

Another pause. I just know that she is shaking with silent
laughter. Oh brother.

Speaking of oh brother... "Where's Bill?"

"He went to the store for me. I can't wait to tell him this! Or do
you want to break it to him? I really want to see his face." She
sounds gleeful. I never thought Mom was one to play mindgames with
her children.

"You can tell him when he comes back. Mulder and I will get back
on the road later on," and head for Australia, "and will come see
you either tonight or first thing in the morning."

We talk about organising the reception and Mom says she'll phone
Father McCue and organise the blessing.

"Honey, did you want a large wedding? Because if you decide you
want anything, we can do it at the reception."

"It would have been nice, but honestly, Mom, I just wanted
Mulder." I wince at how that could sound, but Mom takes it on
board. After a bit more talking, I hang up.

Mulder is still in dreamland.

I nibble on our picnic lunch, then I decide to be optimistic. I
change into one of the sexy bra and panty sets. The bra is really
only a few strips of black material, crossing each breast to form
an X shape.

My cellular rings. I jump, then answer it. Sleeping Beauty sleeps
on.

"Scully." I almost say 'Mulder' instead.

"Agent Scully, where are you?"

Skinner. Oh hell.

"I know you briefed me on what happened in the basement, and I was
told that you and Mulder left the hospital at just after midnight.
I'm aware that you were both injured and in need of sleep, but I
just wanted to check in and see when you will be able to present
your report."

The man expects a report on New Year's Day? Doesn't he have a Bowl
Game to watch? Hmm, perhaps I should turn the TV on and see if the
sounds of the Rose Parade or the Rose Bowl are enough to wake my
errant husband. Which one would be on at the moment? I'm not sure
what the time is.

"Um..." Here I am, in sexy lingerie, officially Mrs Mulder, and
talking to my boss on the phone. I'm inordinately glad that he
didn't show up in person. Married life so far has not been dull.
"Sir, we both need some time off after what we've been through.
I've talked it over with Mulder."

"Well, you both fired your weapons, though at already 'dead'
people, so you're both on the mandatory two weeks of leave anyway -"

That's right. Looks like we've got our honeymoon time.

"- but I would appreciate your report as soon as possible, and for
you both to come in so I can arrange the meetings with the
counsellors."

"Sir, would I be able to email you the report in, say, three
hours?" That should be long enough, I think. "And we'll call in
tomorrow to arrange for the rest."

Fortunately, he agrees.

I hit the 'off' button and look at my husband. He's outstripping
Rip Van Winkle. I check his pulse and breathing. No, he isn't
catatonic again.

Bowing to the inevitable, I set my laptop up, turn it on, and sit
at the desk in my black matching underwear, and set to work.
Cosmic karma sucks.

xXx

The report is done. It didn't take as long as I thought. I'm just
proofing it now.

A voice comes from behind me. "I think I had a dream about this
once, only you were in the office at the time."

Husband is awake. He is lying there, staring at me. I can tell
that he likes what he sees. I blush.

I look at the computer screen. I type in: "But who cares about
zombies and Frank Black when I've got a marriage to consummate!"

I stand.

Mulder gets a look on his face and pats the bed beside him. Just
like in Arcadia. "Come on, Dana. We're married now."

"Yes, we are."

He moves over a bit so that I can get onto the bed beside him. He
smells nice.

"Sorry I fell asleep."

"Most men fall asleep AFTER. I don't know whether to be flattered
or shoot you again."

"I'm sorry about this too," he says, indicating the sling with his
chin. "I wanted our first time to be perfect."

"Mulder, your important parts aren't in a sling." His eyes widen.
Marriage and all that waiting has kick-started my innuendo gland.

"By that look in your eyes, those parts WILL be in a sling when
you're finished with me."

"Mulder, you were able to DRIVE with your arm in a sling. So you
should be able to manage this. Or let me manage it. And here I
was, assuming that you were good with your hand."

"That's my right hand, Scully."

"Well lookee here, I happen to have a right hand of my own. Fancy
that..." With it, I caress what I can of his chest around the
sling. I run it over his left bicep. I draw it down his ribs and
across his stomach, pausing to stroke there, then lower, lower,
dipping my thumb into his navel for a moment. His eyes are
glowing. I don't think I'm going to have to ask Uncle Jacob for a
search warrant.

Then my hand reaches the sheets and pulls them down. Let's get
this show on the road.

xXx

Wow. Oh wow. Has the world ended? Everything exploded.

We certainly reached Arcadia. Now I know why it is called
'consummating'. It was like I was consumed by the sensations, the
love.

I'm laying on top of Mulder. Damn, I'm crushing his arm between
us.

He's not complaining. He's got an expression on his face that is
vaguely zombie-like. Or perhaps he's asleep. Or succumbed to shock
or catatonia. I can't tell. That doesn't matter. He's earned it. I
won't shake him awake for round two. Yet.

I ease around so that I'm settled against his good side, lying on
my left side, arm across his waist. I think I'm in shock too.

Wow. Happy New Year indeed!

I know what MY New Year's resolution is. And I don't intend to let
it lapse, even for a day at a time.

Mulder's left hand was no slouch. Dear God, it was everywhere,
often in the same second - or is that hormones clogging my memory?
Who cares!

His eyes open and he smiles at me. "This year is shaping up to be
a good one already."

I kiss his jaw. "Mom will be proud of you. You waited until our
wedding."

"Think Bill will be so understanding?"

I brush off mention of Bill. I'm not letting him in my thoughts at
the moment. "That was wonderful, Mulder. No one could do that to
me but you."

"So I got it up?"

I roll my eyes and decide to match his lewdness and give him a
shock. "Mulder, you got it up so far that it's a wonder the local
airport didn't put out a bulletin warning airplanes to divert
around it!"

He smirks, sure now that I'm not lying. He's certainly more than a
pretty face.

"You deserve that victory cap. I'll even find you a tie that goes
with it."

"So, you want me clothed now?"

"Ties have other uses. Oh, and Mulder, as for the toothpaste tube -"

He promptly reaches for me again, stroking my middle.

"Ummm, Mulder, don't change the subject." It's hard to stay
focused. Those fingers, crafting me like I'm clay... Creating...

"I'm not. I'm demonstrating a point. If you were a toothpaste
tube, would you rather be stroked in the middle -" I gasp. "Or
down the end?" He stops that beautiful touching and I feel his
feet sliding up the bed to tickle mine since he can't sit up
easily to reach my toes with his fingers.

"Mulder!" I growl threateningly.

"Well, would you?" he asks innocently. Then he resumes the good
stuff with his hand, and I arch, and soon I go to make us one but
he shakes his head and gets me to lie there and lies beside me,
still touching me, and says, "This is for you." And he touches me
intimately and whispers in my ear, "My touchstone..." And Oh God,
does he ever find it and...

Let's just say I come to again a while later. Talk about showing
me the truth. I think the light fixture is still oscillating.

I take a deep breath, my face resting on his good shoulder. "So,
we're assigning petnames to parts of the anatomy, are we?"

"Don't you agree that touchstone is a good name for it?" Mulder
asks innocently.

I reach down and take hold of his equivalent, feeling the swift
reaction. Or perhaps that's from watching me just before. "Seems
to me that the 'stone' part is more fitting in your case."

"It comes and goes..." he chokes out.

"Let's make it come."

xXx

Time seems to have stretched to slow down for us, for which I am
very grateful. The hormones have eased off, bringing the pain back
to Mulder's arm, so he's taken another pill and submitted to my
medical ministrations instead of my wifely ones. Showered again
and dressed, I exit the bathroom. We're getting ready to leave.
Mulder is closing the lid of my laptop.

I remember something. "Oh, I had to -"

"No need. I managed to email Skinner your report."

"You emailed..." I go pale, remembering my frivolous parting shot.
Oh God. When is this marriage going to be normal? Well, I never
want the sex to be normal, and so far it has been anything but,
BUT...

Mulder chuckles. "Don't worry, honeybun. I read it first - wanted
to see how you explained away the zombies. I deleted the good
bits. You should have seen the look on your face."

I'll let him live. Now that he's useful for more than just opening
jars.

xXx

We were a little late getting back to D.C. because we kind of went
parking. We only did some necking, but hey, it was fun. And we
watched the stars.

We head to Mom's as promised. My knock doesn't produce an answer
though. Mulder and I look at each other.

"Perhaps she's restraining Bill from going into attack mode,"
Mulder suggests, only half-jokingly.

"Her car is here. And that one has naval department plates." I
point at one on the kerb under the streetlight. As Mulder turns to
look, he knocks over a garden gnome, Old Ewan, that sits near the
door. That in turn knocks over a few around it.

He kneels down to inspect for damage. "Damn. Not the sort of
impression I want to make on my mother-in-law. I don't think he's
broken. That mushroom might be chipped." He sets about restoring
order.

I use my key in the lock. "Mom?" I call. I take off my coat and
hang it on the rack just inside the door.

"We were out the back!" comes her call. My mother and brother
appear in the hallway. "Honey!" Mom rushes forwards to hug me,
then stops. Bill follows her gaze. She is staring at my neck. I
guess my collar has ridden down or something. I forgot to put the
make up on. Conclusions are jumped to.

Bill's jaw sets. "I'll kill him!" he bellows, then his jaw drops.

Because behind me Mulder has entered the house. Mom and Bill stare
at the sling, then at me.

"Actually, brother dear, *I* nearly killed him." I give a very
satisfied grin. "I'll finish him off tonight. Come on in, Mulder,
out of the cold."

He grins back, then puts on a contrite whipped-puppy expression.
"Yes, dear."

Bill sags against the wall, speechless. Mom has a hand over her
mouth and laughter in her eyes.

Then she pulls me aside and whispers conspiratorially in my ear.
"Looks like you already know the advice I planned to give you
tonight, sweetheart. Always keep the upper hand."

Definitely. The millennium bug has been nipped in his bud, and all
is right in my world.


THE END.

Or is it? Because I am pleased to announce that Vickie has written
"Entering the New Millennium" which continues on from this. It
will be posted soon, and it looks like we've got a series on our
hands!