Title: "Vacation"
Author: Angela W.  < tapw63@yahoo.com >
Category: MSR (Mulder/Scully married)
Rating: Strong R
Summary: Mulder, Scully and their daughter take a
vacation together and attend a family wedding. Not an
X-File in sight.  Told in First Person, Mulder's POV.
Timespan/Spoilers: In my series of "married" XF
fanfics, this takes place after "Birthday Presents".
In the "real" XF world, I guess it would be some time
past the mid-point of Season 7. I think the only
spoiler is a minor mention of the events of "Detour".
Notes: The marital status of Charles, Scully's
never-seen younger brother, is a bit inconclusive. A
line in a season four episode seemed to indicate he
was married with at least one child, while a
conversation during a season five episode indicated he
was single and childless. In my previous fanfic he's
been single, so that's the way he starts off in this
story. Also, if you really hate Bill Junior, you might
not like this story, because he's actually pretty nice
in this one.
Special thanks to Andrea for beta-reading this for me!
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They
are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.
Feedback: If it's nice or contains *constructive*
criticism, feedback is valued.


I scan my desk one last time, with misgiving. I'm
about to leave the office for a two-week vacation and
I'm afraid of forgetting something. I've come a long
way from the days when the bureau had to threaten to
withhold my pay in order to force me to take vacation
time, but I'm still leery of being out-of-touch for so
long.

Mostly I take my vacation time in three-day
increments; I took a few days off last summer so
Scully and I could spend a long weekend at the summer
house, another few days when Melissa was born in early
November and a few more when Scully's brothers came
into town for Thanksgiving and Melissa's baptism.
Uncle Bill and Aunt Tara are her godparents and that
gesture seemed to finally dispell whatever lingering
animosty there was between me and Bill Junior.

Now we're headed down to Texas for yet another family
event; this time, it's Charles' wedding. I was all for
just doing it as a long weekend - flying down on
Friday morning and coming back on Monday afternoon -
but Scully insisted that as long as we were there we
might as well make a real vacation of it. I smile
softly as I remember the conversation we had when the
subject came up last month.

***

"What do you mean, a 'real vacation', Dana?" I'd
demanded.

"Fox, do you realize that despite all the travelling
we've done together, both before and after our
marriage, we've never taken what most people consider
a real vacation? Even our honeymoon in Hawaii was
essentially a business trip!"

"How about our trip to California last Christmas? I
didn't notice any aliens or paranormal activities at
Bill and Tara's house. Well, not unless you count his
truly amazing ability to walk through the living room
where we were sleeping on the fold-out couch everytime
I even began to *think* about making love to you!"

"Trips to visit relatives don't count. And, before you
bring it up, going up to spend a few days at the
summer house in Rhode Island every year doesn't count,
either!"

"Okay, Scully, what's your definition of 'real
vacation'?" 

"Going someplace just for fun that you don't normally
go, staying in a hotel, eating out every night and
doing touristy stuff," she replied promptly.

"Couldn't we wait and do it in the summer?" I whined.
"That's when most people take vacations."

"That's exactly why we should do it in April," she
countered. "In just a few years we'll be restricted to
a school-year schedule. We should take advantage of
the opportunity to travel at less hectic times of the
year while we can. Besides, I'll be returning to work
the first Monday in May. I can hardly come back from a
six-month maternity leave, work part-time for only a
couple of months, then ask for vacation time!"

I'd conceded defeat and agreed to a week in San
Antonio, followed by a few days in Corpus Christi to
attend Charles' wedding and hang out at the beach.

***

As I'm about to leave the office, Agents Guilbeau,
Chan and Briggs walk in. Charles Guilbeau, a black
agent in his late 40s, is my second in command on the
serial killers task force. Andrew Chan is kind of my
protege, an Asian-American agent who reminds me of
myself 15 years ago. Donna Briggs is the only woman on
the task force; she's in her early 30s but seems to
have retained the interest in horses so many women go
through as adolescents - other than job stuff, it's
the only subject I've ever heard her discuss.

"We need your cell phone, Agent Mulder," Guilbeau
says.

"My phone?" I reply, puzzled.

"Scully called," Chan explained. "She doesn't want you
taking it with you on vacation. She'll have hers, in
case there's some sort of emergency, but she says if
you have yours you'll be calling the office too
frequently."

"Hey, who's in charge around here?" I ask.

"Agent Scully," the three of them answer in unison.

I've never been one to refuse to accept the truth. I
hand over my phone.

***

I arrive home to find Scully packing and playing
peek-a-boo with Melissa, our five-month-old daughter.
Every time she puts an item in the suitcase, she first
holds it in front of her face, then drops it amid
smiles and giggles. I walk in and they both smile at
me. I scoop up Melissa in one arm and drag Dana close
with the other, kissing them in quick succession. It
occurs to me, not for the first time, that I am the
luckiest man in the whole world. Every night I get to
come home to a beautiful wife and beautiful daughter
and be greeted by smiles and kisses. Sure beats the
hell out of all those years when the only things I had
to return home to were my fish!
 
I settle down on the bed to play with Melissa while
Dana continues to pack. "This is one of those
advantages of being married that nobody ever tells you
about beforehand; wives do all the packing," I say.

"Mulder, as I recall, I did most of your packing even
before we were married," she points out dryly. It's
true enough. Despite the fact that I enjoy travelling,
I have some sort of psychological aversion to packing.
Scully figured out early in our partnership that I'd
agree to just about any sort of trade off - doing all
the paperwork, taking the motel room with the leaky
faucet and busted TV, letting her choose where we went
out to dinner, explaining my far out theories to the
local law enforcement officers while she waited in the
car - in return for her doing my packing. 

"Some men get to enjoy pre-marital sex; I had to
settle for pre-marital packing," I say with a mock
sigh.

"I'm not the one who decided it would be more fun to
chase mothmen in the woods than stay in a nice, warm
hotel room and drink wine with my partner," she
replies.

Rather than getting into that - early in our marriage
we agreed that we'd *both* missed a lot of signals
over the years - I say, "You made me turn over my cell
phone; I feel naked without it."

"That's the way I like you," she answers with a smile.

***

The next day, we arrive at the airport extra early.
It's the first time we've flown with Melissa and we're
both a little nervous about how she'll handle it, but
everything goes fine. We find an aisle to ourselves,
with Scully by the window. Between my shoulders and a
strategically placed blanket, Dana is able to nurse
her during takeoff and landing, so that her ears don't
bother her, and she sleeps most of the rest of the
time.

I'm amazed when we check into the hotel. It's a
gorgeous place, right on the Riverwalk, and our
spacious room must have cost a fortune. We can easily
afford it, but Scully made the reservations and
usually she tends to be conservative in these matters.

In fact, one of the very few major fights we've had
about personal issues (as opposed to the professional
arguments we had on virtually a weekly basis when we
worked the X-Files together) was over money. She did
most of our Christmas shopping over the internet,
since Melissa was too little to be taken out to malls,
and she once made some remark along the lines of "Hope
you don't mind that I'm spending a lot of your money,
Mulder,". 

I went ballistic. Demanded what I'd ever done to
deserve a remark like that. I have a lot of hang-ups,
God knows, but money has never been one of them. It
would never occur to me that the money I was earning
wasn't "our" money, any more than the idea that the
infant Scully had carried for nine months and
breastfed night and day wasn't "our" daughter.  

We both calmed down and apologized quickly, but we
still have differences in our spending habits. I'd
never thought of myself as rich but I suppose -
compared to growing up in a family of six on a Naval
officer's salary or trying to make ends meet in
Washington, D.C. while repaying medical school loans
on an entry-level F.B.I. salary - the lifestyle we now
lead is pretty affluent.
 
Once we get unpacked, we strap Melissa into her
snuggli on my chest and begin strolling along the
Riverwalk, holding hands. We duck in and out of a
variety of small shops and art galleries. We get ice
cream cones to eat as we walk along and Scully decides
to tease me with hers. She keeps licking it real
slowly, then sighing and murmuring, "That's *SO*
good!" 

"You're a tease, Scully," I mutter, squeezing her
fingers with mine.

"No I'm not, Mulder," she contradicts. "A tease is a
woman who promises what she has no intention to
deliver. I have *EVERY* intention of delivering on my
promises."

I grin in response and anticipation.
 
When we reach the Alamo, we go in and look around,
then watch a film about the events that occurred there
nearly 200 years ago. I'd expected to find the whole
experience corny, but instead find myself identifying
with Davey Crocket and William Barrett Travis. These
were men who were willing to put their lives on the
line for a principle they believed in, no matter how
crazy their actions might have seemed to other people.
I can relate. 

By the time we're done looking around at the Alamo and
its gift shop, we're ready for an early dinner. In
keeping with the spirit of San Antonio, we choose a
Mexican restaurant.

We get in a minor debate over what to drink with
dinner. Scully's not supposed to have alcohol while
she's nursing, so a bottle of wine is out. She orders
iced tea, but urges me to go ahead and have a beer.
"Come on, Fox, we're on vacation. And we're walking
back to the hotel, so it's not like you have to worry
about drinking and driving."

"Nah, I'll have iced tea, same as you. I don't like to
drink alone. Besides, Texans make good iced tea."

So we drink our tea and eat our enchiladas, but then
have to leave the restaurant in a bit of a hurry,
because Melissa is beginning to fuss. Guess she
decided it was time for her dinner, as well. As soon
as we get back to the hotel, Scully sits down to nurse
Melissa who, by this time, is practically wailing.

"I think I'm going to start her on cereal once we get
home," Dana says as Melissa gulps from her breast.
"She's old enough and, anyway, I need to get used to
nursing less in preparation for returning to work
part-time." 

I nod. Scully will be going back to work in just a few
weeks and she finds the idea of pumping her breast
milk totally unappealing. So she'll continue to nurse
Melissa first thing in the morning and at night before
she puts her to bed, but we'll give bottles with
formula during the day. 

Once Melissa is asleep, Dana heads off to soak in the
sunken tub, but gives me a smile and whispers that she
won't be long. However, as soon as she emerges from
the bathroom, Melissa starts crying. Scully and I take
turns walking the floor with her. She's fine as long
as we're moving, but starts to fuss as soon as we
stop.

"Do you think something's wrong with her?" I ask.
Dana's the Mommy and the doctor; I'm only the clueless
Daddy.

"I think her stomach is probably upset," Scully says.
"Either from the plane ride or possbily from all the
spices that were on the enchiladas I ate; it could
have flavored my milk in some way that didn't agree
with her."

Scully gives a huge yawn and I say, "You go on to
sleep, sweetheart. I'll walk the floor with the baby."

"Are you sure?" she asks. 

"I don't mind," I assure her.

Scully yawns again and says, "I'm sorry we didn't get
to make love. I thought we'd have a romantic evening."

"Maybe we can slip in a little afternoon delight
tomorrow during her nap," I suggest.

So Scully goes to sleep and I walk the floor with
Melissa 'til the wee hours, then finally am able to
set her down and catch a few winks myself. 

***

The next morning we eat breakfast at the lavish buffet
offered by the hotel. Scully carefully avoids the
spicy sausage and huevos rancheros, selecting instead
fresh fruits, pastries and yogurt. After we've
finished our breakfast and she's fed Melissa we  go to
Mass.

We choose to attend in a historic mission chapel that
offers tours on weekdays, but also offers Mass on
Sundays to the tourists staying in the downtown area.
At home, Dana usually goes to Mass alone while I stay
home with Melissa, but this morning we all attend.
Scully's never made a big deal about me not accepting
her religious beliefs, just asked me to keep my mind
and heart open. Occasionally, especially at times like
these, I wonder if the "truth" I've been searching for
all my life isn't maybe right in front of me, after
all. 

Melissa falls asleep in her snuggli as we walk back to
our hotel in the warm spring sunshine and we enter our
room to find the maid has already been there. I manage
to ease Melissa into her crib without waking her.
Dana, apparently deciding to make up for our missed
opportunity from last night, is already half-naked by
the time I turn back around.

Even as I'm quickly unbuttoning my shirt and
unbuckling my belt, a question occurs to me. "Scully,
you don't mind doing this right after Mass, do you?"

She gives me a puzzled look and asks, "Of course not.
Why would I?"

"Well, I don't know. . .I just thought you might think
it was. . .inappropriate or something." 

Scully laughs softly as she sheds the last of her
clothing and pulls back the covers.

"Mulder, are you under the impression that we're about
to commit some sort of sin?" she asks as she slides
between the sheets.

"Um. . ." I hesitate and she laughs again.

"Fox, anyone who believes in God at all has to accept
the fact that He invented sex. We're not misusing it
in any way; we're married. Even if you take the
strictest possible interpretation of Catholic
teachings on sexuality - that it's only acceptable
when the couple is open to new life - we're *still*
not committing any kind of sin," she points out. 

True enough. While the doctor pretty much assured us
that Melissa's conception was a one-in-a-million
triumph over the odds - and while we're both glad that
we were able to have even *one* child together -
Scully and I both share a hope that we might
eventually be able to make a second baby. 

"So making love immediately after Mass doesn't bother
you, mmm?" I ask, slipping into bed beside her and
bending my mouth to hers for a deep, sweet kiss.

When we come up for air, she says, "Well, I think it's
probably best we came back to our hotel room rather
than jumping each other in the church foyer!"

I chuckle at that and tickle her a bit, running my
fingertips down her sides. She giggles and bucks up
against me, then bites down softly on my neck. I
continue to play with her, sliding my hands up and
down her legs and arms, then rolling so that we're
side by side. I put one hand at the back of her neck
to pull her down for another kiss and let my other
hand glide up and down her back and bottom. Her hands
aren't idle, either. She's stroking my shoulders and
chest, then lifting her hand to squeeze my ass and
thighs.

Finally, when Scully has begun to whimper softly, I
slide my hand between her legs. I tickle her a bit
more, which elicits a sound somewhere between a
breathy giggle and a moan from her. I roll her onto
her back again and kneel between her legs, then guide
my tip to her entrance. I push in slowly, savoring her
sweet silkiness.

"I love you," I murmur, settling into a slow and easy
pattern of langorous lovemaking.

"I love you, too," she replies, smiling up at me.
After a few minutes, though, she adds,"Harder,
Mulder."

"Huh?" I ask, moderately suprised. I've always tried
to be gentle with Scully and I redoubled my efforts
during her pregnancy and since Melissa's birth. There
were a few occasions, early in our marriage, when it
happened fast and furious and Scully never exactly
objected, but she certainly never requested such
treatment either .

Scully smiles at me and a certain impish glint dances
in the depths of her blue eyes before she whispers in
a sultry drawl, "Fuck me harder, Fox."

That does it. I abandon soft and slow for hard and
fast. "This what you want?" I pant out, as I thrust in
and out of her. I'm really putting my back into it and
I can feel the pleasure of each thrust all the way up
my spine.

"Yeah, oh yeah!" she murmurs, inching her legs up my
back and angling her hips up toward me. Suddenly
- without the build-up that I've grown used to - she
tenses up and begins throbbing around me, digging her
nails into my shoulders at the same time. She lets out
only a breathy moan, though; apparently, even in the
throes of passion, she hasn't forgotten Melissa is in
the room and might wake up if we make too much noise.

The sight of Scully's passion-dazed face, combined
with the feel of her internal muscles clenching my
cock, sends me soaring over the edge myself. I spasm
inside her, groaning and growling in her ear as I do
so.

As soon as I pull out and roll onto my back, Scully
nuzzles her face into the patch of hair in the center
of my chest and falls asleep with a contented smile on
her face. We differ from the sterotypical married
couple in the fact that she's the one who usually
falls asleep immediately after lovemaking. I'm more
likely to stay awake but this afternoon - worn out
from only a few hours sleep the night before - I zonk
out myself.

It's probably several hours later when Melissa begins
to fuss. Even though she's only an infant, some innate
sense of modesty leads me to pulling on my boxer
briefs before walking over to her crib. I change her
diaper and bring her back to our bed, where Scully is
now looking at the two of us with a sleepy, sated
smile on her face.

"C'mere, precious," she says, holding her arms out to
Melissa and settling the baby against her breast. Then
she smiles at me and indicates the other side of the
bed, "You, too, handsome."

So I walk around to the other side and spoon up
against my wife, pulling her bottom snugly against me
and stroking our daughter's downy hair with my hand. I
drop a kiss on Scully's cheek and whisper, "How ya
feelin'?"

"Absolutely wonderful," she replies. "After this, do
you want to get dressed and go on one of the boat
rides down the river?"

"Sure," I agree.

***

Our days in San Antonio pass quickly and happily. The
weather is gorgeous. Apparently mid-April in south
Texas has weather similar to that of mid-May in the
D.C. area or mid-June in New England. 

We spend one whole day at SeaWorld, where I get into
an animated discussion with one of the dolphin-keepers
as to how much the animals can understand. Scully
finally pulls me away, saying, "Please, Fox. I still
remember when you claimed a gorilla communicating by
sign language was a reliable witness to an X-File we
were investigating."

"Hell, that gorilla was more reliable than most of the
human witnesses we encountered over the years," I
reply.

Finally, it's Thursday, our last night here. We're
leaving tomorrow morning to drive to Corpus Christi so
we'll be there for the rehearsal tomorrow evening and
the wedding Saturday afternoon. Scully and I have just
made love and, amazingly, for once she's remained
conscious enough afterwards to engage in some
afterglow cuddling and conversation.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks drowsily.

"Just that things are going to change somewhat soon
after we get back," I say. "We've got most of next
week in Corpus Christi, then the following week with
me back at work and you still at home, then you'll
start back to work part-time again."

"Do you not want me to?" 

I sigh. "I'm trying not to worry about it. Every time
things change, I think it's going to be worse, but it
always ends up being better."

"Explain yourself, Agent Mulder," she says, with an
inquisitive lilt to her voice.
 
"Well," I say slowly, like I'm beginning a story.
"Once, a long, long time ago, I had the X-Files all to
myself. It was my own private fiefdom and I loved
being the lone wolf of the F.B.I. When I learned
another agent had been assigned to assist me - which I
figured was just bureau doublespeak for 'spy on me' -
I was furious. I figured things would never be the
same. And I was right. They were much, much better.
All my worries were for naught. I didn't get a spy, or
even an assistant. I got a partner. Someone to share
my work, my worries and my passion for the truth."

"So. . . ?"

"Then, once I'd fallen in love with my beautiful
partner, I was scared to rock the boat of our
relationship. I wanted her to share my nights as well
as my days, but I was worried that I'd screw things up
in our relationship and lose her if I made any serious
moves toward becoming her lover. 'Til finally, one
night, I worked up my courage to ask her to marry me."

"And. . .?"

"And it was better than anything I'd ever dreamed of.
Days spent doing work I loved, nights spent enjoying
the most fantastic sex on the planet, virtually ever
moment spent with the woman I love. Getting married
didn't "ruin" our relationship; it improved it."

"Go on."

"Then, you got pregnant, and I was thrilled and
terrified at the same time. I wanted us to have a baby
- not just because you wanted it, but because I always
thought it would be great to be a father - but I
really, really hated having to give up the X-Files.
Yet it's worked out okay. I didn't think I'd like
being part of the bureau mainstream again, but I do. I
like working with Chan and the others, I like being a
boss, I like - don't kill me for this part, Scully -
knowing you're safe at Quantico instead of risking
your life confronting mutants and madmen."

"But. . .?"

"When you said you wanted to take a full six months
off after Melissa's birth, it threw me a little bit. I
mean, you've always been there for me professionally.
Even during the times you weren't working with me
directly, you were always available to do my lab work
or consult with me on cases."

"You never mentioned that you wanted me to go back to
work sooner."

"My point is, I'm glad you didn't. It's been wonderful
having you home all the time. It's like. . .in some
strange way, it's helped me understand my own father
better. During most of my childhood - even before
Samantha disappeared - he'd always been kind of. .
.bitter. But he must have been happy when I was a
baby; eager to rush home every night to see what new
thing I'd learned or to hold my Mom in his arms once
again. I mean, Samantha did exist. That shows my
parents must have gotten along reasonably well until I
was at least three-and-a-half!"

Scully smiles and nuzzles up against me, then murmurs,
"So, now?"

"Now, part of me is worried about you going back to
work, even though it will only be part-time," I
confess. "You do such a fantastic job with Melissa,
but I can tell that it really is a lot of work, too. I
guess I'm a little bit worried that between the baby
and your job, you won't have much time for me. Yet
every other time I've worried, it's turned out fine.
I'm sure you'll manage to do a good job out at
Quantico and still be able to give both me and Melissa
plenty of love and attention."

"I think I can handle it," she says dryly, before
snuggling closer and falling asleep.

***

The next morning we check out of the hotel shortly
after breakfast and make the three-hour drive to
Corpus Christi in our rental car, arriving there in
time for lunch. Maggie spent this past week in
California with Bill Junior and his family and all of
them arrived in Corpus last night. We meet Charles and
the other for lunch and finally get introduced to
Christa, his fiancee. I'm surprised at how young she
is. Charles is in his mid-30s, just a couple of years
younger than Dana, but Christa seems to only be 22 or
so.

Christa greets Dana and me politely enough, but it's
clear which member of our family really interests her.
"Oh, she's beautiful!" Christa says, reaching out to
touch Melissa's cheek softly. "The pictures don't do
her justice. Can I hold her?"

"If she'll go to you," Dana agrees and hands Melissa
over. After a quick check to make sure Mommy is still
within her view, Melissa grasps Christa's necklace and
yanks it off.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Dana immediately cries.

"It's all right," Christa says with a smile, "that's
just what babies do."

"You sound like you're the oldest of a large family,"
I suggest.

Christa laughs. "Just the opposite, actually. I'm the
youngest of a large family. But I've been an aunt
since I was 10, so I'm used to babies."

***

That night, the presence of Bill Junior is required at
the rehearsal, as he's the best man. Maggie and Tara
have also been invited to the rehearsal dinner, so
Dana and I offer to babysit the boys. We take them
down to a playground area on the beach, within walking
distance of our hotel. Dana puts both Melissa and her
10-month-old cousin, Patrick, in the baby swings and
soon sets up a rhythm of pushing them in sequence. She
faces them while pushing, saying stuff like "Here's
Patrick, coming in for a landing, Here's Melissa,
catching up fast!" which they respond to with glee.

Matthew, meanwhile, has decided that - at the ripe old
age of three - he's old enough to go down the big
slide. I'm torn between following him up the ladder
and standing at the bottom to catch him. I finally
decide to do both, following him up the ladder, then
jumping down into the sand and running around quickly
to the front of the slide to catch him.

When I'm exhausted, we walk down to the edge of the
water. Scully and I are each holding a baby, with
Matthew between us, holding both our hands. We laugh
as the water swoops up over our bare toes. 

An elderly woman walks by and begins a casual
conversation with us. Her glance keeps darting between
Patrick in my arms and Melissa in Scully's. Finally,
she asks, "Are your babies twins or just very close in
age?"

Scully smiles and explains that the boys are our
nephews, while Melissa is our daughter. The woman nods
and moves on.



Once we've finished playing, we take the boys -  who
had their supper early - up to our room. Dana sits
down to nurse Melissa while the boys and I watch
cartoons on the Disney Channel. After a while, Matthew
gets up to stand in front of his aunt. "Mommy used to
feed Patrick like that when he was a little baby," he
informs her.

"A lot of mothers feed their babies like this when
they're very little," Scully answers."When they get a
little bigger, like Patrick, they can have baby foods
from jars."

"When they get real big, like me, they can have Happy
Meals," Matthew assures her solemnly.

Dana smiles and ruffles his hair. Soon after that,
Bill and Tara return to collect their two and we get
ready for bed.

"So, did you like your brief brush of dealing with
more than one child?" Scully asks.

"Yeah, I did."

"I hope we can have another one someday," she murmurs.
"Especially since. . ."

"What?" I inquire.

"Well, let's face it, Mulder, we're both a bit old to
be first-time parents of an infant. You're 40 and I'm
close to it. If Melissa never gets a sibling, she's
likely to be completely alone in the world by the time
she's in her early 30s; and that doesn't even factor
in the possibility that you could be killed in the
line of duty. I mean, she only has one grandparent
living; most kids have three or four grandparents
alive at least until they reach high school."

"Leaving off the risk we both run as F.B.I. agents, I
think she's in pretty could shape," I suggest. "After
all, your mother is in good health, which means you
can logically look forward to a long life. And let's
remember that my father didn't die of natural causes;
he was murdered. If Krycek hadn't been in that
bathroom with a gun, most likely my Dad would still be
around. But, yeah, it would be nice to have another
one. If it looks like it's not possible biologically,
we can always look into adoption; we talked about that
early on, when we both were under the impression you
might not be able to conceive naturally."

She smiles and snuggles up to me.

***

The wedding is early the next afternoon. It is like
nothing I've ever experienced before in my entire
life. I've been to a few Catholic weddings and I've
noticed they tend to be a bit more elaborate and
exuberant than Protestant ones. Apparently, however,
Hispanic Catholics multiply the whole concept by at
least ten.

After a long bilingual wedding Mass - Christa was born
in America and speaks perfect English, but I guess
some of her relatives don't - we move to the parish
hall for the reception. There is dancing. There is
drinking. There's a whole smorgasboard full of food,
both typical American stuff and things like tamales
and Mexican wedding cookies.  Christa and Charles
depart after a few hours in a hail of rice, but Bill
Junior tells me Charles specifically told him that
Christa's family will be insulted if the rest of "our
side" of the family leaves before dusk. I'm mildly
surprised that he's casually including me with the
rest of the Scully clan; I guess we really have healed
all the breaches between us, after all.

"Dana's going to have to leave soon," I explain. "She
needs to nurse Melissa."

"Ah, senor," says an aunt of Christa's, "your wife
needs place to feed the baby?"

I nod.

"In there," she gestures, indicating a small room off
the entrance hall. 

I tell Scully where she's been instructed to go. She
leaves and returns about 20 minutes later, her face
flushed with laughter. She says there were two other
nursing mothers in the same room. One spoke only
Spanish, but the other was bilingual, so the three of
them carried on a conversation about birth weights,
their baby's ages, the number of children each woman
currently had and hoped for, and things of that
nature.

"It was lovely, Fox," she says. "They answered all
kinds of questions I've been sort of wondering about
but kept forgetting to ask my Mom."

"Speaking of your Mom, think we can get her to hold
Melissa for a few mintues while we dance?"

"I'm sure she'd be thrilled," Scully confirms.

We find Maggie and leave Melissa in her arms, then go
onto the dance floor. I've got no idea what the song
is playing - it's in Spanish - but it seems to be a
love song of some sort and Scully and I move in
perfect rhythm with each other. Holding her in my arms
is beginning to give me certain ideas, though. I hope
we can leave the reception before too terribly much
longer.

As we take one last turn around the dance floor, we
bump into another couple. It's not 'til I glance over
to apologize that I realize it's Bill Junior and Tara.
Once we turn away from them, I raise an eyebrow at how
close they're dancing; they've never seemed to be a
particularly affectionate couple before. Then it
suddenly occurs to me that - while I've seen both of
them separately on various occasions - this is the
only time I've actually seen the two of them together
when Tara hasn't been in either the very early or very
late stages of one of her pregnancies. And my own
recent experience has taught me that those are the two
times when even a wife who is normally quite. .
.friendly. . . can want to be left alone.

***

By the time we finally leave the wedding festivities,
it is sunset. We're alone on the elevator ride up to
our room, so I stand behind Scully and pull her
against me, running my hand up under her skirt and
along her thigh. I lean over her shoulder, like I did
on that long-ago night when I taught her to play
baseball, but this time I nibble on her ear instead of
merely whispering into it.

"Mulder," she groans, "maybe you'd better cool it."

"Why?" I murmur. "We're married."

"I know," she replies, "and we've got a baby. Who is
going to want to be fed any moment now."

"Okay," I say as we walk down the corridor and into
our room. "Why don't you feed her while I go for a run
along the beach. Want me to bring you a drink when I
come back?"

"Please," she nods.

So I change out of my suit into a T-shirt and shorts
while Scully sits down to nurse Melissa. I enjoy the
run along the beach; it reminds me of the month we
spent in Hawaii soon after we were married. Then I
stop in the hotel bar and order a couple of Pina
Coladas.

When I reach our room, the lights are low and Melissa
is asleep in the crib. Scully smiles and beckons me
out to the small balcony overlooking the ocean. 

"Mulder, when you said you'd bring me a drink, I
thought you meant something non-alcoholic."

"Oh, shit, Scully. I forgot you're not supposed to
have alcohol while you're nursing. I'll go get you
something else."

"It's okay, lover," she says, reching for one of the
frosty glasses. "I don't think one fruity rum drink
during the entire time I'm breastfeeding is going to
turn our daughter into an alcoholic."

I sit down on one of the chairs and pat my thigh, an
invitaton for Scully to come sit in my lap. She
eagerly complies and leans into kiss my neck.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask quietly as we sip
our drinks and look out at the waves.

"Of course, Mulder."

"Do you regret that we didn't have a wedding like
that? A big one, with all your relatives there?"

"No, Mulder."

"C'mon, Dana! You must have dreamed about something
like that when you were a little girl!"

She sighs and runs her fingertips along the rim of her
glass. "Mulder, the wedding of my dreams wouldn't have
been possible unless you'd proposed the day we met."

"What do you mean?"

"You're right, Fox. I did dream of a wedding like that
when I was a girl. But a big part of my dreams always
included Ahab walking me down the aisle and Missy
preceding me as my Maid of Honor. Daddy died only a
few months after we began working together and my
sister died less than two years later. By the time we
reached the point in our relationship where marriage
was right for us, it was too late for that. I'm glad
we did what we did; the first ceremony in Las Vegas,
followed by a Catholic one with my mother in
attendance a few months later."

"As long as you're sure you don't feel cheated out of
anything."

"Oh, let's see," she ponders, pretending to give the
issue serious thought, "I've got a handsome husband
who loves me madly and fulfills every sexual fantasy
I've ever had - plus a few I would never have even
thought of on my own - on a nightly basis. Not to
mention that he's also kindhearted, funny,
intellingent and gets along well with my mother. I've
got a beautiful, healthy baby daughter. I've got a
profession I enjoy, and superiors who are willing to
be flexible enough to let me cut back on my work hours
and pretty much set my own schedule now that I'm a
mother. We don't have any financial problems. Hmm. .
.if I've been 'cheated' out of anything in life, I'm
certainly not aware of it."

I grin, kiss her lightly and finish my drink. "I'm
going to go in and take a shower," I announce, pushing
her gently off my lap. "I'm all sweaty and sandy from
running along the beach. You want to join me?"

"I think I'll just watch," Scully replies.

Watch? She wants to watch me take a shower? Even after
all these years, Scully still keeps me guessing.

"Why do you want to watch?" I inquire as we go into
the room and pull the door to the balcony almost
closed. I leave it open just a fraction; Scully likes
the scent and sound of the ocean to be able to drift
in.

"I don't know, " she murmurs. "I think maybe staying
in hotels all this past week has reminded me of all
those years when we used to travel together for
business before we were married. I used to wake up in
the morning to the sound of your shower going in the
room next door; I was always tempted to slip through
the connecting doors and take a peek."

"Oh," I reply as I strip and start the shower. I'm
surprised that Scully was that. . .visual. . .in her
fantasies of me. Or maybe I'm not. I've discovered
since we've been married that she has a touch of
voyeur in her. The first time I suggested we make love
in front of the mirror I thought she'd demur, but she
didn't.

So I take a quick shower with Scully watching, then
towel off. Now that I'm clean, I have other things in
mind.

"One of us has too many clothes on," I point out. 

"You want to undress me?" she asks.

"I'm afraid I'd go too fast, maybe tear your dress," I
confess. She's still wearing the dress she had on at
the wedding, although she's taken off her shoes and
pantyhose. So Scully nods and begins to take off her
clothes. Very slowly. By the time she's finished, I'm
so hard it's practically painful. I pull back the
covers of the bed and lay down, then hold open my arms
for her to join me.

Scully scoots in beside me and leans down for a kiss.
It's long, slow and deep, both of us tasting and
teasing with our tongues. When we finally come up for
air, Scully dives back in for a weird kind of
almost-kiss, sucking and licking my bottom lip. Then
she moves to my neck, kissing her way from my ear to
my collarbone.

"My turn," I growl, flipping her onto her back. I zero
in on her midsection, kissing first her tummy, then
her thighs. When I dip my tongue into her, we both
sigh in unison. The sensation is incredible. After a
few minutes, she squirms away from me and pants out,
"I want on top."

I nod. While Scully can climax from a variety of
different postions and stimulations, her most powerful
orgasms come when we're having sexual intercourse with
her on top. It's good for me, too; I can put my hands
on her ass, feel her breasts rub against me and look
into her face, all at the same time. So I roll onto my
back and she straddles me, then guides me into her.
She's so wet that I'm immediately buried to my balls.

Scully begins to ride me, moving her hips in little
circles as she glides up and down. I simply relax and
enjoy the sensation, stroking her back and bottom.
Eventually, she comes and it's a doozy. She manages to
keep quiet, but she practically hyperventilates as her
eyes go wide and internal muscles squeeze my cock for
what seems like an eternity.

I wait for her to stop vibrating, then I grasp her
hips with my hands and begin to move. A couple of
quick, hard thrusts and I tumble over the edge as
well, moaning her name softly. We murmur mutual "I
love you"s and fall asleep like that, still joined.

***

The next morning we meet Maggie and Bill Junior and
his family for a farewell brunch. They're all leaving
this afternoon; Maggie is flying back to Washington
and Bill, Tara and the boys are heading home to
California. We plan to stay for a few more days doing,
as Dana puts it, "touristy stuff".

"Did you tell Fox and Dana the good news?" Maggie
asks, looking at Bill.

"No, Mom, because we're not sure yet," he replies.

Scully and I exchange glances, both wondering what's
going on. Could they be expecting again? Quick work,
if they are; Patrick's not even a year old yet.

"What?" Dana asks.

"Well, I'm up for a promotion and transfer next
month," Bill answers. "Rumor has it I'll be assigned
either to the Pentagon or the Naval Academy."

It takes a minute for me to process the news, but a
delighted grin immediately sweeps across Scully's
face. "You'd be in the same area as Mom and us! Wow,
that would be great! On the days I'm not working, Tara
and I could take Melissa and the boys to the park and
the zoo and the beach and stuff."

As I digest this information along with my breakfast,
it occurs to me that the idea of living in the same
city as Bill Junior doesn't give me indigestion the
way I might have thought it would have. I remember the
conversation Scully and I had a couple of nights ago.
If we can't provide our daughter with siblings, and
that's really something that's pretty much beyond our
control, this might be the next best thing; having
cousins she's close to - agewise, emotionally and
geographically.

***

A few nights later, Scully and I are stretched out
beside each other, naked. We've just made love for the
second time that day, having taken advantage of
Melissa's naptime and also jumped each other as soon
as she was down for the night. We'll be getting up
early tomorrow morning to drive back to San Antonio
and catch a flight home.

"Dana, you know how you practically had to twist my
arm to get me to go on this vacation?" I ask.

"Mmm?" she replies sleepily.

"I think I like this idea. Maybe next year we should
go to DisneyWorld."


 Author's e-mail addy: tapw63@yahoo.com