Title: First Steps: V Fresh Air Author: Alanna More flummoxing than any conspiracy or paranormal occurrence is a brand new car seat. On his baby shopping binge two days ago, he had realized just how ill-prepared he and Scully were. The borrowed seat they'd used on the trip home from the airport had been returned, and must be replaced. At the baby superstore, he blew nearly half a month's rent on changing tables and clothes and this car contraption, trying to convince himself that expense does not necessarily equal quality. Two hours and the advice of a charming grandmotherly clerk later, he headed home with the equipment that would prove to be the bane of his existence. Mulder fussed with it for fifteen minutes before finally forcing it into submission. The three of them slipped into the car and headed out to their family debutante ball. If his and Scully's protective streaks hold, he'll be calling old grad school friends for child psychiatric recommendations before Will's old enough for preschool. The past week at home has given him ample reading time, but all the books in the world can't completely quell his new smothering instinct. He had to sweet-talk Scully for another ten minutes to get her up in the front seat, where she belonged, instead of in the back with her son. He doesn't really blame her, as he'd love to be back there too. But perhaps this is the first step in letting themselves feel secure. Two sun shades adorn the windows on either side of Will, despite the overcast day. Mulder glares at the sky, cursing it for ruining their first day out. While the rest of the world is pursuing work and school, he has plans for this Tuesday afternoon. At the old age of thirteen days, Will is going to have his first picnic, rain be damned. Of course, they are new parents and this is not a typical, made-from-scratch picnic. Thank heavens for severance pay and inheritance: he ordered a deluxe basket from a local gourmet bakery, wicker hamper and real china included, and he didn't wince as he signed the charge receipt this morning. Extravagant, yes, but it has to beat the cereal and boxed pasta they've consumed for the past week. As they're stopped at a light near the park entrance, the skies open in a spring storm. Crestfallen, he stares at the water cascading down the windshield. A startled Will begins to whimper in the back seat. Scully is silent, and Dad begins to curse himself for not checking the weather forecast this morning. Then Scully begins to laugh. Loudly. It is the first belly-laugh of hers he has heard in quite some time, even including the warm chuckles at Will's newest feat of babyhood. The light changes to green but he doesn't accelerate, startled and pleased as a warm tingle courses through his body. "Go!" she chides between laughs, and he carefully navigates the car into the park. As they pass a smattering of people running for their own cars, Scully says, "Pull into the lot up ahead. There's a gazebo nearby." The rain a little softer once they've parked, he eases himself out of the car and fumbles with the stroller in the trunk. A large umbrella in one hand, the other hand deftly coaxes the stroller into upright position, and he's thankful the store clerk talked him into the too-expensive but amazingly convenient "fold-and-lock button" design that lets him accomplish the task with one simple press. He grabs the huge plastic store bag, and decides to drape it over Will in the stroller; the gazebo is only a few yards away, after all. Once the task is accomplished, he rolls over to the passenger door and finds Scully with her baby already in hand. She gives him a look as he settles Will into the stroller and arranges the plastic bag over all the parts not covered by the canopy, then he hands her the umbrella. Mulder knows she wants to be the one pushing the pram, but this is his first chance to be his son's hero, and by God, he's going to do it. Thirty minutes later, they are settled in the surprisingly-available gazebo, their feast spread around them. Pancetta and gorgonzola crostini crusts litter the plates, and Scully sips sparkling white grape juice from a goblet. He gently pushes the stroller wheel back and forth as Will sleeps to the accompaniment of the patter of rain and his parents' low voices. He slices off a bit of brie and feeds it to Scully, her lips wrapping around his fingers and sucking lightly. He shivers. Although he has made his peace with having to wait another couple of months to make love to her, she is making it quite difficult. The new baby may have fulfilled her need for intimacy, but seeing her with their child gives her a new dimension of sexiness. The baby chooses that moment to interrupt their warm glow with his tiny cry, but a very different glow spreads through Mulder as she lifts Will out of his stroller and leans back against the bench to feed him. He loves seeing them like this. Sometimes it makes him jealous, and he wishes he had breasts. Other times, he is grateful for the freedom that comes from not being their son's only source of sustenance. But he likes to think that he sustains Will in other ways. In two short weeks he has become a world champion diaper-changer. Whatever Scully cannot provide, he can, by doing the shopping and the cooking, and keeping the apartment dust-free and the humidifier filled. The books say that babies don't develop a real personality until they are at least two months old, but Will is proof that the experts are wrong. Mulder takes joy in discovering his little quirks. He gets a guilty thrill that Will gurgles more at him than Scully. To Daddy's delight, the baby cries at Scully's Chopin CDs, but perked up when Mulder danced with him to the Stones. Will has a scrunched-up crying face for every situation, but Mulder's favorite is his diaper-needs-changing wail, because that means he wants his daddy. As the rain falls around them, he watches Scully hold the baby close as she feeds him. Her hair cascades softly around her face, and she wears a now-familiar look of bliss on her face. Yes, he can get used to this.