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Title: Men In Black Meet Cookie Monster Summary: A homecoming, and Halloween 2003 Thanks: As always, to Nancy Author's Note: This short story is a continuation of a universe I created in a longer story called The Eyes of a Child. You do not have to read TEOAC in order to follow this one, but I'd love it if you did! Just know that Mulder and Scully are together, and William is their son. It diverts from the show just before This is Not Happening. Dulles Airport For once, his flight had been on time, and a discreet flash of his FBI ID had helped to facilitate a shorter jaunt through Customs. Because his consulting trip had been scheduled for a day and a half, he'd only had his carry-on bag which had remained with him onboard, thus eliminating the need to wait in baggage claim. The drawback to this situation was that all his clothes definitely had that lived-in look after his trip had unfortunately been extended to five days. Mulder walked wearily through the smoky-glassed sliding doors into the concourse, one thought and one thought only on his mind. Getting home to his family, to Scully and William. Preoccupied with that thought, he was certain he was hallucinating when a woman who looked exactly like Scully rose from a chair in one of the lounge areas and started walking towards him. Blinking rapidly, he realized it *was* Scully, and warmth spread through him. He drank her image in -- his every sense parched from their separation. Her hair was not in its usual sleek coif, but rather loose and wavy, a look he found suited her equally, and softened her appearance, and she was wearing the nearly floor-length floral dress he had bought for her beneath her unbelted trench coat. It flowed over her curves, clinging in just the right places. Her make-up was classically understated, her lips the color of ripe berries, and she was staring at him as he stared at her -- with unabashed love and lust. As she neared him, he stuttered to a stop, his carry-on falling from his suddenly lax hand to land with a dull thump. Her last steps were quicker, and then she too was stopping, directly in front of him, mere inches separating their bodies. "Hi," she said, a little breathlessly, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Hi," he returned foolishly, feeling as if he were a teen again, wanting to ask the girl of his dreams to the dance. Coming up on tiptoe, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Welcome home, Mulder." She had stepped back by the time he thought to lean in and perhaps lengthen the kiss, so he instead bent over to pick up his carry-on. "And I'm very glad to be," he told her when he had straightened again, his bag firmly in his grip. His free hand touched her elbow, started them forward. "Where's William?" he asked. "Uncle Fro volunteered the guys to watch him tonight, so we could have some alone time," she replied, flicking a sideways glance at him, the flush deepening. "They're bringing him back at nine tomorrow morning," she added quickly. "I hope you don't mind, I know you missed him too." He did, of course, but by the time they got home, it would have been William's bedtime anyway. "It's nice to have you all to myself," he told her, and she smiled. "Same goes," she returned in a soft voice, and then clearing her throat she told him, "The truck's not far." Mulder/Scully Residence Inside the door, Mulder had just dropped his carry-on and was in the process of removing his leather jacket when Scully threw herself at him. Her fingers wound through his hair to yank his head down, her coat and shoes already discarded. Her kiss was hot and hungry, and tinged with desperation. Nothing like the brief peck that he had received at the airport. He returned it with enthusiasm and a desperation of his own. When she finally released him, and slid back down to stand flat-footed, her hands now resting on his chest, she murmured, "God, I missed you, Mulder." Freeing his arms finally, he shrugged his shoulders and let his jacket fall to the floor. He reached up to cup her face, leaning in as he gently pulled her forward. Rubbing his nose on hers in a brief Eskimo kiss, he confirmed, "It was a long five days without you." It hit him then that he was finally home, and with a huge sigh, he hauled her against him in a bone-crushing hug. Her arms wrapped around him, snaking underneath his, and she returned his squeeze with an equal strength. Scully let out a hum of contentment, nuzzling her cheek against his chest, and he realized they were gently swaying from side to side. He dropped his chin so that it rested on the top of her head, and let his eyes slip shut, his hands slowly stroking up and down her back. They stayed that way for a few long moments. When he straightened at last, he brought one hand to her jaw, tilting her chin up. Leaning in, he trailed his lips down her cheek to her mouth. Her lips parted on a heavy sigh, her mint-scented breath wafting over his face. Eyes closing again, he kissed her lightly before deepening the contact, his tongue sliding into the warm recesses of her mouth. Moaning, Scully slid her hands up to encircle his neck, lifting herself up on tiptoe once again and pressing her body full-length to his. Staggered by the intensity and passion of their kiss, Mulder took a step back, taking Scully with him. His shoulders butted into the door with a painful 'whump' that he ignored as she took advantage of this new position to begin undulating against him. His pulse leapt, as did something else. But despite their nearly two-week long abstinence, he did not want to celebrate and consummate his homecoming in the front foyer. Not this time, anyway. Breaking their embrace with reluctance, he murmured, "I think we should take this upstairs." His thumb rubbed over her lips -- swollen and wet -- and she sighed, blinking languidly. Then, as if a spell had suddenly been broken, she took command. Spine straightening, she told him, "Go have a shower. I'll take care of your things." With that, she brushed past him and bent to retrieve his carry-on bag. When she saw he was not moving, she gave him a quick slap on the ass. "Upstairs, Mulder!" He went upstairs. The shower stall had more than enough room for two, but Scully was crowded against his back, her arms wrapped around him and her soapy hands swiping impatiently over his chest, almost roughly. Her nails lightly scraped his nipples. "Hey," he mock-protested, arousal humming through his veins. "Easy on the manhandling." Her chuckle was low, and just this side of wicked. "I prefer to think of it as handling my man." One of her hands slid down his abdomen and grasped his burgeoning cock. "Don't you like to be...handled, Mulder?" "Guhhhh," was his eloquent response, along with an instinctive thrust into her hot, soapy fist. She obliged by squeezing him lightly. "Mulder," she said conversationally, "if I keep doing this," and here she explained 'this' by squeezing again, "are you going to be of any use to me? I have plans that require all of your parts in working order." Her tone was matter- of-fact, not coy in the least. A half-laugh/half-moan slipped past his lips. Eyes slamming shut, his hands came up, palms planting on the tile to brace his weight -- his legs were weak from her touch, and from the meaning behind her question. Her thumb was tracing the sensitive ridge at the head of his cock, and white lights began to dance on his closed eyelids. Through gritted teeth he warned, "Scully, it's been a long two weeks, if you'll recall, and I really want to have the stamina for what you have planned." The week before his trip, both William and Scully had been sick with colds, and she had not been up to any extracurricular activities, despite her desire to the contrary. The spirit had been willing, the flesh had not. She hummed regretfully, but did not halt her teasing ministrations. In fact, she intensified them, her clever fingers gliding along his rigid flesh to cup and squeeze his balls. "Scully," he hissed, drawing out the last syllable. Pleasure was rippling through him in slow waves, his pulse a frantic thrumming he could feel everywhere. "I have faith in your stamina, Mulder," she purred, once again stroking along his length. Shakily, Mulder told her, "I don't. You're playing with fire." "Mmmmm," she laughed into the skin of his back, the touch of her lips causing him to shiver. "I'm not afraid of being burnt, Mulder." "Ahhhhhh...." Scully released him finally, after one last squeeze. Becoming rather business-like, she told him, "Finish your shower," and stepped back to give him room. Sucking in desperate lungfuls of air, he straightened up again -- having at some unknown point let his forehead drop to rest against the wall of the shower. While he concentrated on breathing, Scully slipped past him and rinsed herself off. Passing him once again, she murmured, "Don't be long," and exited the stall. Bending slightly, Mulder reached down and turned the taps -- to ice cold. Scully was not in the bathroom when he finally exited the shower, but the scent of her body lotion lingered in the air, sweet and seductive. And despite his cold shower, that fragrance, combined with the fact that his brain had been working on a feverish overtime since her words about having use for all his parts, served to rejuvenate a particular body part he knew she was rather enamored with. Grabbing his towel, he rubbed it over his head and then whisked it over his body. The friction of the terrycloth's nubby texture further stimulated his sensitive and aroused flesh, serving to heighten his need, his excitement. Breathing a little heavily, he wrapped the towel around his hips, and knotting it loosely, hastened to their bedroom. Lit only by candles, the room was cast in shadows. He did not see Scully immediately, instead hearing her voice, throaty and deep. "Lose the towel, Mulder." Her tone brooked no disobedience. Smiling to himself, he let his fingers toy with the knot as he strutted to where he thought she was standing. Only she was not there. A whisper of sound, a rush of air, and then her voice came again, from directly behind him. Close, but not touching. "The towel, Mulder. Now." He loved Scully in all her connotations and moods, but had to admit a certain...fondness for this one. Aggressive, demanding...horny. Suddenly she was pressing herself against him from behind as she had in the shower, her fingers running teasingly along the edge of the towel. She was not nude, cool silk touched his bare skin, but he was fairly certain that was the only barrier between their two bodies. That, and his towel. "Do you need some help, Mulder?" Her voice was as silky as the garment she wore, rich and sultry, carrying the faintest hint of amusement. "Having trouble following simple commands?" A subtle reminder of her order to remove his towel, he knew. One of her hands covered his, and she pushed downwards. The towel fell. Hands sliding to his hips, she gave him a nudge forward. "Get on the bed." This time he did her bidding without hesitation, arranging himself so that he lay flat on his back in the center of the mattress, limbs sprawled wide. Scully was standing at the side of the bed, and he watched in anticipation as she shed her short robe with a shrug of her shoulders. She placed a knee on the mattress and murmured, "Now for an early Halloween treat." At his curious look, she added, "You," and crawled hungrily towards him. Mulder/Scully Residence The doorbell rang at precisely nine o'clock, and was followed immediately by a series of sharp and familiar raps -- 'shave and a haircut, two bits'. A Gunman favorite. Smiling and shaking his head, Mulder loped out of the kitchen and to the front door, hoping to get there before they started any further knocking. His delectable partner was still in bed, having finagled the day off, as she had told him late the night before, and he had been hoping to surprise her by bringing William up to play alarm clock. Yanking the door open just in time, he was confronted by Langly's fist, inches from his nose. "Dude," Langly greeted him as he lowered his hand, a smirk on his face. "Wouldn't want to make that nose any bigger." "You're a laugh riot, Alice," Mulder returned, scanning the suspiciously empty stoop behind the lone Gunman. "Now where's my son?" Before Langly could reply, Mulder heard a spate of furious whispering from somewhere off to the left of the blond man, out of Mulder's range of sight. One distinct little voice in the melee made Mulder smile. "Show Daddy!" he heard William say in his sweetly demanding way, and wondered what his son wanted to show him. A curious whistle sounded then, and it was clearly a cue for Langly, who stepped to the right and turned sideways to look behind him. There was an awkward moment when absolutely nothing happened, followed by Frohike's prompting, not quite a whisper, "Go show daddy, Big Guy." William giggled, and then strutted into view. And there was no other word for it, the little boy definitely strutted. Strutted in his perfectly-fitted black suit, white button- down shirt and black tie, complete with black wingtips and black shades. His fine reddish-blonde hair was slicked back, and pinned to one lapel was a little badge Mulder could not make out. In one hand William held a miniature briefcase, black of course. "Meet the latest Man in Black, Agent William," Langly said with obvious pride. Two of the three Gunmen were obsessed with the Men in Black movies, while Byers would only admit that 'they were good.' "Daddy!" William screeched and dropped the briefcase to run full tilt towards his father. The shades fell off in the process of being lifted high up into the air and spun about, and he became a squealing, giggling little boy once again. One who smelled of Byers' subtle aftershave, Mulder noted as he hugged William to his chest, burying his face in his son's neck. After a few moments, William squirmed to be let down, though he remained plastered to Mulder's leg, one arm circling Mulder's knee. "Little guy looks like an accountant now," Byers noted, adjusting his own necktie minutely. "Or a Fibbie," Mulder joked, hand rising to ruffle his son's hair, and halting just millimeters away, deciding the slicked look would have to remain for the time being. "Mini-Mulder!" Langly chortled. The blond Gunman was also a fan of the Austin Powers series, and had even gone through a thankfully brief period where he talked like Dr. Evil. Frohike broke in with a laconic, "I'm rather partial to the moniker 'Fox Cub' myself." The smirk he aimed at Mulder needled the dig a little deeper. "Watch it, Mel-vin," Mulder returned, putting emphasis on both syllables. "Mel-VIN!" piped in William with glee, hand smacking Mulder's thigh for apparent emphasis. "Mel-VIN!" Frohike looked alarmed, and quickly crouched down in front of Mulder, nose to nose with William. "Hey, buddy," he said in a mock-whisper. "It's your Uncle Fro, remember? Uncle Fro." "Uncle Fwo!" William dutifully repeated. Sending Mulder a satisfied upwards glance, Frohike smiled and told William, "Cookies later, okay, buddy?" "Cookies!" The voice was demanding this time. Mulder shot Frohike a dirty look. "Now you've done it, *Mel- vin*. Squirt here's going to be asking for cookies all morning now." His expression grew more evil. "And you'll be the one answering to Scully." Frohike stood quickly, almost toppling over in his haste, and backed away, hands held up in surrender. "Actually, Mulder my man, we've got things to do." He tried a smile, which came out more as a grimace. "You'll have to pass on our greetings to the lovely Agent Scully." Mulder's grin was triumphant. "Coward," he whispered at Frohike and then laughed when the little man nodded emphatically. The three Gunmen said their goodbyes to William, which included high fives on the parts of Frohike and Langly, and Mulder waved with William until their dilapidated van was no longer in sight. Once inside with his son and his costume accessories in tow, he closed and locked the door before turning to face William. "Should we go wake Mommy?" he asked in hushed tones. William nodded enthusiastically and grabbed for Mulder's hand, his free hand pointing upstairs. "Wait, William," he said to his son. "Let's put your shades on again, and show Mommy your costume from the Gunmen, okay?" "'Kay." Shades in place and briefcase in hand, William toddled up the stairs after his father, having lately become very insistent that he could walk up the stairs on his own. Mulder hesitated at the door to he and Scully's bedroom, putting his finger to his lips to warn William to be quiet. William mimicked the gesture, his cheeks apple-red from restrained giggles. This was a familiar, loved game for the two of them -- to try and surprise Scully. Sometimes they were successful, sometimes not, and sometimes Scully pretended for William's benefit. As she was this time, Mulder realized the moment they popped inside, with William yelling, "Mornin', Mama!" once they were through the door. They had noticed that after more than a few hours away from Scully, William reverted to using the more babyish-sounding 'Mama' as opposed to his usual 'Mommy'. It was the telltale way Scully had her head buried in her pillow that tended to give her away, though Mulder had not told her this little tidbit. He was keeping that information close to his chest, in case it ever became useful. Scully rolled over with a mock-sleepy yawn and stretch, and smiled wide when she saw William. The smile grew even wider as she took in his attire fully. "He looks so much like you, Mulder!" she exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth as she grew misty-eyed. "You have to put your black suit on so we can get a picture." Personally, he thought William took after Scully more than himself, but both Scully and Maggie Scully insisted there was quite a bit of Mulder in the little boy as well. And not just the stubbornness and mannerisms, either. "The Gunmen put it together," Mulder informed her, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, near her hip. They watched as William practiced the moves his 'uncles' had clearly taught him. "Isn't it great?" "It is," she agreed, laughing at their son's antics. She sobered suddenly though, a frown taking over. "My mother made him his costume though, Mulder. I think she'd be hurt if he didn't wear it, I know she put a lot of time into it." Oh. He remembered now that Scully had mentioned something in the blur of the previous night -- two bouts of nookie throughout the midnight hours, followed by some tender, morning loving before his six o'clock run. "It's the Cookie Monster," Scully continued, "and it's the most adorable costume I have ever seen." Her eyes flicked from William to Mulder. "I hadn't shown it to him yet, so maybe..." Mulder reached out and touched his fingers softly to her lips, halting the offer he knew she was about to make. "I've got an idea," he said. "How about he wears the Cookie Monster costume to his day-care Halloween party, and this get-up out for trick-or-treating?" "Cookie!" William shouted then, having approached while they were intent on their discussion, and clearly having heard the magic word once again. "Did I mention how fitting the Cookie Monster costume is?" Mulder quipped with a grin to Scully. Their son was a notorious cookie lover, not to mention quite adept at conniving people into giving them to him. Reaching out, Mulder carefully lifted William onto the bed with them, mindful of the boy's shoe-clad feet as he swung him over Scully's body. Scully returned the smile and nodded. "My mother and I thought so too." She received a sloppy morning kiss from William, and then her smile turned to a frown as she reached up to stroke William's head. She had encountered slicked- back hair, and now pulled her hand back before making much contact. "Your idea is an excellent one, Mulder. Done." Mulder leaned over to kiss her quickly, catching the faint hint of minty toothpaste, another clue she had already been up, before scooping William up once more. "Come on, big guy," he said to William. "Let's go make Mommy breakfast while she has her shower, okay?" "Bweakfast!" was William's ringing end orsement, loudly shouted in Mulder's ear. This was followed by an equal advocacy of, "Cookies!" Shaking his head and laughing, Mulder blew a kiss at Scully over his shoulder and headed out the door. Mulder/Scully Residence Whistling softly under his breath, Mulder descended the stairs and headed to the kitchen in search of Scully. William was out like a light for a later-than-usual afternoon nap, thanks to an extra-long, and very vigorous and energetic Halloween party at his daycare. A party that had gone very well, he thought with a fond smile of remembrance. The Cookie Monster costume had been an original, and a smashing hit. Though the Men in Black costume would also have been a one-of-a-kind costume as well. But maybe not as appreciated by the other parents and children. Scully was there as he had suspected, seated at the kitchen table, a scalpel held carefully in one hand. Her face was scrunched up in concentration, her hair pinned untidily back, with strands wildly escaping their confines. In a sexy way, of course. A capped marker was gripped in one side of her mouth. Before her, on several layers of newspaper, rested their pumpkin, a giant of a specimen he had been lucky to find still hanging around on Halloween Day itself, earlier that morning. "You know, Scully," he began, and despite the softness of his tone, she jumped slightly, having obviously been quite unaware of his entrance. "Sorry," he apologized. "Thought you would have heard me." He had been accused in the past of sounding like a herd of elephants when coming down the stairs. She shook her head, and made a 'mmmmfff' noise that Mulder interpreted as asking him to take the marker out of her mouth for her, which he did. "Thanks," she said, and smiled at him. "William asleep?" Grabbing the chair to her left, he lifted it and brought it to rest beside hers, taking a seat. "Yep. Don't think we'll hear from him for at least a couple hours." He leaned to the right and nudged her with his shoulder. "Takes after his mother that way, you know." She merely grinned, totally unoffended. "You're just jealous we can sleep that well," she teased. She found it vastly amusing that he could not stay in bed past six o'clock in the morning, if he retired at a regular hour of night. Thankfully his insomnia was a thing of the past, and though they both suffered from the occasional nightmare, neither suffered serious lack of sleep from them. There was a moment of companionable silence, and then Mulder recalled what he had been about to say before he had been led off-track. "You know, Scully," he tried again, fighting the urge to smile. "I know it's your forte, but it's pretty morbid that you're using a scalpel to carve our son's pumpkin, don't you think?" She sent him a smirk. "Feeling queasy?" "Don't go there, woman," he mock-warned, shaking his finger at her. Sniffing prissily, she reminded him, "I've told you before that I can get a more accurate carving with my scalpel." She had made sure to inform him when she had pulled out the scalpel for last year's pumpkin that it was brand new, which had been a relief. "I know, I know," he returned, the smile emerging at last. "Just like teasing you." "I'm well aware of that, Mulder. But a man who gets squeamish over pumpkin innards really shouldn't tease a scalpel-wielding woman, you know." He shuddered. He hated the slimy, slippery feel of the pulpy orange strands winding about his fingers and wrist. "They're disgusting, Scully!" "I've noticed you certainly don't mind eating the seeds though," she commented archly. "I think for all my work, those seeds should be mine." That wouldn't be fun. He loved roasted pumpkin seeds almost as much as he loved sunflower seeds. Eyeing her speculatively, and recalling the fact that their son would not wake for quite some time, he murmured, "How about I work my share off in trade?" Her look was slightly suspicious; he had a habit of wrangling out of such deals. But he had no intentions of doing so for this one, it would be a win-win situation for them both. Rising from his chair and pushing it aside with one foot, he moved to stand behind Scully. He rested his hands on her shoulders and began to massage gently. She relaxed in gradual stages, sighing softly, and her head slowly fell forward, baring her nape to his gaze. Bending down, he grazed his lips over the highly sensitive skin, and both saw and felt her shiver. He pulled back slightly, smiling triumphantly, and made his pitch, his voice low and husky. "Ever do it with a pumpkin watching you, Scully?" *The end feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com
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