Big Deals (part 7 of 13)

by Mik

Mulder stretched, and sighed. Then opened his eyes. The sun was at a strange angle. Shit, he overslept. Skinner was going to kill him. They had this unspoken agreement that Mulder was going to keep his nose clean so that no one could accuse Skinner of covering for him. Just as he was pushing back the bedclothes, he heard a voice snap, "Freeze, Mulder."

Heart in his throat, he turned, looking over his shoulder toward the door. He knew the voice, he knew the tone, he knew what it meant. Don't tell me he turned around and came back for me? But Skinner wasn't in his Assistant Director drag. He was in blue jeans, a flannel shirt over a turtleneck, a really good look for him. He was holding a cup of steaming coffee. What..." Mulder worked his jaw, trying to make words come out. "Isn't it Thursday?" he asked in a sleep roughened voice.

Skinner nodded, and brought the coffee to the bedside table. "Didn't you get the memo? You had twelve days of ETO that were threatening to roll over. I took two of them for you." He leaned over and kissed Mulder's brow. "And I'm taking some too. Relax. You're sleeping in."

Mulder fumbled for his watch. Eight thirty. He should be on the tollway by now. Ah, well...he settled back in the pile of pillows and sighed. There were worse things in life than to find out his boss was forcing him to take days off and his lover was taking them off with him. And then there was another little matter that was making little curling dances around his lips. Scully's second implantation had passed the thirty day mark yesterday. To celebrate, they had agreed to be marginally hopeful.

"You're looking awfully smug, Agent Mulder," Skinner observed, a little smile playing on his face too.

Mulder stretched, and brought his hands behind his head. "Why shouldn't I? Breakfast in bed on a Thursday?"

"I'll bring you some bread," Skinner drawled.

"I like bread," Mulder retorted.

"Actually, I am cooking," Skinner confessed.

Mulder's eyes opened a little wider. "Oh? What?"

Skinner took a turn at being smug. "You'll see."

"What did Scully say when you told her I was taking time off?" Mulder asked, reaching for his coffee.

"'It's about time'," Skinner quoted.

"She did not."

"She did, too."

Mulder frowned. "Hey, how could I have any ETO left? I used up most of it with bronchitis, and then we went to Hawaii and what about the three days I took off when we moved?" He sat up, eyeing his partner suspiciously. "Walter S. Skinner, what did you do?"

Skinner shrugged. "Don't ask, don't tell."

"Yeah, but what did you do about my ETO?"

"Breakfast is burning." Skinner hurried away.

Mulder took a sip of coffee, waiting until he heard Skinner's steps on the stairs. Then he reached for the phone, dialed and waited.

"Scully."

"Hey."

"I thought you were taking the day off?" she said warily.

"I am. I just wanted to … you know … check in."

"Mulder, didn't I tell you last week that I would call you if anything changed?" She sounded just a bit annoyed.

"Sorry." He wasn't. "I'm just concerned. Shoot me."

"It may come to that," she promised.

"Hey, I went shopping on the Internet last night."

"Mulder, I don't want to know about your sex life."

Mulder made a face, and his sense of well-being dropped a few floors. There hadn't been a sex life in a while. Apparently, Skinner was intent on keeping his ridiculous vow. But he made himself keep his voice light. "I was talking about our sex life - such as it was."

"Mulder, don't tell me you've started shopping for baby things." She sounded both horrified and yet, incredibly pleased.

"Oh, just a couple of little things. I hope the kid wants an electric nail gun and twenty yoga lessons."

Scully giggled. "I have a doctor's appointment on Monday - just a check up. You don't have to -"

"What time?"

"Three thirty."

"I'll be - I gotta' go." He dropped the phone into place and eased back into the pillows.

"Who are you talking to, Kit?"

"Are you hearing things again, Kat?" Mulder said innocently.

"Yes, I'm hearing you talking to someone. I distinctly heard you say 'I gotta' go'." He set a tray down in front of Mulder.

Mulder considered the repast; waffles, melon balls, scrambled eggs and a single slice of whole wheat bread. He grinned and reached for the bread. "Is there an occasion, Kat? Or are you just feeling the call of the wild this morning?"

"Who were you talking to?"

Mulder pulled the crust off in one, fluid, practiced movement. "Scully," he confessed. "I wanted to make sure she knew I was taking the day off."

"I told you what she said -"

"Yeah, well." He gestured with the limp crust. "I wanted to hear it for myself. So, what is the occasion?"

Skinner shrugged. "You'll see."

"Oh, no," Mulder groaned. "Not the man of mystery persona again. I hate that one. Let's do good cop, bad cop." He wiggled under the breakfast tray. "I want to be the bad cop."

"After breakfast," Skinner promised and handed him a napkin.

"Seriously," Mulder said, chewing bread crust.

"After breakfast." Skinner smiled at him. "How much of that are you actually going to eat, or should I bring more bread?"

Mulder looked down at the tray. "I'll eat it," he promised. "Did the paper come?"

"Anything else?" Skinner said, arching a brow. He didn't do it as well as Mulder, and nowhere near as well as Scully.

"Um, naked dancing girls?" Mulder suggested innocently.

"I'll see what I can do," Skinner said, going toward the door.

"I'll settle for a naked dancing A.D.," Mulder called to his retreating back and then settled back into the bed. Damn, damn, damn. Not again. Almost six weeks of nothing but chaste kisses. Mulder had been uncomfortable for a few days, he was willing to admit that, but not so physically or emotionally traumatized that he wasn't interested in a little intramural sports now and then. But Skinner wouldn't even succumb to heavy petting. The minute tongues got involved, even the kissing stopped. If he doesn't get over this idea that he's hurt me, Clive is going to start looking good to me.

Clive. Mulder shuddered. The Fruit Loop Twins, as he thought of them, had started coming around again about two weeks after the ill-fated party, wanting to make nice and be friends. Skinner and Mulder both made it very clear they didn't like the games the other boys played, and kept their marbles at home. It wasn't that Skinner wasn't any fun anymore; they had some great movie nights, played in the jacuzzi a couple of times, even danced once or twice, and they spent a lot of time on the roof of the Hoover, trying to see if Mulder could defy Skinner's center of gravity, and knock him on his butt, but there was nothing that even sniffed at sex.

Hearing Skinner coming back up the stairs, Mulder picked up his fork and scooped melon balls into his mouth. "Your paper, sir," Skinner said formally.

"Anything in there about F.B.I. agents howling at the moon?" Mulder asked, his mouth full.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" Skinner scolded.

"I don't know, it's been so long since I've really had my mouth full..."

"Eat. I'm in the middle of something." Skinner turned back toward the door.

Mulder unfolded the paper, and sent his eyes over the headlines, while he took a bite of waffle.

Forty five minutes later, Mulder had read the paper, eaten half the waffle, all the melon balls, and at least three whole bites of the eggs. He was starting to get restless, and there was this annoying banging going on somewhere nearby so he couldn't let himself drift back to sleep. Who would be doing home repair on the last day of March? It sounded nearby. Maybe Chaz was pounding a stake through Clive's heart at last.

He opened the paper again. Baby sale? His eyes skimmed the ad. It was amazing what advertisers felt a baby needed these days. Still … that Mickey Mouse musical mobile looked cute, and he really liked those little striped overalls - the ones that looked like they should be worn by train conductors. He heard Skinner on the steps, and quickly turned to the Sports section.

Skinner looked slightly flushed. "How's it look for the Orioles?" he asked, going into the bathroom to wash his hands and splash water on his face.

Mulder made a face. "Today's the first day of the season and they're already in the toilet. Why don't you follow a real team, like the Braves? Designated hitters are for wimps."

"This from a man who won't call pitches unless he knows when the pitcher got out of diapers?" Skinner said, coming back into the bedroom. "Come on, get dressed."

"Oh, thank you, pasha. I thought I was being kept naked for your harem." Mulder scooted from the bed, deftly avoiding Skinner's outstretched hand as well as the smack aimed for his backside. He washed his face, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, naked, watching Skinner in the mirror. Skinner was actually looking to see how much breakfast he ate. He decided to pull out all the stops. He wore his tightest pair of jeans, and a black turtleneck, and then didn't bother to comb his hair once he pulled the shirt on. For some reason, this punk look really turned Skinner on. At least, he thought, looking at Skinner reading the sports page, it used to. "I must be getting old," he muttered. He came over to the edge of the bed. "Just so you know, after you dump me for your next little boytoy, Sharon and I are going to pool our alimony and move to Paris."

He didn't get even a smirk out of Skinner. Skinner merely folded the newspaper, picked up the tray and stood. "Downstairs. Don't leave your cup."

Mulder picked up his coffee cup and followed Skinner downstairs, mournfully. Last month, in New York, he'd had hope that they would work things out. The only thing that got penned was about fifteen hundred copies of his book. "At least something's going right," he mumbled.

"Stop muttering, Kit," Skinner complained, putting dishes in the dishwasher. "Want some more coffee?"

"No. Want some scotch?"

Skinner pulled a frown. "What's gotten into you, Kit?"

"Nothing," Mulder complained. "That's the problem."

"You just need to burn a little energy." Skinner nodded toward the back door.

"What, are you going to make me whitewash a fence or something?" Mulder protested. Whenever he complained of restlessness or boredom at home, his father always managed to find some boring, but exhausting task to fill up his hours.

"Come on." Skinner gave him a push.

Outside, Mulder noticed the ladder was out, by the garage. That wasn't like Skinner. What was on the roof of the … oh. He stopped, stared and slowly started to grin. Skinner had put up a basketball hoop over the garage, just like he used to have at home. "Did you do this for me?" he asked, immeasurably touched.

"Well, us. I got tired of driving over to the Hoover on the weekends."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Mulder put up his hands. "I'm having this vision of A.D. Skinner using a hammer and nails." He shook his head dramatically. "I gotta' call Scully. It's an X-File."

"Do you want to play, or not?" Skinner produced a brand new basketball.

Mulder knocked the ball from his fingertips and bounced it down the back steps. These jeans were too tight to play basketball in, but he could get off two or three practice - he stopped, and turned, staring at Skinner. He let the ball fall from his fingers. "That's a hell of an occasion," he said.

Skinner nodded, slowly. "Happy anniversary," he said, almost sadly.

"Wow, Kat," he said. A year since that day on the basketball court. A year since it all began.

Skinner nodded again. "Has it been too bad?" he asked.

Mulder moved, hitting him in the middle, knocking the breath out of him. "Inside," he demanded, pushing. Staggering, he got Skinner up the back stairs, but they both fell just inside the back door, and ended up on the floor in the hall between the den and the kitchen. Mulder leaned down and kissed Skinner, thoroughly. "It's been good, all of it, even the bad," he said earnestly. "I never belonged to anyone in my life. You can't be involved with another human being without having a bad time or two, but I'd rather have the bad times and not be alone. I don't regret anything that's happened in the past year. Anything," he added, emphatically.

He leaned down again, and nuzzled Skinner's ear, and let his tongue trail along Skinner's jawline. When he brought his tongue to Skinner's mouth, Skinner tried to push him away. Mulder locked his hands on either side of Skinner's head. "Don't stop me," he warned. "I intend to have my way with you, right here, right now." He licked down Skinner's throat, tugging the turtleneck away with his teeth. When he was sure he would get no more protests from Skinner, he let one hand work its way up under the fabric of Skinner's shirts, and brush across Skinner's ultra-sensitive chest. He heard Skinner's breath catch, underneath him, and he smiled. "How do you want it, Kat?" he teased, rubbing against him. "Wet and wild or slow and seductive?"

Skinner's arms came up around his shoulders, locked into place and rolled, pulling Mulder underneath him. "I want you," he growled. "I'll take you any way I can get."

"Okay, pasha," Mulder said with a breathless giggle. "Let's take it slow and easy."

"And not on the floor with a March wind up my ass," Skinner said, backing onto his knees and hauling Mulder up by the shoulder. "Upstairs. Undressed. Jacuzzi." He turned and shut the back door.

"Wait a minute. Are you the good cop or the bad cop?"

"Do you want me to get my cuffs out?" Skinner warned. His eyes were glazed, his breath coming hard, to match other aspects of his physiology.

"That would make you the bad cop, right?"

***************************************

"Mulder, where in the world did you get these things?" Scully didn't know whether to be pleased or alarmed by the tiny booties with the cartoon alien heads on the toes.

Mulder shrugged. "The question more accurately should be where in the world wide web. You'd be amazed at what you can find on the internet," he said. He watched her look at them doubtfully. "You don't like them." He reached for another box.

"It's not that …" Scully looked up, in dread. "It's just …" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's that?"

"This is for you." He pulled out a brown and gold box. "And these are for me." He pulled out another one.

"Biscotti." Scully pounced. "I'll say one thing about being pregnant. I sure get the munchies a lot." She tore at the box like a feral dog. "Have you told him yet?"

Mulder shook his head. "His birthday is in another two weeks. I got him a tee shirt. That will tell him." He glanced at his watch and frowned. "We'd better get going." He went for Scully's coat. "Why do you have to have an ultrasound? Isn't it too soon? I mean, you're only at eleven weeks, right?"

Scully shook her head, working on her second cookie. "They just want to determine if there's more than one fetus developing," she explained patiently. "It's a very common procedure with in vitro fertilization, even this early in the pregnancy."

"If you say so," Mulder muttered. "Put those things away." He pointed at the collection of baby stuff he'd had delivered to the Bureau. "What if Skinner comes down here looking for us. I don't want to give it all away before his birthday."

"He's starting to get suspicious," Scully confided. "The other day, I ran into him on my way out to Quantico, and he asked me how I was feeling, you know, in that meaningfully casual way of his."

"I know that way," Mulder agreed, with a nod and a rolling of his eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"That I was doing very well." She was quiet until they reached his car. "Do you think he's going to be angry that we did this?"

"Angry? He's going to end up loving you as much as I do," Mulder protested. "The night we got married he started making noises about adoption. This is a man who has a serious paternal leaning, and it will be nice for him to have someone other than me to lean toward." Mulder shook his head, and confessed, in a soft, not quite sad voice, "There are times when I'm not sure if he thinks he married me or adopted me."

"Well, he's always been like that with you," Scully said. "When he first became our A.D., he was very paternal toward you. He saw something in you, right from the first, something he felt he lacked, something he wanted cultivated in you."

"How do you know all this?" Mulder asked, starting the car. "Have you two been having long heart to hearts about me?"

"We've discussed you once or twice," Scully conceded. "But not since you got married. That wouldn't be right."

"Oh, no," Mulder agreed mockingly.

"Have you...have you ever discussed me?"

"All the time," Mulder assured her. "He knows how I feel about you. He even asked me once what I would do if you came and told me you cared for me."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you and I would be out spending his insurance so fast, he'd never know what hit him," Mulder said seriously.

"Mulder, that's sick!" Scully looked genuinely horrified.

"I know." Mulder was chuckling. "Actually, I told him that I would give you my regrets, because that's what would happen. But, I swear, if he doesn't stop going off on these tangents about knowing what's best for me..." Mulder realized his voice was rising, and he fell silent.

"Mulder?" Scully asked a million questions in that word.

Mulder answered with a jerk. "We've been married … what … four and a half months. We've had two sustained periods of abstinence because he thinks I'm so damn fragile I'll break under his fingers."

Scully was intrigued but repulsed. Mulder could see it in her eyes. He softened his voice even more. "Either he thinks I'm a complete basket case, or he and Sharon had some serious problems early on in their marriage."

"Mulder, you shouldn't be telling me this stuff," Scully scolded softly. "He's my boss." She glanced down at her fingers. "Have you discussed any of this with Sharon?"

"No, but that's a good idea. You know, it's an interesting dynamic we've got going here," he said, and his grin was devilish. "It's not often you have an ex-wife who wants to sleep with her replacement."

"You're joking!" It was a command, not a question. Mulder shook his head. "I wish I was. She treats me like you do, only on major hormones. She's always touching me, patting me, calling me -"

"Sweetie," Scully put in, unable to help herself.

"Pain, Scully. You're going to experience a great deal of pain."

Scully was still smiling, but there was a worried knot in her brow. "What does Walt say?"

"He acts like he doesn't notice it, which is also very weird, because he is the singularly most possessive creature I have ever encountered, including myself."

"Well, he knows her better than you do," Scully pointed out. "Maybe he knows something about her modus that convinces him he has nothing to worry about."

"Sure," Mulder said doubtfully. "That's it." He rolled into the parking lot. "Here we are, Mom."

She smiled demurely. "Are you sure you want to -"

"Are you kidding? The first baby pictures?" He pushed himself out of the car and came around the corner to her. "I can't wait."

When Mulder was led into the exam room, he almost backed out again. Scully was laying on the exam table, in a gown that was pushed up to her breasts, with a sheet lying over her hips and legs, exposing her stomach down to a point where it was obvious she was not a natural redhead. The nurse was spreading a clear gel on the tiniest hint of roundness in her middle. Embarrassed, Mulder took his stool and twisted to look up at Scully's face.

"Come on, Daddy," the nurse chided. "You can't see from there." She turned on a monitor and started moving an object that looked like an old-fashioned electric shaver over the goo. "Ah, there we go," she said, finally, pleased.

"Where?" Mulder stood up, trying to ignore Scully, and studied the monitor. To him it looked like the face of the moon, on acid.

"There." The nurse indicated a dark blob in the middle of a pulsating sea of blobbiness. "That's the head …" She made a circle with her fingertip. "And that's an arm. You see?" She smiled encouragingly at Scully, who was staring intently at the screen. "There, you see? It moved."

Mulder felt something in him move. Inside that tiny little swelling of Scully's belly was a baby - his own, living, breathing child. He blinked away tears, quickly, feeling Scully's fingers grope for his. "It's too early to tell … you know … what it is, isn't it?"

"It doesn't even know what it is yet," the nurse said with a smile. "But there's only one, and it appears to have everything it's suppose to have at this point. That's very good." She looked at Scully, encouraging. "Would you like a picture?"

Scully nodded, her big blue eyes as wet as the sea. "How about you, Daddy?"

It took Mulder a moment to focus on the fact that she was talking to him, that it was the second time someone had acknowledged him as a father. "Um...sure, absolutely."

The nurse pushed a button, causing the image to freeze on the monitor, and then offered Scully some tissues. "Get yourself cleaned up and get dressed. I'll be right back."

Mulder looked down at Scully. "Wow."

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Mulder leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Scully's brow. "Absolutely amazing," he agreed, deeply moved.

Scully sighed, in contentment, not irritation. "You're not going soft on me, are you, Mulder?"

"As a baby's butt," Mulder assured her.

Scully turned her head to look at the picture again. "Are you sure he's going to be okay with this?"

Mulder straightened, backed away, keeping his eyes on hers. "I told you, Scully, he's got this paternal streak a mile wide. He's always threatening to spank me."

Scully's mouth drew up as if fighting off a smile. "I've always felt you needed a spanking."

"Really?" Mulder grinned. "From you it might be kind of fun."

"Please, Mulder," she scolded, but good-naturedly. "Not in front of the baby."

***************************************

Skinner sat at the head of his conference table, tired, frustrated and a little hurt. He had just assumed that Mulder would say something, make some comment or give some indication this morning, but he barely even got the guy to acknowledge that there was a sun out before he had to leave. There hadn't been anything in the interoffice mail, nothing on his desk, not even a phone call. The only one who had said anything was ever faithful Kim, who invited him out to lunch and gave him her usual, sweet card. But not a word - not a peep from Mulder. When he finally gave in and got Kim to call down to the basement at two o'clock, Mulder's voice mail said they were both at a crime scene, and might not be back that night.

And now he had to deal with an impromptu strategy meeting with six other A.D.s and the D.D. Ashcroft was being extraordinarily amenable, but some of the others, including Winston, from Identifications (who once suggested that Mulder get thrown out on his ass, preferably from the roof) were there, sneering and chuckling every time Skinner looked their way. He was starting to lose his temper.

Hadley, from Forensics, was complaining about having to take Mulder's lead in a recent case. The fact that Mulder was right, and Forensics had missed significant information seemed to be beside the point. They resented taking orders from Mulder.

"You're complaining to the wrong man," Winston said, only slightly sneering the word man. "Mulder's his little love bunny, so he won't censure him."

Skinner drew a deep breath. "Has Mulder failed to follow procedure in these matters?" he asked, with an effort to remain calm.

"No, but he's not the department head -"

"He was assigned to lead up the investigation, wasn't he?" Skinner persisted. "Did he miss something? Did he not bring the case to a conclusion? Come on, Hadley, give me something besides the fact that he irritated you. Mulder's not a politician, he's an investigator."

"Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Winston whispered loudly.

Skinner's dark glare zeroed in on him. "That's enough. If you have a problem with Mulder's work ethic, or his solve rate, fine. If you have a problem with his personal life, let's step outside."

"That won't be necessary, Walter," Ashcroft murmured, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. "David is going to take a little trip to the seventh floor this afternoon. He's going to explore the causes for his deep-seated homophobia."

The A.D. from ID went dark red. The A.D. from Forensics slumped in his chair, hoping to escape the D.D.'s eye. "Agent Mulder and Assistant Director Skinner have proven successfully for over a year that they can keep their private and professional lives separate. I wish I could say the same for the A.D.s who are having illicit relationships with their secretaries, or other female staff." Ashcroft's eyes went back to Skinner. "You were saying …" Well, Happy Birthday, Walter.

When Skinner pulled into the driveway that night, he was completely miserable. Last year on his birthday, he had the fear of losing Mulder to focus on. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him until the next day that it was his birthday. But this year, he thought surely Mulder would do something. He had remembered the second milestone of their weird relationship last week, just a casual remark about it being a year since they went up to Katonah together. He even mentioned that they ought to do it again, if they thought they could go without Kyle inviting himself along. But today … nothing.

There was a birthday card from his mom and Chris in the mail, as well as one from Sharon. There was even one from Scully. The house was dark and empty. The machines were both empty. The refrigerator was even empty. Happy Birthday, Walter, he thought bitterly. The only bright spot was the thought of David Winston having to see one of the shrinks on the seventh floor.

He sat down in the living room, kicked his shoes off, loosened his tie, turned on CNN and opened his birthday cards. They were all very nice, and it felt good to know that so many people thought of him at this time of his life. But why couldn't that little punk do one thing, make one insipid gesture - he shut his thoughts off because he thought he heard the car swing into the driveway. He got up and put the mail on the table, and poured himself a scotch, and fixed his attention on the television, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

He heard Mulder come in the back door. As was his wont, he went through the kitchen, checking the fridge. Won't he be disappointed? Skinner thought grimly. Then he came through the dining room and into the living room. He looked down at Skinner. "You're home early for a Thursday," he observed. "Any mail?"

Skinner nodded toward the table, his eyes riveted on the television.

Mulder flipped through things. "Oh, jeesh, Kat, it's your birthday," he groaned. He turned and looked at Skinner, stricken. "And all I did was bring home barbecue and a cake." He grinned. "Wanna' eat upstairs, in the tub?"

Skinner suddenly felt like he was fourteen and getting everything he asked for Christmas. He grinned back. "Yeah. Sounds good."

Mulder came across the floor and kissed him. "Thought I forgot, huh?" he teased. "Go upstairs and start the tub. I'll be right up." He started for the kitchen. "Hey, move the television around to the door. I brought home a John Wayne I haven't seen." He held up a video.

Skinner was already in the tub, leaning back, letting the jets ease all his tension away when Mulder came in, a tray in his hands. He had another scotch for Skinner, a glass of wine for himself, a bucket of ribs from this little hole in the wall joint they had discovered and loved, and a John Wayne movie. "Happy birthday, Kat," he said, setting the tray on the floor before he stepped in.

"Oh, it has been," Skinner agreed, reaching for his glass. He saluted Mulder and sipped. "I wish you could have been in the Departmental meeting today. Guess who Ashcroft sent to the seventh floor to explore his deep-seated homophobia?"

Mulder's eyes widened, gleefully. "Who?"

"Winston, from ID."

"What did he say?"

"What didn't he say? He accused me of letting you get away with murder because you were my...what did he call it...love bunny."

"Bastard," Mulder said, not smiling.

"Ashcroft didn't care for it, either." Skinner sipped. "And Hadley, from Forensics is just one step behind him."

"Now there's someone who needs to have some deep-seated phobias looked at," Mulder agreed. He pulled a rib, dripping with sauce, from the bucket. "How was your lunch?"

"How did you know I went to lunch?" Skinner asked suspiciously.

Mulder shrugged. "Because Kim asked me if it was okay to ask you out," he explained. "There is a girl who is seriously considering a menage a trois with her boss and his love bunny."

"Stop it," Skinner scolded, licking sauce from his fingertips. "Kim has been nothing but -"

"She's got the hots for you, and you know it. She doesn't think I'm all that bad, either." Mulder pointed a well-gnawed rib at him. "If she makes a play for either one of us, she thinks she's got the best of both worlds."

"I don't want to hear talk like that."

"Okay, I'll tell Scully to keep her opinions to herself."

"What does Scully have to do with that?" Skinner asked.

"It's her theory." Mulder put the bone down and almost daintily selected another. "Of course, in Scully's world, she's only interested in me. I know better." He hummed a little.

"You two spend too much time down there. You're not getting enough oxygen."

Mulder shrugged. "That could account for it."

"So, tell me about this crime scene today," Skinner said.

"Don't you want to watch the movie?"

"That bad?"

"No." Mulder reached for the remote and started the movie. "It didn't exist. We sneaked out so I wouldn't have to face you until I got home. I knew you were having that meeting today, Kim told me. I figured you'd be spitting fire like the last time. I didn't want to be around you until you cooled off."

"I hope that time doesn't show up on your payroll account," Skinner said, warningly.

"It won't." Mulder made an irritated face. "I'll just use some of those twelve days of ETO you donated to me." He reached for another rib and looked at the television. "Watch your movie."

Skinner winced. He had let the A.D. come into the bedroom, something he tried so hard not to do. He hoped it wouldn't spoil Mulder's mood, because he was really planning on letting Mulder blow out the birthday candle.

It was hard to believe they had been married five months. So much had happened in that small amount of time. And there had been at least two times when he thought he had lost Mulder for good. Thank God he hadn't gone out searching any X-Files where someone took a shot at him.

He watched Mulder watch the movie, admiring his profile. He thought back to a trip to New York in early March. He had told Mulder he would be up in the evening, but he caught the next plane out of D.C., and spent most of the afternoon, in a big chair in the corner of the bookstore, reading his own autographed copy of the book, and watching Mulder interact with the customers. Mulder was a natural people person. It was too bad he couldn't play politics. Mulder could be charming and sweet and funny and very endearing when he tried. He had little old ladies wanting to mother him, and not so old ladies wanting to bed him. One old man, who had been on the force back in the fifties, wanted to argue with him, and Mulder was extremely patient and almost reverent about the old man's opinions and experiences. He even tolerated a couple of openly gay men who tried to chat him up. (Mulder's expression, an idiom left over from his days at Oxford, no doubt.)

The book was amazing, too. Mulder presented a lot of the technical information in very easy terms, but there was nothing condescending about any of it. He told some very funny stories, and managed to mix just the right amount of pathos and humor into the most grisly events. His narrative style was very much the way he talked, however a good editor had obviously curtailed his rambling tendencies. But in Skinner's opinion, the most compelling thing he wrote was in his choppy longhand, in the front flyleaf of the copy on Skinner's bedstand: 'To the best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks for everything - Mulder'.

Halfway through the movie, Mulder turned, catching Skinner's observations. He blushed slightly. "What are you looking at?"

Skinner nudged him with his knee. "You. I was just thinking how lucky I was to have you. This has been a very satisfying birthday."

"Satisfying?" Mulder's brow rose indignantly. "What have you been doing over there while I was watching the movie?"

"Oh, I'm just anticipating opening my present," Skinner replied with a smile.

"Present? You think I bought you a present? You hated what I gave you for Christmas," Mulder reminded him.

"I did not hate it," Skinner protested. "I just don't have any place to put a stuffed flying saucer."

"I thought you could put it on the sofa in your office," Mulder pouted. "I could have gotten you socks."

"I liked what was under my tree better, thank you." Skinner reached for him, dragging him up against his chest. "Mmm, I love you."

"Actually, I do have a present for you," Mulder said, rubbing his stubble roughened cheek on Skinner's chest. "But, you have to get out of the tub for it."

"Are you sure I couldn't open it here?" Skinner teased, rubbing his hands down over Mulder's hips.

"I guarantee it," Mulder said, pulling away. "If you're through with John Wayne, we can get out and I'll give it to you."

"I like the sound of that," Skinner said, knowing he was fully erect, and knowing that Mulder knew it.

"Put that away, now," Mulder warned, climbing up out of the tub and collecting the tray. "Here's a towel." He started to dry himself. "Get in bed. I'll bring it to you. Oh, and we have cake, too."

Skinner let the water drain, and got up, drying off thoroughly before he turned off the video and pushed the television back against the bedroom wall. Then, naked, he climbed up into the bed, and waited.

In a few moments, Mulder reappeared, also naked, carrying a small, chocolate cake, with pink rosettes and a single candle. "I couldn't find a cake with a Marine on it," he apologized. He held out two forks. "Let's not waste dishes."

Skinner laughed and blew out the candle. "Did someone mention a present?"

"Greedy." Mulder went to his closet, reached up to the highest shelf, and brought down a beautifully wrapped box. "Here you go." He folded his legs up under him as he eased down on the side of the bed.

Skinner eased the ribbons away and undid the black and brown paper carefully. Then he pushed aside tissue paper to reveal … a tee shirt. Unfolding it, he read it, frowned, and read it again. "Future site of the world's greatest dad? Mulder, what is this?"

"It's part one of your birthday present," Mulder said, and offered him a card. "Part two."

He opened it, and a black and white photo of something he couldn't recognize fell out. He held it up. "What's this?"

"That's an ultrasound."

"Yes, I realize that. Of what?"

"Our baby," Mulder said, with quiet satisfaction.

Skinner felt as if he was on a roller coaster, in the dark. "What baby?"

"Ours."

Skinner actually dipped his glance to Mulder's flat stomach. "You're having a baby?"

"Not me," Mulder said impatiently. "That would be an X-File. Scully is pregnant. I'm the father." He smiled. "It's our baby."

"Scully? I thought...how did she...Mulder, what did you do?" Skinner felt like he hit the bottom suddenly.

Mulder made a face. "Not what you're thinking, I promise. Scully is pregnant via in vitro fertilization. She got a donor egg and I provided the sperm. I am the baby's father." He gestured to include Skinner. "We're the baby's father. That's the deal. She wanted me - us, because she wanted the baby to have a father in his or her life. So, congratulations, Daddy."

Skinner sat back heavily. "I'm...stunned."

Mulder looked at him warily. "Is this a bad thing? I thought you wanted to talk about adoption. This is a child that we'll have a biological investment in."

"No, you're right. That's great." Skinner was too confused, too astonished to properly express himself. "When did this happen?"

"Back in March. She's thirteen and a half weeks along." Mulder stopped, gauging the effects of his words. "The baby's due in November."

Skinner closed his eyes, and let all the words rush over him again. Mulder and Scully. A baby. A child of Mulder's that he would get a chance to help raise. Mulder couldn't have given him a greater gift. He opened his eyes, saw tears in Mulder's eyes, felt them mirrored in his own. He reached out, caught Mulder by the nape of the neck and kissed him. "I don't think I've ever had a better birthday in my life."

Mulder smiled, shyly, with a hint of uncertainty. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? How could I be mad? We're going to be fathers. I'm...ecstatic."

"Well, that's how I thought you'd feel, but Scully was afraid you'd be upset." He pushed the cake toward Skinner. "Eat up, Dad."

Skinner picked up the ultrasound and looked at it. "Do we know what it is, yet?"

Mulder shook his head. "Scully doesn't want to know."

"And this was why she was going to the doctor at the beginning of the year?"

Mulder nodded again. "Do you want to call her and tell her it's all right?" he asked, reaching for the phone. "I know she'll be walking the floor until she hears that you didn't kill me."

"I don't want to call her." Skinner pushed the cake aside and climbed off the bed. "I want to see her. I want to tell her face to face what this means to me. Are you sure I'm part of the deal?"

Mulder nodded. "Oh, yeah. I made that clear at the beginning and she said that was what she wanted."

"Then let's go see her."

"Now?" Mulder looked nonplussed.

"Sure. You said she'd be walking the floor."

"Okay, sure. Let's go." Mulder backed off the bed, ignoring the cake sitting amid the rumpled bedclothes.

"Let's stop and get flowers," Skinner said, rushing into a pair of chinos.

"Okay, but not roses. Scully doesn't like roses," Mulder warned.

"Then I'll get roses for you," Skinner retorted. "I'll get her something else."

***************************************

They got her Casablanca and Stargazer lilies. And a huge, pink teddy bear with a big bow and pale blue eyes. And Skinner bought Mulder roses, too. Dark red ones. They drove to Annapolis, like maniacs, laughing almost all the way. Her light was on, and as Mulder predicted, they could see her, in blue jeans and a long sweatshirt, pacing in her living room, as they climbed the steps to her front door.

She opened it uncertainly, and looked up at Skinner, with wide, almost frightened blue eyes, not seeing the teddy bear, not smelling the flowers. Skinner pushed his way through the door and gathered the small woman up in a giant bear hug. "Thank you, Dana," he whispered over and over again, into her hair. "Thank you."

"Then it's okay?" she sobbed, clinging to him. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? I could kiss you. I will." He did. "I can't believe you're letting me be a part of this. It's incredible." He lowered her, with infinite care, to the floor. "Unbelievable. Oh." Suddenly feeling awkward, he thrust the flowers at her. "These are for you. So is this. Mulder, give her the bear."

Mulder grinned and brought the bear to her. "Do I get a kiss? I'm only the father."

Scully lifted her cheek, but Mulder bent and kissed her on the lips. "That's better."

"So, how long can you work?" Skinner asked, a few minutes later, as Scully brought them both a cup of coffee.

"Oh, Dr. Hanson says I can work right up until October," she promised. "He says everything seems to be going very well." She flicked a glance at Mulder. "Good genes, I suppose."

Skinner glanced at Mulder, too. "I suppose."

Mulder jerked his eyes away. "You two can stop that, now."

Skinner looked back at Scully, and prepared, awkwardly, to ask her something delicate. "I know these procedures are expensive, Dana. I want to -"

"Don't." Scully put a hand on his arm. "It's very sweet of you to offer, Walt. But everything's taken care of."

"No, I want to contribute to this too. Mulder got to contribute. Let me do something. All I've got is money -"

"Oh, no, you've got more than that," Scully said gently. "You've got strength and loyalty and a good sense of right and wrong. That's what I want you to contribute."

"You can say that to me, after I married another man, in the Church?" Skinner said, only slightly amused.

Scully nodded. "You love him. I know you do. You love him more than anyone ever has, even his parents. Even me. That's proof enough for me."

"I still want to be part of this, somehow. Let me help pay for the procedures."

"Oh, Walt," Scully sighed.

Mulder put a hand on his shoulder. "It's taken care of, Kat. You just be there to hold her other hand when this kid gets here. She'll break my arms off if I have to do it all myself."

It took Skinner a moment to realize that Mulder was telling him two things; that Mulder had paid for all or part of the procedure, and that Scully wanted him to be there when the baby was born. He sat back in his chair, smiling softly. He would pay Mulder back for part of it. And he'd be very persuasive so Mulder couldn't refuse. "When does this become public knowledge?" he asked.

"Well, we won't be able to hide it much longer," Scully admitted shyly. "I'm afraid that a lot of people are going to know it's Mulder's, because we've always worked so closely. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Skinner shook his head. "How could it be a bigger problem than what people are saying about us, now?"

"Remind me to tell you what Ashcroft did to Winston," Mulder put in gleefully.

"I just want to know when I can tell my mother. This is going to make her very happy."

"Oh, tell her any time you want," Scully said. "My mom and my brothers already know."

"Do they know about …" Skinner paused.

"Who the father is? Oh, absolutely. We discussed this at length before we started anything. You can tell Sharon, too, if you want."

Skinner looked across the table at Mulder. "What about your mom?"

Mulder looked faintly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure when or if I'm telling her," he confessed. "That's sort of open to debate right now. She doesn't know about us, either, you know."

"Well, we'll work all that out when the time comes." Skinner emptied his cup. "It's a long drive home, and we've all got to be at work in the morning. But I had to come and thank you in person. You two have given me the best birthday present I've ever had." He patted Scully's shoulder lightly, and gestured to Mulder to come along.

"Night, partner," Mulder said, pressing a kiss to Scully's brow. "See? I told you it would be all right."

- END part 7 of 13 -
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