Title: "Payback"

Author: Angela W.

Category: Alternative Universe (MSR, Missy Scully/Agent Pendrell Romance and Mulder/Pendrell friendship)

Rating: R

Summary: Mulder inadverdently hears more than he wants to of another couple's intimate activities. Then he goes home to Scully. Told in first person, Mulder's POV.

Timeline/Spoilers/Notes: This is a part of a group of vaguely interconnected, alternative universe stories in which the X-Files were never reopened after they were shutdown at the end of season one. Thus, anything that happened in season two and beyond never occurred. Although Mulder and
Scully are married in this story, it's not part of my regular "married' series (the ones where they got married in Las Vegas). This is kinda/sorta a sequel to another fanfic in that series called "Declarations".

Feedback: If it's nice or contains *constructive* criticism, feedback is valued.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They are the property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.

Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.



Payback
by Angela W.
***

I switch the papers I'm holding from one hand to the other and pound on Pendrell's door again. I know he's here, I saw his car in the parking lot; must be in the shower or something.

Scully was right when she said I was spoiled by having my own in-house scientist-cum-patholigist around. Ever since she's been on maternity leave with Emily, getting analyses and autopsies done has been a lot more difficult. It's not that I begrudge her the time with our newborn daughter, of course, it's just that I'm used to my requests taking priority over those of other agents. Pendrell, despite the fact that his engagement to Dana's sister makes us almost-in-laws, simply doesn't see it that way. Actually, getting autopsies done while I wait is not the thing I'm currently doing without from Scully that I miss the most, anyway, but that's another story.

I pound the door again, and it's finally yanked open. But instead of science geek FBI agent Sean Pendrell staring at me, it's my sister-in-law, Missy. Her hair is rumpled, her face is soft with sleep and she looks *amazingly* like my wife at this moment. I've never thought their resemblance was particularly strong before -- no more so than most sisters who are close in age -- but right now she could be Dana's twin .

"Fox? What are you doing here?" Missy asks.

I bite my tongue to keep from asking her the same question. What Missy is "doing here" is pretty damned obvious. She and Pendrell are engaged, for God's sake, with a wedding date set for only a couple of months from now. Despite the fact that they've been discrete and continue to maintain separate apartments, I'd assumed they'd already consummated their relationship.

Somehow, however, the stark reality that Missy slept with Pendrell last night -- certainly in the literal meaning of the words and most likely in their commonly used meaning as a euphemism for sexual intercourse, as well -- unnerves me. My emotions are a complicated mess. Part of it is a big-brotherly type protectiveness; I seem to have transferred the feelings I once had for Samantha to Missy and don't like the idea of any guy, even her acknowledged fiance, having sex with her outside of marriage. Part of is simply my continued amazement that Missy actually finds Pendrell attractive; Missy's not as beautiful as her little sister, but she's definitely a looker and I'd think she could have had her pick of several men a lot cooler than Pendrell. I mean, except maybe for Frohike, who *isn't* cooler than Pendrell? Part of it, I admit with rueful self-honesty, is simple jealousy; Pendrell probably got laid by a pretty redhead last night and it's been several months since I've had that pleasure.

"I need to talk to Pendrell before he heads into the lab. I've got something I need him to run for me," I finally answer, gesturing at the papers I'm holding.

"He worked 'til almost eleven last night," Missy points out. The obvious implication of her words is that I've got a helluva nerve showing up here at the crack of dawn, expecting him to put his shoulder back to the grindstone.

"This is an on-going case for the violent crime squad involving a serial killer, Missy. We're all putting in a lot of long hours. Go get Pendrell."

Missy nods and disappears in the direction of the bedroom. Either the walls in this apartment are paper thin or she doesn't close the bedroom door all the way, because I get an earful of the ensuing conversation.

"Sean? Wake up!"

"God, woman, don't you *ever* get enough?" Then there's some scuffling sounds, like he's pulling her down into bed with him.

"Mmm! No, Sean. Stop that!"

"I thought you *liked* when I did that?"

"I -- aaah! -- yeah, I do, but Fox is in the living room."

I'm beginning to have a newfound respect for Pendrell's sexual prowess. Whatever he's doing to Missy, it's causing her to emit the same sort of breathy little moaning sounds that Dana does when we make love. And, of course, thinking of the sounds my wife makes when we're in bed together is giving me a hard-on that is going to be embarassing to explain if it doesn't subside before Missy manages to convince Pendrell to get out of bed and come into the living room.

"There's a *fox* in the living room?" Pendrell says, sounding puzzled. "I doubt that, gorgeous. Probably just a mouse. I'll go get it in a minute. But as long as I'm up, first I wanna,"

"Not *a* fox," Missy begins and then makes a gurgling noise which I assume means Pendrell's stopped her from talking with a kiss.

Apparently the Scully sisters share a tendency to get distracted pretty damned quickly when the man they love wants to play. I'm either going to have to put an end to this now or stand here and listen while the two of them mess around. Now, I may have watched more than my fair share of skin flicks during my single days, but tricking my relatives and co-workers into unwitting performances of live sex shows for my aural enjoyment is beyond the pale even for me.

"Pendrell, I'm in the living room," I holler out. "I need to talk to you about the case we're working on. Quit trying to nail Missy's ass and get yourself out here!"

There is complete silence for a long moment, then Pendrell responds with "Shit!". I could have heard *that* even if I were still standing in the parking lot.

I hear water running and a toilet flushing, then Pendrell stomps out into the living room. He's shirtless, wearing sweat pants and with pale red beard stubble covering his cheeks.

"Coudn't this have waited a couple of hours?" he demands by way of greeting.

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," I reply. "And, no, it couldn't wait. I was called out to a crime scene a couple of hours ago. Eyeball this and see if you think it fits our killer''s MO; if you think it does, give the evidence top priority when it reaches the lab."

Pendrell skims over the report I hand him and I can practically see him change from disgruntled, sleepy guy to crime solving scientist. Despite my frequent jokes about Pendrell's social ineptitude, I've never had anything but respect for him as an agent. I place the same trust in his findings as I do in Scully's and that's the highest praise I'm capable of giving anyone.

"Yeah," Pendrell says. "It fits. How soon will your team be done processing the crime scene and have the evidence to Quantico?"

"Should be there by the time you can get dressed and get out there."

"Okay, I'm on it. Touch base with me about noon; I should have some preliminary findings by then."

"Thanks," I nod. "I'm going to head back to the scene, interview a possible witness." I debate briefly whether or not I should yell out "Bye, Missy", but decide not to. She hasn't made a reappearance since Pendrell entered the living room and maybe she's gone back to sleep. Or, more likely, she realizes I heard what they were doing in the bedroom and she's embarrassed.

***

Late that afternoon, I drop by to pick up the official report from Pendrell's lab. I feel like we finally have a handle on this case and are making some progress.

I also had a phone call from a certain angry redhead who informed me in no uncertain terms that I owed her sister -- and said sister's fiance -- an apology. I'm a little unclear as to exactly why the fiasco at Pendrell's apartment this morning was my fault, but I've learned that a smart man doesn't argue with a new mother in the midst of a full-blown mood swing. I promised her I'd apologize and I'd never do anything to betray Dana's trust in me. I called Missy and she accepted my apology with a laugh, her embarrasment obviously over. Apologizing to Pendrell is going to be harder, both because I have to do it face-to-face and because it's always harder to ask forgiveness from another man.

"Hey, Pendrell," I say as I walk in.

"Hey, Mulder. Got the results for you right here."

"Thanks. Um. . . .look, if I embarrassed you and Missy this morning, I'm sorry."

Pendrell glances up from his microscope, looking surprised. "I was about to tell you the same thing. You probably heard more than you wanted to. I tend to not process stuff real well when I first wake up and didn't realize you were there."

"No problem"

Having done the male equivalent of baring the depths of our souls to each other, Pendrell and I separate.

***

It's late when I get home that evening and Dana is already in bed, but I sense she wants to talk. We're thrilled with our daughter, but we conceived her on our honeymoon and I think we're both a little bewildered by the speed with which we went from two single adults in separate apartments to a family of three living in a suburban split level. I kick off my shoes and sit down beside her on the bed.

"So. . .Missy said you dropped by Pendrell's place early this morning?''

"Yes, Dana. And, before you ask: yes, I apologized to both of them for my remark about him trying to nail her ass. But I'm not really sure why I'm the one who had to apologize; Missy was the one who was in complete possession of all the facts; including, presumably, whether or not Pendrell ends to wake up in an amorous mood."

"What, exactly, were they doing before Pendrell realized you were in the living room?"

I shrug. "Kissing. Pillow talk. That sort of thing."

"And you listened?"

"Not intentionally. It's a small apartment and either the walls are like tissue paper or Missy inadverdently left the door partially open."

"So," Scully continues, "knowing your premarital penchant for those videos that didn't belong to you. . .did listening to Missy and Pendrell get physical turn you on?"

Shit!! This is basically an update of the "Do you think my sister's sexy?" question that no man in the world can ever give the right answer to. If I say "Yes," she'll probably burst into tears and accuse me of thinking her sister is sexier than she is -- which I don't, not by a long shot -- and also of being a pervert. If I say "No", she'll probably burst into tears and accuse me of not being turned on by petite redheads and fantasizing about Amazon-sized brunettes or something. Either way, I'll probably end up sleeping on the couch, so I might as well do my time for the crime I actually committed. Still, I try to weasel out of it.

"Dana, do we really have to talk about this?"

"I'm your wife, Fox. Don't I have the right to know what turns you on?"

"Well, yeah, of course you do."

"So. . . .?"

"Sort of, I guess," I mumble. "But only because she sounds like you."

"Missy and I do sound alike," she agrees, "when we were teenagers, our friends could never tell us apart on the phone."

"I don't mean that. When you're *talking* your voices sound different; or at least I can easily tell them apart. But she was just making this breathy little moaning sound and it was exactly like the sound you make when I first start touching you and. . ..yes, it turned me on to hear it."

"Guess it's been a while since you heard me make that sound up close and personal, huh?" Dana asks gently.

"Yeah," I agree.

"Want to know what I did today, while you were one room away from engaging in a menage e trois with my sister and my lab partner?"

"For God's sake, Dana, it's not like was about to go in there and jump in bed with the two of them!"

"Fox, calm down. I'm *teasing* you, honey."

I take a deep breath. We seem to have neatly skirted some dangerous ground here and I don't want to screw things up at this point. "Sorry. Of course I want to know how your day went. Anything special happen with you or Emily?"

"I went to the doctor for my postpartum check-up."

"Everything's okay?"

"Everything's more than just 'okay', Fox. The doctor said that as long as we take things slow, and don't try anything too exotic for the next couple of weeks, we can resume lovemaking."

I'm supposed to be beyond the age of going from zero to sixty at warp speed, but that's what happens as soon as those words are out of Dana's mouth. I'm instantly hard as a rock and at full mast. "Now?' I manage to croak.

"Now would be nice," Scully suggests, "but we can wait 'til tomorrow night if you're too tired."

Too tired? For sex with Scully? Not in this lifetime. I stand up and immediately tear off my clothes. I then lift up the covers and scoot in next to my wife, who's wearing a soft, baby blue nightgown. It's not quite a negilgee, but it's definitely inviting.

"Can I take this off?" I ask fingering a strap.

"Mmmhmm."

Scully's nightgown soon joins my clothes in a pile on the floor. We kiss long and deep. Of course, we kiss frequently, but during the past couple of months I've been well aware that it wasn't going to lead anywhere and I've tried to control my response. Tonight, however, I fully savor and enjoy having her tongue in my mouth and slipping mine into hers.

"Mulder, is it okay if. . .I mean. . there's a certain order I think might be. . .easiest. . .for tonight."

"Whatever you want sweetheart. We'll take things as fast or as slow as you want and as far as you want to go. If we need to quit at any point -- because it's hurting you or because Emily wakes up or anything -- that's okay."

"My doctor said that I might need some extra lubrication; that most nursing mothers do. I bought something just in case, but I'd really rather have you use your mouth. Do you mind?"

Do I *mind* going down on my wife? I know a lot of men don't really like performing oral sex, but I happen to enjoy it. And, if the ecsatic moans Scully makes as she climaxes are any indication, I'm good at it. I kiss her once more on the mouth, then begin to work my way down.

I'm tempted to nuzzle her breasts, fuller now than they were even during pregnancy, but avoid them. Emily gives them quite a workout and, for the moment, they're not my playthings. I just blaze a trail between them and down her belly. It's softer now than it was in her pre-pregnancy days, but no less alluring. Then I dive between her legs and begin to slowly eat at her.

It takes a while, but eventually I achieve my goal. Scully gasps and convulses around my tongue. When I crawl back up her body, I notice that her breasts are dripping milk.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "The doctor warned me about that, too. When a nursing mother climaxes she tends to squirt out a bit."

"No problem," I reply, reaching down and grabbing my shirt to wipe her off. "Are you ready for me to go ahead?"

"Yeah. I'm a little nervous," she says shyly.

"Me too," I admit. "I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Just let me know, okay sweetheart?"

She nods and I begin to penetrate her. I try to go slowly but some sort of movement of her body -- I'm not sure if she does it on purpose or if it's an involuntary final spasm of her orgasm -- pulls me completely and deeply in. Wow! If she's not as tight as she was before, the difference is so miniscule as to be unnoticeable. What *is* noticeable is that the texture within her has varied considerably. Before, her internal muscles were slick; now they seem to be ridged.

I pull back out slighly and push back into to feel the delightful rippling against my cock again. And I come. Immediately. No warning, no build-up like their usually is. Just me emptying out a three-months supply inside of my wife.

When I finally stop seeing stars, I pull out and snuggle Scully close. "Sorry 'bout that. As you well know, I'm not usually trigger happy. But it had been awhile."

Scully places her fingers gently on my lips. "Hush, Fox. There's nothing to apologize for. I already came, remember?"

"It would have been hard not to notice, Dana."

"And it did hurt just a little, so I'm actually glad you came so quickly."

At that moment, Emily begins to cry. "I'll go get her," I say to Dana, easing out of bed.

"You've got good timing, sweetheart," I murmur to Emily as I change her diaper prior to bringing her to Dana. "You let Mommy and Daddy have some fun before you needed us."

***

The next morning, Pendrell and I are in Assistant Director Skinner's office to explain our findings. As we sit down, but before he gets off the phone and turns his attention to us, I'm reminded of all the times Scully and I sat together in this office. That triggers a memory of last night and, before I can stop it, a grin spreads across my face.

"Do you find something amusing about this case, Agent Mulder?" Skinner barks out.

"Of course not, sir. I was just. . .thinking of my daughter," I improvise quickly. A little white lie, since it's actually my daughter's mother who brought such a smile to my face.

"We realize you're a new father and we're all very happy for you, but let's concentrate on the business at hand, shall we?" Skinner suggests.

Several minutes later, after we've made our report and are walking down the corridor together, Pendrell says quietly, "You know, Mulder, you could just hang a sign around you neck saying 'I got laid last night'. It would only be *slightly* less obvious than the grin you were wearing when we were supposed to be discussing the case with Skinner."

It takes me a moment to realize why the words sound so familiar; they're basically the same ones I said to him the morning after he and Missy got engaged.

Since Pendrell is using a variation of my words, I've got no choice but to use a slightly different version of his response. "Shut up, Pendrell".

He chuckles and wanders off toward Quantico.

As I try to go about my work, I find my thoughts keep drifting back to my family. Not just Dana and Emily, but Maggie and Missy, too. And, strangely enough, Pendrell. As a kid, I always wanted a brother. When Dana and I got married, I thought maybe her brothers would want to be chummy with me, but -- while they haven't been downright rude -- the two of them have made it clear that the Scully brothers are a closed fraternity and relatives by marriage need not apply for admission. Pendrell and I, on the other hand, are going to end up having a lot in common.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.




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