TITLE: When in Vegas
RATING: Explicit. No kiddies.
KEYWORDS: MSR, AU
SPOILERS: You need to be updated in the Spunk vocabulary to be able to enjoy this, as always. Especially the early chapters of them in Las Vegas for Scully's first spot in the Folies Bergere.
SUMMARY: For the Mulders, what does happen in Vegas?
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter owns their names. I give more credit to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, because they were the real inspirations behind this whole universe. But yeah, Jerry Jayson is mine, as are the four critters here!
A/N: I love this extension chapter – I feel like it's a return to the humor so evident in the initial chapters of Spunk! So I hope you have fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it. It may be my last extension chapter for Spunk, since I have to wear my professional writing hat for the next couple of months, but who knows in the near future, right? wink, wink. Get ready for a roller coaster ride with this one, by the way! Enjoy!
#408
Deluxe Suite
Four Queens Hotel
Las Vegas, Nevada
2 March 1995
Thursday
Dana Katherine Scully choked back a heavy sigh as she sat down the toilet, emptied her bladder, and stood up. However, before she flushed, she stared at the swirl of water for one last time - one last confirmation - before finally pressing the button to get rid of the evidence that was about to slap her face.
Wow, she ruefully thought, what a perfect thirtieth birthday present.
Grabbing a tampon from her toiletry kit, she went through the familiar routine as quickly as she could, lest a certain someone noticed that she wasn't in bed …
"Scully?" came a throaty cry from the other end of the door, "Darling?"
She hurried up her movements: selecting clean underwear from her kit, sorting through her husband's discarded shirts to find one clean enough to still be worn, and staring at herself in the mirror for a heartbeat. Her hair was frazzled, the wavy red locks piled atop her head in a messy bun, and her lips swollen from the languid kisses she shared with Mulder after making love last night. But her eyes … she was thankful that it was only three o'clock in the morning and there was no way for him to see the world in her eyes. It was apparent that she was carrying the rest of its weight within.
After one last deep breath, she opened the door and padded into the bedroom, where she could see Mulder's tense outline as he waited for her in the dark.
"What time is it?" he murmured, his body relaxing. He rubbed his face into the pillow as he moved to give her space to join him. Scully sat beside his warm body and hesitated before lying down.
"Half past three in the morning." She finally relented and lifted the covers, feeling the chill of the air-conditioning on the topmost silk. Mulder immediately opened his arms up to her, drawing her in, and even if she was reluctant to sink into his embrace, the bed tipped over to his weight and she instinctively molded her back to his front.
"So early, baby," he cooed in her ear, reaching up to tuck a wild strand of hair behind her lobe. His one arm was used as her pillow, while the other skirted up and around her waist, where he felt what she was wearing. "Why'd you have to wear this?" he chuckled.
"I was cold," Scully admitted. They both loved sleeping naked, except when the kids were around. Here in Vegas, without the children, she purposely didn't bring any pyjamas or even lingerie. They both agreed they'd enjoy sleeping in the buff because with four kids running around at home, it was a luxury that they rarely had.
"Well, naked or not, you sure feel sexy in my shirt …" he trailed off, and before Scully could stop him, his hand was already cupping a breast. He expertly twirled her nipple with his fingers, pebbling it to a hardened peak, while the other twin strained to be touched. Mulder's hot lips parted at the back of her neck, his tongue tracing the bones jutting out there in a seductive, wet trail.
Traitor, Scully scolded her body, not really in the mood for anything naughty in the early morning. Eight years of marriage and she still sometimes couldn't fathom where he unearthed his insatiable sexual appetite. When he reasoned out that before her he was practically celibate for close to a decade, it shed some light on things. Not that she minded most of the time, of course … she was just as incorrigible as he was. Add to the fact that she knew that he reacted this way to her, and only her …
"Mulder, " she whispered, pulling his hand away from her breasts and settling it on her lips for a kiss. "Not now."
"Why not?" His lips on her back didn't stop; each lick sending electrifying shivers through her nerves.
"I got my period."
His lips and hand stilled for a second. A deathly silence blanketed the whole room.
Then, just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he flipped her onto her back and to her side so that they were face-to-face. He wasted no time as his lips met hers for a gentle, heartbreaking kiss.
"I'm so sorry, Scully," he said against her lips. She only could nod, letting him kiss her and wanting to feel his arms all around her body – her haven, her shelter against the raging tempest, her Superman, her life.
Her life. Scully bit back a sob.
"What are we doing here, Mulder?" she softly demanded, pieces of her heart falling to the floor like dead leaves from a tree.
"What do you mean?" he asked, as gingerly as he could.
"What are we doing here in Vegas? We've been here for two weeks already … I've had my birthday here and, and … what are we waiting for? Are we really staying here for another two weeks? I want to go home."
Mulder breathed in, and was careful to not breathe out heavily lest she mistake this for exasperation. He then pushed her head towards his lips so that he could place tiny grazes on her hairline.
"Scully, you have three more performance nights for the Folies Bergere. Jerry Jayson will be sourly disappointed if you don't finish your performances this year. He already missed you when you weren't able to perform due to your pregnancies." Mulder caressed the back of her neck, and it somewhat relaxed her. "You're the main reason why those last three nights are all sold out, baby. We can't disappoint those people."
"So we risk disappointing ourselves?"
Mulder shook his head, the rustle of his hair on the pillow echoing in the silence. "It's not that … it's being professional. It's what you signed up for. I'm here with you. I know you miss the children, but they're in good hands and we can talk to them whenever we want."
The children. Scully stopped fighting the cry that was welling up in her throat. Finally, a tear fell and it fell, of all places, on Mulder's hand that was cradling her face. "Oh, chéri …" he soughed when he felt the wetness, lifting a thumb up to wipe away the rest that followed underneath her eyes. "I'm so sorry about your period. I'm disappointed too. We've been trying for months now … and maybe, maybe we should give it a break."
"What break?" Scully demanded, her shoulders tensing.
"Scully, I mean, look at what this is doing to you, to us. You're stressed, I'm stressed … maybe we're just trying too hard. Maybe we should just let the baby come."
"But our schedules … it's either within the first-half of the year or not!"
"It's not as if we're not doing anything about it." In the dark, she could see his half-hearted smile, but it was of little consolation to the rage that was brewing inside her. "Why don't we just let it happen and not make … making love like a nightly appointment? It was fun when John came, wasn't it?"
She ignored his question. "So what? We should just stop this? Fuck up all our plans?"
"Scully," his voice lowered, "you know that's not what I meant."
She was about to explode – she felt it in her. The rage was so overpowering she could hold it in her two hands. Her therapist had reminded her of her short temper, of her "Spunk" as so many of their friends had nicknamed her with, and if there was one thing she learned from all the hours she spent healing the wounds of the past, it was to never let her rage drive her responses - especially to her husband.
"Mulder …" she resigned, turning around and moving away from him on the bed. "I'm tired. Let's just sleep on this and maybe we can talk about this tomorrow."
There was an audible pause before he answered, "Okay. You sleep well," he replied. She could also feel the strain in his movements, as he turned around and moved away from her on the bed. This was also the result of their collective therapy: Mulder finally learned how to quit, sometimes. Though he only quit when it came to certain aspects of their relationship. He was still as bullheaded as ever in Hollywood and in everything else.
Soon, she drifted off into a fitful slumber. Scully dreamt of trying to reach for a lily in the middle of a pond back in Wales. However, she overstepped her balance and she fell into the cold water. She stretched up, kicked her limbs, knowing that she could swim, but the water was like a black hole that ate her up whole.
"It surprises me how you have maintained your weight despite all the babies you've had."
"It still surprises me, Jerry, why you ONLY can find time to visit me whenever my show's about to end," Scully wiped her forehead with the towel she had draped on the railings of the barre. Without looking at the flamboyant man whose steps were clicking closer and closer to where she was practicing her dance, she stretched her arms above her and sucked in her core as she bent her body backwards so that she could reach the floor with her hands. Then gingerly, she rested her body weight on her hands and elbows so that she could lift her legs high above her, as if an invisible string was pulling her from her toes – a perfect handstand.
Close to where she was, Jerry Jayson, the now-director of the Folies Bergere, clapped. "Four kids and you still do that pose better than anyone else!" he complimented. Scully sneered, feeling all the blood rush to her head but maintaining her posture. Carefully, she lowered her feet to her front, as stealth as a cat dropping from a rooftop; after, she lifted her torso and head until she was standing up.
"Ta-dah," she murmured, winking at Jerry. Hopping back to the barre to get her towel, she wiped her exposed midriff and raised an eyebrow at Jerry's outfit: neon pink leggings and a metallic oversized shirt. Topping this ensemble off was some very expensive Gucci sunglasses.
"The eighties called, Jerry. They want your outfit back," Scully joked, making the director laugh. She wiped the sweat off her face and leaned over to give him kisses on both cheeks. "I would hug you, my love, but I'm too sweaty because of the choreography you've made me do," she mock complained, pouting her lower lip out.
"You dance it anyway, with no complaints. Marriage has made you a softie, my beauty," Jerry placed an arm around her as they walked out of the studio. Dancers who were practicing on their own waved at them, and they waved back. Mostly, they left Scully to her own devices when she practiced her number in the studio, but all bets were off when she took her break: she'd be surrounded by girls who idolized her work for Danced Yesterday ("it was my inspiration to join the Folies, Ms. Dana" or "when I watched you do that triple-flip in the movie's EXPLOSIVE final sequence, I knew I wanted to be a dancer, too!") and requests for photographs would follow. She didn't mind; actually, all the chaos was expected since it was the usual cycle whenever she returned to the Folies Bergere to dance her tenure. The novelty had worn off though (as it always eventually did) and now that she only had one big night on the itinerary, she was happy that most of the young dancers had left her to her medical journal or granola bar during breaks.
"I heard you were traveling, Jerry. I was beginning to think you were purposefully avoiding my show," Scully teased, hooking an arm around her friend's waist. As they exited the studio and the warm blast of air assaulted their bodies, Jerry pushed his sunglasses down his nose. He reached into his pocket and produced a shock-white Ray Ban for Scully, which she hesitantly wore. This is not really my style, she thought, but appreciated the gesture. Who knew where the paparazzi could be lingering, anyway?
"I was with my boyfriend in Europe. We originally wanted to go to Fiji, but the storms in the Pacific were too erratic and we decided to just enjoy the castles off the coast of Ireland."
"Always the adventurer, you lovesick fool." Scully leaned on a banister on the studio's patio, while Jerry flipped open his cigarette case. He didn't bother offering Scully a cigarette and puffed away as they talked. "When do you plan to go to Wales?"
"Would you let me go to Wales?" A thin pencil-drawn eyebrow was raised.
Scully laughed. "Of course! You can stay in our rest house near the Bay. I'll let my sister know if you want to." She sighed, placing a hand on her stomach. "Mulder and I are planning to visit, but plans are thwarted so we … I guess we need to stay in LA until …"
"Until what?"
A flush crept on her cheeks. Jerry had been a good friend of hers and a staunch supporter all throughout the years, especially when she publicly announced that she was battling her trauma through an interview with CNN after her wedding. The director was the first to send flowers to the Manor's doorstep – a dozen of yellow lilies – with a reminder to be nice to her doctors. Mulder chortled along with her when they remembered how Jerry was so frazzled when he brought her to the hospital years ago and she wouldn't calm down no matter what anyone did. It was only her husband who was able to pacify her.
However, the disagreement she had with Mulder was still fresh in her mind, despite it being almost two weeks ago. The morning after that night had been awkward - they both didn't speak much and had gone on their separate ways, with Scully back in the studio for way-too-diligent rehearsals and Mulder off to the gym for his workout. It was only at nights when they would sit down and talk to the children via the phone when they'd actually be together and find a semblance of parental front. After that, they went to bed naked but slept far from each other.
"Oooh," Jerry intimated, taking a long drag of his cigarette, "trouble in the Mulder paradise?" He crossed his legs and leaned forward. Scully chucked nervously.
"Mulder and I … we fight – sometimes loud and passionate, but there are fights when we're silent most of the time. It's as if we're not in the mood to talk to each other. These are the fights that scare me. We, we've had one recently. A week ago."
"What about, my beauty?"
"Another baby."
All pencil-thin eyebrows were raised. "Another?" Jerry squeaked.
"Hah," she blurted out, "this is your yearly warning, Jerry."
He placed a hand on his forehead in a dramatic fashion. "Oh lord, what will I do without THE Dana Katherine Scully selling out my spring shows for next year?" he said and Scully nudged his ankle with her sneakers.
"Shush, Jerry. That's the thing – we schedule this and all, you know, and he said it was putting pressure on us when we're trying to make a baby. Why not let it happen or something like that, he declared. I got angry, because our schedules are not easy to coordinate. We plan a year ahead and it has helped our marriage all these years. Now he wants to fuck that up because we'll just let the baby come -" Scully bit her lip, "so to speak."
"Sheesh," Jerry complained, "I'm glad I'm not in a monogamous coupling –"
"Okay, I don't want to hear about your sexcapades!" Scully shut her ears with her hands, but Jerry continued.
"Whatever, Virgin Scully. Anyway, your husband probably has a fantastic dick –"
"JERRY!"
"Hallelujah!" The director was unfazed by her complaints, tapping his finger on his stick to get rid of the ashes. "- because you've had four of these, these mini-Mulders already."
"Bloody fantastic dick," Scully muttered, keeping a smile to herself.
"But what I've always liked about Mulder is the way he thinks. He puts you first before anyone else. I saw that back in '85 when I first met you two. I saw that when he took care of you in the hospital. And I've seen him with your litter, Dana. He doesn't only put you first nowadays, but he also puts your children first. He comes from a good place, my beauty. When he says you guys should stop forcing a baby, maybe … he has a point." Jerry finished his cigarette and crushed its remaining embers on the elephant-shaped ashtray. "He comes from a good place, that stubborn husband of yours. He has a golden heart. You've lucked out," Jerry sighed, making Scully blush. Her friend stood up from his chair and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist to pull her closer to him so that they were nose-to-nose. "You've spent more than eight hours in the studio already, Dana. Go home and fuck your husband senseless. I know you have it in you."
She threw her head back and laughed out loud. After collecting herself, Scully placed small kiss on her friend's lips – one of the many intricacies of Hollywood that some people, especially the paparazzi, could never get. "Thank you, Jerry. I'd love to do that but we have a show tonight and I need to concentrate."
"You've done the show pregnant! What do you need to concentrate about?"
"John was one strong fetus," she countered, hugging her friend. She felt his arms around her shoulders before he drew her away.
"Let's go in and have some Brie cheese. The boyfriend brought it just for me. I'll share it with you because I like you so much," Jerry held her hand and pulled her towards the entrance of the studio. "Plus, at your six o'clock, your old friends the paps have returned."
"Which boyfriend?" Jerry was not able to answer or protest, because Scully was already rolling her eyes at a stray flash far behind her. "There you guys are. Just in time for the final show."
The make-up artist had left Scully's dressing room with a stern warning to not mess anything up since they still had two hours to go before the show started. Her face had dramatically transformed – her eyebrows properly shaped, lips plump and red, eyelids glittering violet, cheeks dusted with glitters that under the light shimmered a thousand prisms. Thick black lining around her almond-shaped eyes had accentuated the blue of her irises. After her first show, Mulder commented that her eyes remained vibrant all throughout her set despite the dark lighting. It was mesmerizing, he whispered in her ear as he spooned behind her in bed that evening.
Scully blinked a couple of times to keep her tears behind the makeup, catching the glitter of tiny diamonds that were attached to the fake eyelashes. Where the fuck was her husband? She called their hotel, but he wasn't there. She called Marita, his assistant, and she also didn't know where the fuck he was. In desperation, she even tried his gym – but he hadn't shown up the whole day.
Her desperation reached its peak when she entered her dressing room and scoured the deliveries of congratulations bouquets that were lined up along the couch – Doggetts, Skinner, Lone Glitter, WB, CGB, Melissa … but found none from her husband. After each show, there would be a bouquet of gorgeous white and yellow lilies from him, no matter how many times she had performed the same set. There were none tonight, of all fucking nights. Her sadness quickly sizzled into flaming rage that she gladly nurse with images of a satisfying shout-fest that night, if she did find him.
Grumbling, Scully stood up to change into her costume.
Thud.
She froze in her spot. What the fuck was that?
Thud.
Swirling around, she pinpointed the noise to be coming from her closet. The fine hair at the back of her neck stood up. Of all places for the noise to come from, why the closet? her mind reeled. Okay, Dana, be rational here, she argued with herself. Her costume was in there. Damn it. Why did Jerry allow just about anyone backstage, anyway? How could she get her costume now? Should she call a staff? What if there was a rat in there? Were there rats in Vegas? She knew there were rats in New York and had been face-to-face with one during a rainy movie premiere back then … Scully shuddered. Mulder was there to shoo that damn rat away.
Mulder wasn't here today.
Taking a deep breath, Scully convinced herself that she was a strong, independent woman. She could take whatever was in the closet. She could take it with … she glanced around her dressing room, until she caught sight of an umbrella, wait, not enough, there, a vase. Haphazardly, she hauled all the flowers that came with the white vase and squeezed it into the next bouquet. She raised it high above her head, securing it firmly in her right hand's grip, and with one huge breath, approached the closet.
Thud.
Bloody shit, Scully thought, her heart racing in her chest, one …
Thud.
Two …
Thud. Thud.
Fucking three!
The door swung open and in reflex, her hand swung at the figure she saw moving inside. Unfortunately, she miscalculated her aim and the vase hit the wall, splintering to a thousand pieces at her feet. Panicking, Scully moved backwards to find the umbrella, but was halted by a familiar, panicked voice:
"Scully! Scully! It's me! Damn, oww, it's me!"
She paused, a deadly relief washing over her like a tidal wave. The feeling was so strong she had to anchor herself on the boudoir, one hand settling on her chest to calm her heart down. When she was calm enough, she shouted all the rage she had been feeling just a minute ago:
"Mulder! What the fuck are you doing in there?"
There was her missing husband, standing up from the closet and steadying himself on the open door. He looked lost, like a child, with sunflower seed shells falling from his lap as he stood up. There were broken pieces of ceramics in his hair. He dusted his whole body (and expensive three-piece suit, she noticed), as he straightened up, then lifted a hand to swipe at the top of his ear. Blood.
Scully gasped, turning around to grab a tissue. "Are you hurt, love?" she demanded, voice quivering. She could feel the tears pushing through her eyes like wrecking balls. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't … I was looking …" The feeling of rage returned, strong, and it pushed her tears back to where they came from. "What the fuck are you doing in there?" she burst out, walking to him and removing his hand from his wound.
Her husband grimaced as she dabbed at the scratch. Inspecting it on tiptoes, she saw that it wasn't serious and it didn't seem to have even broken through much skin. Placing pressure on the wound, she waited for his answer, resisting the urge to tap her bare foot on the carpet while waiting.
"Surprise?" he weakly stated, gesturing at the bouquet of white and yellow lilies that were left in the closet.
Just like that, those damn wrecking ball tears were back.
"Jesus, Mulder, there's a better way to surprise me –"
"I wanted to! But I had to fix some things and Jerry told me you'll be dressing up in the next few hours, so …" he swiped at a tear that fell down her cheek. Shit, her makeup artist would definitely kill her. "Darling, I'm sorry." The fact that he ended the apology there meant that Mulder wasn't apologizing for the unexpected surprise/shock, he was apologizing for something deeper than that.
"Mulder … I'm sorry, too. For the vase and … I'm sorry for shutting up about the baby. I'm sorry for pushing for the baby when it's obviously putting stress on us. I just …" she swallowed the waterfall of emotions, mindful of her makeup and the expensive suit her husband was wearing, which she was about to stain, "… I really want another one."
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides with lines that started appearing a couple of years ago. Scully loved those lines, even the strands of white on his hair or on his occasional five o'clock shadow. "Me too. I really want two more." That made her laugh. He continued, "But I don't like the pressure. Look at what it's doing to us – we're supposed to be enjoying Vegas, you know, good ole memories of us in that old apartment and, and practicing the script while you tortured me …"
Scully smacked him on his chest. He protested by pretending his head hurt, and she let herself fall for it by tiptoeing up to press a chaste kiss on his lips. Mulder snickered, "… and you brewed love potion to make me fall in love with you –"
"HEY!" That one earned him a pinch on his butt. Mulder waggled his eyebrows.
"Careful, darling, this is Armani. What I mean is that … it's not everyday that we get the time to be with each other. Just us time, you know. I love it. I miss the kids, of course I do, and you do too, but this is a luxury we only get once every two or three years. I want to enjoy this luxury." Mulder drew forward, tucking the bloody tissue in his pocket. Before he could lean in for a kiss, she inspected the wound, made sure it wasn't bleeding anymore, and opened her mouth to his seeking lips. Their tongues mingled together, him tasting of salty sunflower seeds and sweet iced tea (his alternative to beer), and she probably tasted of granola bar and lipstick.
Soon, too soon, it was getting out of hand. Scully's fingers had found the zipper of his Armani slacks, sliding it down his half-mast erection, while his own hands were fumbling with the tight knot of her robe. Their lips crashed against each other, teeth grating, bites and nips, until his lips transferred to her chin.
"Wait, wait!" she pushed him away, catching her breath. Mulder raised his hands up, as if he was being arrested. Eyes were already dark green, a sure way of detecting his arousal and that there was no way they were stopping. Not that she wanted to, but hell, there had to be some reminders before nookie.
"Those were enough kisses. No more. Show's in two hours and the makeup artist will murder me if we mess my face up. It already IS messed up."
"I like it messed up. You're gorgeous messed up," Mulder panted. She ignored him.
"Your suit comes off, Mulder."
"I paid for this shit. No, wait, WB paid for this shit."
"Do you have another shit to wear for the show?"
"No."
"Then, off." He complied, shrugging off his jacket. His slacks came after, and while he was shimmying out of them, Scully crossed over to the door and locked it. Actually, double locked it. She didn't want to give the press outside anything else to talk about for the next couple of months.
When she returned to her husband, he was in his boxers, erection evident. That was when she laughed out loud.
"Holy fuck, did you really wear that?"
Suddenly, Mulder looked vulnerable in his infamous green-red boxers. The same green-red boxers she had teased him endlessly with the first time they were in Vegas.
"Nostalgia, Scully. Where's your sense of romanticism?"
Her giggles were reined, and in one long graceful ballerina-like stride, Scully was in front of him. "You turn me on when you talk Harvard," she whispered against the skin of his chest, dropping to her knees and pushing down his boxers to his ankles. His dick bobbed out, red and thick, making Scully lick her lips in anticipation. Hello, Junior, I missed you, she thought with satisfaction.
"I knew my degree was worth something … aaaaah," he gasped when she swallowed him whole until he pushed at the back of her throat. Scully wasn't in the mood for pretenses, for seduction, or even a lengthy foreplay. She wanted to take him, dominate her husband, to show him just how sorry she was. With a pop, she released his dick.
"Good?" she asked him, batting her bejeweled eyelashes innocently up at him. Sweaty Mulder nodded, lost for words. Satisfied by his non-reply, Scully returned to her task, taking him all the way – a feat that she practiced for years, for Mulder had a huge cock and it wasn't easy for her to deep throat. Eventually, she had learned to relax her muscles enough that she could do a sensational blowjob without choking. And he loved it. Goodness, he did – because he made those little grunts and gasps that would escalate into screams of her name when he was close. Sometimes, she let him fall. Sometimes, he wouldn't let himself fall.
Scully sucked in her cheeks to give him a tighter penetration, then stilled her head, anchoring her hands on his perfect ass cheeks. She kneaded them, encouraging him to thrust into her mouth. Mulder did without hesitation, his hands settling on her coiffed hair. Alarmed, she swatted them off and Mulder lifted them as if electrocuted. Still thrusting into her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, which gave him good traction.
The sounds of his full-blown moans echoed in the tiny dressing room, ratcheting Scully's arousal. She could feel the sticky wetness in between her legs, but she ignored it for the meantime. Concentrating on his pleasure was what she wanted now.
"Jesus Christ, Scully, baby …" Mulder groaned, thrusting out of her mouth. His penis was throbbing red when she let go, with precum seeping out of its slit. Scully couldn't help herself – she licked its head clean, which made Mulder jump.
"Baby, stop. I'm about to explode. Give me a second here," he complained, placing a hand on his abdomen to collect himself. Scully smirked and loosened the knot of her robe. Obviously, Mulder wanted to do the honors but she did it herself, sliding the robe down to her feet and moving to the couch. It was surrounded by stray flowers, and some had fallen down the cushion, but these were ignored when Scully sat down and crossed her legs, demure. "Come here, Mulder," she invited, patting the space beside her.
Eagerly, Mulder jumped on the couch, dislodging some of the flowers even more. With a giggle, Scully mounted him, the couch still shaking from the aftershocks of his antics. He joined her laughter, his hands finding her thin waist and pushing her body close to his. They only stopped when her nipples fully brushed on his bare chest, and her wet heat was rubbing against his raging erection.
Mulder's eyes bulged, as if he had taken a bite out of the fruit of knowledge. "Scully –wait, there's something you need … oooooh, fuuuuck …" there went his thoughts, because lust had overtaken her body and she sank onto him, not even giving herself time to adjust to his girth.
"I want to fuck you," Scully whispered into his ear, effectively making Mulder forget what he needed to say. Her hips moved to their own accord, trapping his cock in her tight, wet heat. "Don't move. Let me do this."
"Yes, ma'am!" he throatily replied, the hands on her waist falling down to his sides. He held onto the loose covering of the cushions for dear life.
Scully placed a hand at Mulder's nape, effectively pinning his eyes to hers. "Watch me," she commanded him, and he nodded. She rode him fast and hard, up and down, then grinding against him when she felt him throb inside her. Mulder snaked his hand down to flick at her hardened bundle of nerves, but she held him down. "No," she sharply said, feeling the coiling in her belly as she continued riding him.
"Aaaah," he sighed, leaning forward and biting into her shoulder. That made her lose control. She began to piston against him, not caring if she was practically hauling the couch off the floor or that the flowers were shaken off their vases, falling down their sides like a rain of petals. One fell on Mulder's face and she giggled as she brushed it off. He grimaced, the laughter sending contractions down below where they were both so tender, and to abate the sensations, he disobeyed her and thrust up. Scully's mouth opened to form an O, before she surrendered to his movements.
Mulder picked up fast – he crushed Scully's body on his, their sweat mingling with each other. She wrapped her arms around him, making sure her face was not in danger of smudging. With a growl, Mulder bucked up, his fingers working her clit mercilessly, roughly. A jolt raced rom her head to her groin and Scully came, wailing into his ear, "I love you … this is soooo good, love youuuuu …."
Mulder echoed the sentiments, whispering, "Love you back," before he came with a guttural shout. He emptied himself in her, his throbbing a wonderful massage to her still-convulsing inner muscles. They stayed that way for a few minutes, their breaths stilling ... until a stray vase behind them couldn't hold anymore and it fell to the floor with a loud crack!
"God, we need tissue," Scully giggled again, her breath hot on her husband's neck. She was unwilling to move despite feeling him softening inside her, knowing the mess that was about to happen if she did. Mulder looked around them, found his red-green boxers, and offered it to her. The giggle became a full-blown cackle.
"Hey, better than nothing!"
Knock. Knock.
Scully's body stiffened, as her husband smacked a palm on his forehead. "I was trying to tell you –" he trailed off. She squeezed his shoulders and glared at him. Mulder sighed, inching her off his lap. "I was trying to tell you the other half of my surprise."
"Which is?" she piped up as she slid off him, wiped herself with those damned red-green boxers, and ran to where her robe was. She shoved the boxers in her bag. The knocking on the dressing room door grew frantic, with smaller knocks that were too familiar …
Mulder was scrambling with his clothing, carefully zipping his slacks up since he was going commando. "I brought the children here. They're here to watch you perform."
"All of them here?" Scully tightened her robe around her, facing the mirror and dabbing with tissue all the spots that were smudged or tainted. Her lips, in particular, was a spectacular kaleidoscopic mess, so she removed all her lipstick and sent a silent prayer above to make her death by the makeup artist quick and clean.
"All of them. And Mom. Emily wanted to come but she's pregnant so …" Mulder buttoned his suit, looking as suave and handsome as ever. Feeling as if she was also somewhat presentable, Scully stood up and faced him. They glanced at the mess they've created and shrugged, so Mulder skipped to the door and opened it. Soon, they were invaded by four precious tots: nine-year-old William who was dressed up in a suit similar to his father's and was taking the lead to hug her with their eight-year-old Margaret who was impeccably gorgeous in her glittering golden dress. Six-year-old Missy was prancing around in a midriff baring metallic silver dress that made Scully raise an eyebrow at her husband (as if to ask, who allowed her to wear that?), while five-year-old John shuffled shyly behind his brother and sisters in a crisp white polo shirt and tie. They were all holding lilies that they handed to Scully one-by-one, and which she received by bending down on her knees and giving each a tight hug.
"Oh, my babies," Scully soughed, feeling the happiness fill her to the brim. John buried himself in her arms while William, ever the big brother, inspected the smashed vase in the closet. The two girls ran to their father and started bouncing on the couch, delighted by the smattering of flowers there.
"Mulder, you're encouraging them!" she scolded, holding John close. She got up on her feet to meet her mother-in-law. "Mum!" Scully greeted, reaching over to plant two kisses on Teena's cheeks and a warm embrace. She loved her husband's mother beyond belief and having her around for the last show was a tremendous confidence booster.
"Your husband said you'd like to have us here with you for your last night. I really wanted to go, but was just waiting for a free ticket –" Teena winked. From the couch, Mulder said, "Care of WB!" before he was flanked by the two sniggering girls.
William picked up the bouquet of lilies in the closet. "What happened here, Mum?" he inquired in his wistful way. Scully eyed Mulder, Mulder eyed her back, and their gaze didn't surprise Teena, who sat down the boudoir's chair to watch the parents grope the air for an explanation.
"Uhh, your Dad sort of surprised me –"
"or I shocked your Mum –"
"and I sort of protected myself with a vase –"
"… your Mum sure knew how to use that vase –"
"But we're all fine now!" she happily ended, getting an approving glance from her husband. William scratched his head for a minute, not really getting their explanation, but instead placed the bouquet together with the other flowers. That was when he stepped on the cracked vase and Mulder ushered him away from it.
"What happened here?" Teena declared worriedly. The couple once more shared a glance, and within that passing second, the grandmother knew what she needed to. "Jesus Christ, you two jackrabbits get a grip sometimes," she mock-scolded, a smile hiding beneath her words.
"Mom, I have the hottest wife in the world – People Magazine said so last year! What did the magazine with Mummy say last year, baby?" Mulder placed an arm around Margaret and drew her in for a hug. The girl raised her arms up in the air: "Mummy's the Most Beautiful in the World!" Mulder kissed the top of Margaret's head, and of course Missy wouldn't be left out of it, so he also kissed her hair. William sat down beside Margaret and placed flowers in his sister's crowning glory, just to annoy her. "See? How can I resist the Most Beautiful in the World, Mom?" her husband tried, to which Scully rolled her eyes.
"But you're just Mum," John squeaked in her arms. Scully stared down and nodded at her quiet boy. "Yes, John. I'm just Mum," she agreed.
"The most beautiful Mum in the world," Mulder interjected, unable to quit as always, with William on his lap trying hard to avoid the playful swats of Margaret.
There was a knock on the dressing room door and without preamble, her makeup artist and costume designer entered. Upon seeing her disheveled face, the makeup artist glared at her first, then at her husband. Mulder feigned innocence with a wicked, handsome smile. The costume designer tsk-tsked at the broken vase near the closet, but hopped over it to reach the costume.
"Okay, everyone, time to go out. Mummy's about to get ready. I'll see you after the show!" Scully declared, lest she raised the ire of her glam squad. Each of her children hugged and kissed her, whispering "good luck" in her ear as they left. Teena also kissed both of her cheeks, then followed after her grandchildren. When it was Mulder's turn, they chastely kissed under the watchful eyes of her glam squad, and with an "I'll see you later," left.
Two months later and still in Vegas …
"Hmpff," Mulder groaned, the sunlight harsh on his still-sleepy eyes.
"Good morning, Dad!" small voices declared. He shook his head into the pillow and grabbed the pillow opposite him, draping it over his face.
"C'mon, Daddy, we have something for you!" William's unmistakable voice pleaded, before he crashed on his father's body with a loud "oof!"
Wait, what? Where was his wife?
Mulder sat up quickly like an uncoiled spring, making William slide onto the empty space beside him. He glanced around the room, spots of white invading his vision, searching for Scully. She couldn't have gone out already, could she? And she didn't tell him that she was going out last night, too.
He assessed the children in front of him, who were grinning at him like excited little imps. They were all in their pyjamas, with Missy twirling around in her princess-like sleepshirt. Margaret had her glasses on, sitting on the bedside table's chair with John, who was clutching his elder sister with a sleepy grip.
"William, where's your Mum?"
"She has a surprise for you …" his son teased. Mulder laughed, not helping himself, and he reached over to ruffle his red hair.
A month after they had returned home from Scully's successful show in the Folies Bergere, the premiere of Mulder's latest movie was moved to Las Vegas, rather than in Los Angeles. It definitely wasn't in their schedule to fly to Vegas for the month of May, but Mulder acquiesced since Scully had free time and the children had begun their summer vacation. So, he packed everyone in for the three days he was required to stay in Vegas.
Anyway, there were many, many good memories in Sin City. Plus, he loved cozying up in the Four Queens.
But where was his wife?
As if she read his mind, Scully appeared in the room, carrying chocolate cake with a candle atop. Mulder pushed himself up the bed, with William draping his arms around his torso. Missy jumped up and down the carpeted floors, crying, "I baked that! I baked that!" while waving her little magic wand around.
"Scully, it isn't my birthday!" he said, chuckling. She had a mysterious smile on, with her makeup-free face glowing and her curly hair up in a neat bun. Sitting down at the foot of his bed, she gently laid the cake on Mulder's lap.
"Read what's on it!" William urged him. He peered down at the cake and his eyes widened:
Baby # 5
"No way? Really?" he asked in awe, staring up at his wife. Vaguely, he registered William leaning in to blow the candle.
Scully nodded, her cheeks blushing, while their children started clapping. "By my counting, I'm two months pregnant." She grinned. "That was one lucky visit you paid me at my dressing room."
"Seriously?" he still asked, flabbergasted. He couldn't believe it. They had been trying for a baby since October … and all it took was make up sex?
"Yes, serious. Chocolate cake serious," Scully assured him, sitting down closer to where he was. She reached over the bedside table, where small plates and forks were ready for their impromptu feast. "Since Missy did such a good job baking our baby # 5 cake this morning, we can skip our healthy breakfast and have this for breakfast instead." Scully winked at Mulder, and he nodded to assure her that it was indeed a time for celebration.
The children all whooped happily. Mulder saw the window of opportunity and drew his wife close enough for a lingering kiss on her lips. "As they say, Scully, when in Vegas …"
She kissed him back, a quick peck on the side of his mouth, then threw her head back to laugh with her trademark string of ha-ha-has. "Viva Las Vegas!" she cheerfully agreed, as the children all gathered around the bed and Mulder shook his head, remembering that song's significance all too well.
Viva Las Vegas indeed.
THE END
C/N: Thank you so much, dear readers. This was quite a ride: from 1999 to 2016. Amazing. All thanks to each and every one of you! Lilies, yellow and white, for you all! Bravo!
