From: Ten Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1998 13:55:40 +1000 (EST) Subject: "Domestication" (1/1) by Ten I would love feedback on my work! TITLE: "Domestication" (1/1) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: kristena@ocean.com.au CATEGORY: Absolutely MSR (they've wed and bred), H, V RATING: PG-13 for adult situations more implied than described SUMMARY: Is settling down dull? A day in the life of Mrs Fox Mulder... TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is a sequel to my stories "A Star By Any Other Name" and "The Others", (and one other still in my head) but can be read on its own. The series goes into alternate universe during the third season, "Tunguska" and "Terma" still happened, but Scully did not get cancer. The other stories are available through Gossamer or me. ARCHIVE INFO: Can be archived anywhere as long as my name and addy stay attached. It goes to Gossamer through xff. THANKS: To Annieb for great suggestions and the bulletins on married life - you seriously think I could think up the events in this story myself???? All have been tried and tested, and exaggerated slightly in places - LOL. And to Debbie, Mac, Lisa, Gerry and Amy. The spelling 'Tena' for Mrs Mulder is from the XF 'Contact' trading cards issued about two years ago. DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. The X-Files: "Domestication" (1/1) by Ten, August 1998 You would think my husband's sleeping habits would have improved by now, after twelve years of marriage. He woke both of us up last night by falling out of his chair after nodding off at the computer while online. Thank God we pay for unlimited access. I should really get him to move the computer terminal into the study, but he needs something to occupy him when he can't sleep - he's always got by on less sleep than me - and I like to be able to wake up and know he's right there, to just observe his profile as he's absorbed in the screen; then, if the mood takes me, tell him to get over here now and do his husbandly duties. Rarely fails. Though once he'd just found this big new UFO mecca website, and I had to go over and get his attention. Namely by sitting in his lap and blocking the console. Well, we ended up making love like that. We lose more chairs that way. Though when he's had enough of surfing the net and burrows back into bed...on a cold night... SCREAM! If he was injured and we were stranded in the middle of a forest, then yes, I'd share my body heat, no hesitation. But cold feet and hands against me at four in the morning means war. He apologises by warming me up nicely, insisting that his mouth is quite hot. God...is it ever... Wednesday night he woke me at 3am for amorous adventures. I wouldn't have minded - well, didn't mind during - if it wasn't a work night and for the fact that he's able to roll over and sleep while I lay there completely awake... But Mulder on a mission is still a beautiful sight. I'm going through the house now, checking that it's all shut up for the night, and grabbing stray basketballs and such that are in danger of being underfoot. If I don't pick them up, Mulder will trip over something for sure. Fortunately the kids don't take after him in that way. Unless Callie has her nose in a book or More has his headphones on as they walk around... But they know how to summon help. I think "911" was More's first word. Callie went for a hat trick: "Da fall whoooo!" I do NOT want a repeat of last summer. The whole neighbourhood still talks about it. We woke up to hear dogs attacking our rabbit hutch in the backyard. Fox charged off to the rescue with his flashlight just like in the old days...only this time he was bare-assed naked. Looked like a statue of a Greek god in the moonlight... I was in his t-shirt. The dogs were chased off, our pets were okay, and I quickly secured the gate. I was ready to haul my man back to bed to enjoy some full moon fertility rites. He tripped on the patio steps. Sprained his ankle. Blamed me because I was making his hormones rage so much he couldn't see straight. The kids heard the noise and came down - I had to hide his assets with a deck chair cushion. In the next few weeks, I found that a lot of our neighbours were coincidentally awake and peering out their windows that night at just that time, and they agreed in a poll that Mulder did indeed have the bod of a god. Oh, and that I had nice legs. Now I wonder if Mrs Stevens will leave the gate open deliberately after one of her visits to get a cheap thrill... What a marriage... I pass the dining room table, then stop and look back, lingering. That table is from my old Annapolis apartment. I've served up many delectable things there - including myself. I blush at the memory. It was during the year that Mulder and I had finally declared our feelings and become lovers, but were keeping it from everyone else. We had agreed to a 'hands-off' policy while out of town on cases, and during work. And we obeyed it. It wasn't easy, but at least we knew what we meant to each other, and could talk and tease while alone. And could both coincidentally need to get files from the exact same drawer of the same filing cabinet at the exact same time... Still, one particular case was a looooooooong three week out-of-town stretch. When we got back to D.C., Skinner wanted to see us, so we went by my apartment to drop our luggage off on the way to the office. I got inside first and suddenly was struck by a gloriously erotic idea. So a few minutes later Mulder came in, hefting two suitcases. "Want them in the bedroom?" "Yeah," I replied. He noticed where I was and stopped. Stared. I was sitting on the dining room table, just perched there, dangling legs crossed at the knees. "Dana...what are you doing?" "Nothing much. Oh, would you please put these in my laundry bag?" I removed my hand from behind my back and tossed my lacy underwear at him. He gaped at me, staring at my crossed legs, my fully- dressed body, then at the red silk that had landed a metre short of him on the floor. I began sliding my top leg up and down. He nearly dropped one of the suitcases onto his foot... Back to now. I think back over my day. Saturday. 7.45 am - Fox came back from his jog and showered. I'd had a nice lie in, so we did some housework. Callie's dark head was already perched in front of the TV. She likes the Discovery Channel and any cartoons that aren't too stupid for her eleven year old intelligence. I kept planning a family picnic for tomorrow and at eight-thirty started yelling up the stairs to More. He had to get ready for his team party - baseball. Morgan is eight years old now. Where did that time go? He loves to sleep in. Makes up for his father. I hauled our boy downstairs to breakfast over his bleary-eyed protests. Fox smirked at him. "Don't resist, son. It makes for an easier life." Callie and I dropped More off at the coach's house. Then we Mulder women hit the bookstore. We both love reading. Callista devours books. Especially on ancient civilisations. Even when she was younger, she loved Fox's telescope sessions, but outer space never had the same pull on her as the world does. Humans. Places. History. She can't wait to travel around the world. When she was little and we were in bookstores, we kept getting amused looks because our daughter would browse the kids' stuff, sure, but then either Fox or I would end up in the history section for ages, patiently turning glossy pages of big hardcovers too unwieldy for her, too expensive to risk ripping, so she could gaze at the pictures. We were back by eleven so I could go to the hardware store with Fox. I wanted to make sure that we got the right tiles for the bathroom. Then, relieved to be out of that situation, Fox took Callie to her baseball game. Callista solemnly swore to me that she would let me know if any of her friends' moms started chatting daddy up. But it was said with his smile. "If you think he's lying, Mom, just shoot him again." I trust him. And it's nice to have time at home by myself. Time apart helps keep you together. I'm going shopping with the girls tomorrow, but for a few hours I relaxed and read, chatted on the phone, checked over my latest pathology article before I sent it in. Me stuff. I leave as much paperwork at work as I can. Fox and I still work for the FBI but our hours are not as all-consuming as they once were. Things have changed, and not just in the fact that we've got a family we'd rather spend time with. We're called in on consults and to do lectures on pathology, psychology, serial killers and the paranormal. The running of the X-Files Division is overseen by us. It has credence and respect now. Because five years ago we busted the Consortium wide open. Defeated their planned devastating viral outbreak. Mulder uncovered it. Using the information we gathered and the antibodies in his blood from his ordeal in Russia, I was able to reproduce the vaccine and make it even more effective. Mass immunisations. Threw their plans into chaos. We had the evidence and we kicked butt. Now there is support and justification to keep many eyes out for any continuance of these dark agendas. Whether by humans...or otherwise... Mulder reunited with Sam during this time. She had to leave - she has a position of trust in one of the science teams in the Consortium ranks and hoped to do some damage on the inside if they started up again, or to warn us if she could. Fox didn't want her to go, but she said she was just as determined to bring about the defeat of these men as he was. Runs in the family. At least he knows that she loves him and is alive. Fox watched all of Callie's game and then the both of them picked More up from the party. Neither of their teams have made it into the finals, but they had fun along the way. The kids were dropped off at Tena's for a few hours - she moved into the area a few years ago to be closer to the kids and for us to make sure she's all right. She said there was nothing left for her in Greenwich. Fox was back by two and we did the shopping. When Callie was born, Fox asked if we could raise her as a believer, then alternate between that & sceptic depending on how many kids we had. What we got was a daughter who loved Santa Claus but demanded a personal note from him - Skinner proved to be as good at calligraphy as he is at Godfathering, so that disaster was averted. More is both halves of us too - a mix of believer and sceptic. Very passionate about right and wrong. Especially concerning who gets to have the last chocolate chip cookie. He goes through phases: mad about rock collecting one month, then a tv-show the next, or dinosaurs, or Garfield...or how the phone works... One constant is singing and music. I don't know what will happen when his voice breaks, but he certainly didn't get his talents from either of us. Those headphones on that reddish-brown hair and walkman slung on his belt are a near constant, so much that we allow him to play the stereo out loud occasionally and tremble the house just so we can find out what he's listening to. He does have some good taste - when the Celtic melodies are on, he and Callie don't squabble as much, I love the music, and Fox gives that special grin of a man who is very, very content. We're planning a family trip to the British Isles. Something for all of us to enjoy. At around 3pm, I was finishing checking my e-mail again, and Fox was not-so-subtly dropping hints about taking over the computer himself. "Use the kids'." "Can't. Little brats passworded it! Like we're the Government or something!" "Passworded what? Are they running loose around the Internet?" "I don't think so - now it asks for a password when you boot up the computer. We'll sort it out tonight." He still looked annoyed. "Poor dear, do you want me to call the Gunmen to crack it for you?" Fox snorted and kept on muttering. "Shut up and drop them," I said, unbuttoning my blouse. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and as for regions south of the border... I strode over and shoved him backwards onto the waterbed. Gee, quite a look of astonishment - don't even think I shocked him that much when I told him I was pregnant with a very unplanned Callie. "Dana... Your Mom..." "Don't kill the mood, lover." "Dana - you've - whooooooooooooa! - gotta pick - Mom & Bill up - airport...twenty minutes!!!!" "That's why I believe they call this a quickie!" Soon I threw my clothes back on, blew a kiss to the melted hubby on the bed, who managed a moan in response, and headed to the airport. Mom has been visiting Bill & Co, and he's come back to spend a few days with her. Hopefully not too many seeing us. But the wide grin on my face certainly made him think that I'm utterly thrilled to see him. He'd die if I told him the truth. Well, he'd kill Mulder first for daring to touch his sister, then he'd die. I think he's convinced himself that we had the kids by osmosis just to keep his sanity and the peace. Home by 4.30 with kids in tow. Hubby was sitting at the computer, still looking dazed. Poor baby. The kids vowed that they haven't tampered with their restricted Net access, just passworded the computer so we won't accidentally read any of their diary files or stories. It is agreed that they will just password those particular files from now on so we don't get locked out if we want to use the computer or wordprocessor ourselves. 5pm I took More to the church picnic. Picked him up by 7. Sometimes I'll be glad when they have their driver's licences...other times I just want to grab them and hug them forever. Them moving out of the house will come soon enough. No rush. Callie, Fox and I ate. I caught Fox's eye and flicked my gaze to the spot where we had that quickie all those years ago. He gave a puzzled frown, then saw the smokiness in my eyes and lips. He nodded and mouthed: "Next Saturday." "What's going on?" Callie asked. Did I mention she's observant when she's not reading? "Just showing your father a mark on the table that I want him to polish." /With my butt./ "I'll alert the ER," she said with a grin. "Dad's sure to put his back out." Fox gave her a look, both of us wondering if she knew exactly what we were on about. Her grin showed she did. "Dad'll slice his finger with the polisher..." she amended. "And which daughter of mine strained her neck once from too many hours at the telescope looking at the stars? Or from bumping into walls because her nose was in a book?" "Least I'm sensible enough to have a buffer!" Yeah, she's a reader, but she's not at the far end of the spectrum like I was. It's not study, it's pleasure. She's got friends - in fact, a better social life at eleven than I had at sixteen! She's fascinated by people - maybe she'll become an anthropologist? - trying to work out how humankind got to this point, how cultures and civilisations developed. Callie doesn't overdo it to the point I used to. Though we'll have to keep an eye on her when she gets into the final years of school. Math bores her. Then Fox struck on the idea of applying the figures to her beloved ancients, i.e., instead of the numbers being just numbers, we attach it to something like Mayan maize or pounds of Aztec gold, and her grades have gone up. Oh - must ring up Mary's Mom about that sleep over next week... After seven I refereed an extremely hysterical game of two on one with Fox and the kids at the basketball ring over the garage. Callie is going to be WAY taller than me... Mrs Stevens took this opportunity to potter in her garden, accidentally lopping off perfectly good growth as her eyes took in the sweaty t-shirt clinging to Fox's torso. Showers. Exhausted kids and hubby wanted to watch a video. I kicked their butts. Time to tell More a few stories, spinning tales, some that he doesn't have to know have a hint of truth. I promised we'll all go hunting for shells tomorrow - his latest obsession - on the picnic. "And a sea monster," he added sleepily. Perhaps we should head for Big Blue country... I go upstairs now, turning off lights. Fox joins me as we peek in at both of our creations. The usual ritual. Callie is caught reading under the covers and tickle- tortured as punishment. More has his headphones on, but that's fine because he drifts off to the music. Then Fox kisses me and heads for the bedroom while I go to our bathroom. And now into our bedroom - Fox is sprawled out across the bed, wearing only his jeans and tousled bed-hair that just makes me want to jump him then and there, even after all this time. The phone rings. Mom. Gee Mom, still jumping in at the nick of time to preserve my virtue? We confirm arrangements for lunch on Monday, then I say that I have to go. I don't tell her exactly why. There's a trouser snake on the bed, and I fully intend to capture, domesticate and subdue it, and learn all I can about its mating habits. Bye! THE END.