#donald x angryeyebrows
The fourth series reads as follows:
Apple Balancing…Potential…The Newbies…The Dessert …Dinosaurs and Cannibalism
To catch up: First series…Second series … Third series
&&&&&&&&&&
“So, what are you going to do with Walter on Saturday?”
He’d forgotten he was in charge of the stepfather-in-law, “shit.”
“You can always just take him to work, have him watch you look up stuff, steal books from various locations in the Hoover Building. I’ve done it. It’s a very scintillating Saturday activity.”
Taking the book from her lap and tossing it over his shoulder, he crawled up her body, settling nicely between thighs, nose buried beside ear, “when do I get to have sex with you again?”
“Did the word ‘scintillating’ do it for you?”
“Your eyes, your voice, your smell, your breathing did it for me but yeah, scintillating just ramped it up a notch or two.”
Knowing Will was in the bedroom with baby monitor on, she slid her hands down the back of his cut-off sweats, elastic shot, easy access, fingers squeezing before he comprehended, “you should take these off.”
Well, now, that overwhelmed any and all capacity for free thinking so he simply followed orders, stripping himself then her of all impeding clothing, sliding into her slowly, carefully, knowing she’d stop him if something was wrong but something must have been right because the sound lowing from the back of her throat made him dizzy, drove his hips forward, lips attached to the pulsing vein in her neck, debating for the briefest of moments if he ever really had to leave such a perfect heaven, to eat, to drink, to breathe.
Then Scully’s hips shifted, legs pulling him just a little bit closer, pushing a little bit further, driving a little bit harder …
How he had survived these last months without this, he’d never know.
As he relished in the wet warmth, Scully began talking to him, low things, dirty things, shifting from sentences to fragments to single-word filth, what she’d been dreaming of, awake and asleep, for several months and centuries, words punctuated with deeper thrusts and heavier breaths, one bead of sweat leading to pools and rivers, skin sliding, invoking God and Mulder and God again, endless string of ramped up conversation, Mulder joining, describing, seeing stars, blinking amazement, closing eyes to everything but her, slapping thwap to make her find the edge, fly over, fall down in gasping growl as he followed, filling, finishing, dropping back, forehead against her collar bone, her fingers drawing across smooth muscle and hot skin, “I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you.”
&&&&&&&&&
It was only after they’d gotten up for midnight snacks and to feed Will, the pair sitting on the couch, dim and quiet, baby in her arms still eating in his sleep, that Mulder returned to the question posed several hours earlier, “you know, maybe we’ll just take the kids to the zoo or the aquarium. Skinner’ll like that and it’ll kill the whole day and the kids won’t be running around while everybody gets ready.”
“I think he’ll like that, too, and you’ll get to see the manatees and the turtles.”
“And the stingrays. Don’t forget the stingrays.”
“And the stingrays.” Giving him a smile, “you’re going to buy a stuffed stingray, aren’t you?”
“Darn tootin’, little miss.” Lightly wiggling Will’s toes, “the boy here needs to start his collection of stuff-ed vicious sea animals.” Given the dark and the 11:45pm time frame, he kept hold of his son’s feet while glancing up at her through half-closed lids, “so, I have a question and you have to promise not to yell or get all pissy about it.”
“Are you going to ask me something that will guarantee me to break my promise?”
“I don’t think so but you never know.”
Shifting the baby, she gave him a side-eye glance, “fire away, poor boy.”
“We just had sex and it was really, really good sex but we didn’t use any protection and what … well, what if we just made Will there a little brother or sister?”
She had been expecting a monumental nonsense or fiery death daggers from the sky type question and hearing this instead, she gave him a smile, “then I get a little rounder and clumsier and hungrier and eventually we buy a house.”
“But what about work?”
“As you have told me, on multiple occasions and with varying displays of our bank account, I don’t need to work to live anymore.” Wiggling her feet in his direction until he let go of his son’s and took his wife’s, “and while I love what I do, I will gladly give it up for my kids … our kids.”
He had been expecting vast amounts of brimstone to descend from the heavens instead of quiet exchange in regards to his second question and asking his third, “will you expect me to do the same?”
“I expect you to remain safely out of harm’s way. You will think of your kid or kids first and foremost and come home every night whole and perfect like you are right now.” Tilting her head towards him, eye twinkling, “well, except for that mustard on your chin. You can probably clean that off whenever you like.”
After removing mustard, he licked his finger, then gave her a smile, “so should we try to have another one then? ‘Cause we can go give it a whirl right now.”
And out came her little grimace, “I think I need a day to recover a little. Rusty muscles and all.”
“We are totally naming our band ‘Rusty Muscles’ and you can’t stop me.”
&&&&&&&&&
They had to borrow the Gunmen’s van to get everybody to the aquarium, Mulder riding shotgun, because, as Skinner emphatically put it while holding out his hands for the keys, “I’ve seen you drive the Beltway. Hand them over.”
And hand them he did, wishing he could argue the comment but, knowing full well he did drive the Beltway like a man possessed but so did the rest of the assholes surrounding him doing 90, he kept his mouth shut and relished the idea of not having to do anything but discuss verboten things like monsters and aliens with those in the car under the age of 14.
“Does everybody have their buddy? Do you know your buddy’s name? Does your buddy know your name?”
Hannah held up her hand, firmly grasping Toby, “I have my buddy and I’m calling him Iggy today.”
“Does he know his name is Iggy?”
Toby responded with a giggle, “I’m Iggy and she’s Sprinkles.”
“What’s with the name change? Witness protection?”
Sam answered before Hannah could, “we all got new names last night. I’m Phineas Fartmonger. Iggy is Ignatius Popperton …”
Mulder laughed, “Iggy Pop. That was your dad’s doing.”
“Yeah but he wouldn’t let us listen to any of the songs.”
“Smart man.”
Sam continued, pointing to Jake, “he’s Peterson J. Jabberwocky. Hannah’s is the best, she’s ‘Sassy Sprinklepants’. Betsy is ‘Big Money Lil’ Bets.” Aiming at poor Graham beside him, “he’s Donald X. Angryeyebrows.”
Graham interjected, “I wasn’t having a very good day.”
“Matt, tell him yours.”
Matt, a head taller than the rest of the kids, shrugged, a half-smile playing on his lips, “Betty Sue Freemont-Freeloader.”
Mulder couldn’t breathe by now and vowed to call them all by their new names until roughly the end of time, “you are all getting t-shirts with your names for Christmas. Swear to Scully’s God.”
Toby, most excellent small fry, “You shouldn’t swear, Uncle Mudler. Mama says you’ll burn in hell if you swear.”
Toby got to eat Mulder’s whipped cream during their afternoon ice cream break.
Finishing pairing up, Betsy claimed Uncle Skimmer, Graham claimed Jake and Jake claimed Graham, leaving Mulder, Matt and Sam to be a manly team that didn’t hold hands but hovered in an orderly fashion around the rest of them, herding wandering pairs back to the crowd and keeping any and all from drowning in the stingray pond.
Skinner never inquired as to why he and Mulder were day-tripping to the aquarium, going along without question or comment, wiping faces, holding sticky hands, eating leftover breadcrusts and sharing popsicles with both Betsy and Toby. He did, however, lean over to Mulder as they were waiting for the kids to finish their last bathroom breaks, “so, should they get some kind of final reward for not spilling whatever beans they’re keeping in?”
Mulder shrugged, “they deserve a gold medal but they’ll be happy with what’s coming.”
Skinner gave him another look, eyebrow raised, “there’d better be pie.”
Rubbing his hands together with a wicked grin, “and adult beverages for later.”
“Thank God.”
&&&&&&&&
Party proclaimed a success by all invited, it was nearly midnight before Will fell asleep in the kitchen in the beat-up, overused, built to last basinet that Maggie kept for all visitors under the age of 1. Mulder parked his son in the corner by the island and turned to his wife, the swaying red-head who had taken her first sip of Punch a scant 25 minutes ago, “drunk yet?”
“I do not get drunk, Mulder, I get tipsy.” And tip she did, feet not receiving walking orders after her body heard them loud and clear. Luckily, the wall and Skinner caught her, “see, tipsy.”
“Oh, my God.” With a grin, he gently took her arms and sat her down in a chair, “you should not be this weird already. You’ve only had half a glass.”
“But I have been without the liquors for almost a year. My body has forgotten.” Sticking her tongue out, “is it blue?”
“Oh, it’s blue, all right, and you had the liquors a week and a half ago.”
“It takes years of practice, Mudler. One night of the liquors does not a tolerant system make.” Sticking her tongue back out, “it is blue. Can you imagine if I breast-fed Will right now? He would be blue.” Giggling, she slapped Mulder’s thigh, “he would be blue, Mudler. Blue!”
Sometimes, he wished he had a video camera to capture these precious moments, “yes, very blue and the lovely protective services people would come and take him away because we made him blue.” Leaving her to discuss the merits of blue babies with herself, he turned to Maggie, “your daughter manages to say ‘one night of the liquors does not a tolerant system make’ but can’t remember my name.” Sitting down at the table, “where the hell did she come from?”
“Fire sale at J.C. Penney.”
