RATING: PG-13
KEYWORDS: MSM
CLASSIFICATION: V
DISCLAIMER: Not mine; the X-Files belong to CC, FOX, etc.
Notes: This story is a sequel to "
First Comes Love," and "
Then Comes Marriage" (which should actually be read in the reverse order, just to confuse you), although it can also be read on its own. Just a nice piece of fluff to finish out the trilogy.
* * * * *
As soon as she walked in the door of their apartment, Scully immediately knew something was wrong. First, it smelled like Pine-Sol. That meant Mulder had been cleaning, and Mulder never cleaned unless he was cleaning something up, usually a large mess that involved breakage or stains that would never come out.
Second, a box of her favorite Tofutti chocolate fudge bars was defrosting on the table, next to a bag of her favorite mini rice cakes and a large head of cauliflower. Mulder hated that stuff--all of it--and would rather be caught buying a box of tampons for her than anything nonfat or healthy.
Third, said partner and husband was standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands behind his back and a too-cheery grin on his face. And after a few moments of inane babble that began with, "Honey! I'm so glad you're home! Did you have a good time with your mother? And how is she, by the way?..."--met only by Scully's I-can-see-right-through-your-little-ruse glare--he finally ended with, "Now, Scully, I want you to keep an open mind."
She let loose a long-suffering sigh and decided to head straight for the fudgesicles. It was obvious she was going to need one, or maybe two, to get her through his explanation. And equally apparent that in his haste to cover his tracks, he was ignoring the "frozen" part of frozen treats and letting the chocolate delights melt so that they would likely end up a box full of resolidified misshapen lumps.
Mulder had gone silent, not yet launching into whatever creative narrative would require her to keep an open mind. He was probably waiting for some reaction from her, or surprised that she was so easily distracted by his offerings on the table. But if she was going to endure whatever was coming, the least she could do was get comfortable first and soothe herself with chocolate.
Ripping open the cellophane wrapper on her chosen fudgesicle, Scully plopped herself down in a chair at the kitchen table--and squeaked. Or at least, something had squeaked. She immediately jumped up from the seat to see what she had sat on, but the chair was empty.
She heard the noise again. It was coming from behind Mulder.
"Mulder..."
"Scully, I can explain," he started. But before he had a chance to finish, a small, brown ball of fur leapt out from behind his back and darted across the room.
"Mulder?"
But he was too busy chasing after the fur ball to answer her.
"Pup! C'mere, pup! C'mon, now, no hide and seek." He got on his hands and knees to look under the couch--giving Scully a fine view of his ass, if only she were in the mood to appreciate it right now--and came up a moment later with the little ball of fur held tightly in his hands.
"Oh, Mulder, what have you done?"
"Open mind--remember, Scully?"
She tossed the fudgesicle in the sink before the drops running down the stick reached her fingers. She didn't have much appetite for it anymore.
"A puppy, Mulder? Please tell me you're just babysitting it for a friend and will be returning it within the hour."
"I thought you liked dogs, especially the cute, little ones." He held up the puppy next to his face, so they were both looking at her with identical puppy-dog eyes. "And this one's definitely cute, isn't he, Scully?"
Damn him. He knew she couldn't resist his puppy-dog look. Now she was doubly in trouble.
"He?" she asked.
At the hopeful note of acceptance she offered, he perked right up. "Yes, it's a he. Or rather, he's a he. But I haven't named him yet. I thought maybe you'd like to do the honors."
"Mulder, why on earth did you get a puppy? Do you have any idea how much work they are?"
"But, Scully, he needed us," he said dramatically. "He was so sad and lonely, and I couldn't leave him to a poor and miserable fate."
"What are you talking about?"
He sighed, and dropped the act. "You know Mason, in White-Collar Crimes? His dog had a huge litter of puppies, and he's had problems finding homes for them all. He brought three with him to our pickup game this morning. This poor little guy was the last one left. Nobody else wanted him." He put the dog back up next to his face, so they were both staring at her again. "And he was looking up at me with these sad, pitiful eyes, and I couldn't leave him there all alone."
Two sets of sad, pitiful eyes were watching her, waiting for her response.
"Oh, Mulder." She reached out for the puppy, and he readily handed it over. She had to admit--but only to herself, because she couldn't let Mulder know yet how easily he was persuading her--that the puppy was cute. Well, that was until she felt something warm and wet begin to trickle down her arm.
She quickly held the puppy out from her and watched the stream of urine dribble onto the floor. At least she was still standing on the tiles.
Mulder winced and took the puppy from her hands. "Um, did I mention he isn't housebroken yet?"
* * *
By mid-afternoon, Scully was convinced, Mulder was duly chastened, and the puppy was exhausted from play. The dog was curled up on an old pillow that she was willing to sacrifice for the cause, sleeping soundly and looking utterly adorable. Stretched out on the floor next to the pillow--Scully on her belly, Mulder on his side--the partners lay quietly watching the newest member of their family.
"So, what kind of dog is he?" Scully asked.
"A little baby dog."
She rolled her eyes. "I mean, what breed?"
"I don't know. A chocolate Lab, maybe? He looks chocolate-colored to me."
"Mulder, this kind of information is important. You need to call Mason and find out." She stroked a finger over the puppy's ear and watched it twitch. "He's probably some kind of a mixed breed or they would've had an easier time selling them. Besides, aren't Labrador puppies bigger?"
"I think this one's the runt of the litter. That's why no one wanted him. But we both know size doesn't matter, right, Scully?"
She ignored his comment, which she knew was a jab at her height, since size wasn't something that he had to worry about. "Do you know how old he is? Or whether he's had all of his shots?"
"Um, no?" Before she had a chance to reprimand him, he jumped to his feet and said, "I think I'll call Mason."
"Good idea." She mumbled after his retreating back, "I wonder why I didn't think of that?"
Scully was still on the floor, trying not to melt into a pile of goo over the puppy's cuteness, when Mulder returned. He plopped down beside her, on his stomach.
"No one was home, but I left a message."
"You know," she said, "if he really is a Lab, I don't think we'll be able to keep him in this apartment. He's going to be too big."
"What, is that in the CC&Rs?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, Mulder, it's in my lease. Not to mention the pet deposit we'll have to pay."
"Well, maybe it's time to get that house we've been talking about. With a nice big yard for Junior to run around and play in."
A house--he'd been pushing for it, but she'd been dragging her heels. She spent most of her childhood moving, hated it with a passion, and vowed never to do it again when she moved into this apartment.
She eyed him suspiciously. "Mulder, you didn't get a dog just so I'd agree to buy a house, did you?"
He squirmed and looked away. "No. But if it works, I'm not complaining."
She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself how much she loved him.
"So, what are we going to call him?" he asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.
"You just referred to him as Junior." Mock innocently, she asked, "Does that mean you want to name him Fox?"
He gave her a sideways glare and muttered, "It's a better name for a dog, anyway."
"Poor Fox." She petted Mulder's head and kissed him on the cheek to make up for her teasing. "We could call him Hound."
"So I can put up with "The Fox and the Hound" jokes? No thank you."
She grinned, pleased with herself, then decided to stop the teasing and offer some serious suggestions. She took a breath to speak, but Mulder preempted her.
"Not Ishmael."
So much for literary references.
* * *
Scully declared that the puppy was officially Mulder's responsibility (she knew how long that was likely to last) and sent him to the pet store to buy supplies while the puppy was still sleeping. He came back with a ridiculous armload, and then some, full of leashes, bones, toys, carrier, dog bed, and so on--everything but puppy chow.
"He can eat table scraps," Mulder said.
"No, he can't. Puppies need a special diet. And besides, I don't want him to get used to eating our food. We'll never convince him to eat dog food."
"Can you blame him? The stuff that comes out of a can looks like shit. I bet it tastes like it too."
She was beginning to wonder which one of them would be more work, the puppy or Mulder.
While Mulder got the dog settled into his new bed (for which, thankfully, he had bought training pads), Scully went out to buy proper puppy food. She also called her mother from her cell phone to whine and get a little moral support. But her mother was no help; she was just excited to have a new grandpuppy.
"You might not be so excited after you puppysit," Scully warned, "especially if he's not housebroken. And don't forget, we go out of town. A lot."
"That's what kennels are for, dear." And that was the extent of Maggie's motherly advice.
* * *
When Scully got home from the store, she found Mulder sitting on the couch, cradling the puppy like a baby and rocking him back and forth.
"I'm not sure you want that thing pointed up at your face," she said, nodding toward the dog's exposed underbelly, and other bits.
He quickly grabbed the towel next to him and covered the puppy's belly, then tried to act nonchalant about it.
She dropped off the bags in the kitchen and came over to sit next to him.
"Mulder, what are you doing?"
"I'm rocking him to sleep. I wore him out, testing out his new toys."
Scully didn't think dogs usually fell asleep in this position, although the puppy didn't seem to mind it.
"He's a dog, not a baby."
"He's *our* baby."
She decided to bypass that remark. "We still haven't picked a name. We have to call him something."
"'Something,'" he pretended to test out the name. "Nah, it doesn't have the right ring to it."
She jabbed him in the side and ignored his protest of pain. "You had a dog when you were a kid, didn't you? What was its name?"
"Junior."
"Oh." So that's where that came from.
"We could call him Baby."
"Or, we could call him Dog," she countered.
"Scully, you're so unoriginal."
* * *
It was a good thing the next day was Sunday, because it gave them one more day to figure out what they were going to do with the puppy while they were both at work. Scully's mother stopped by to visit her new grandpuppy, but still couldn't be convinced to dogsit. It might be a moot point anyway, Scully realized. Mulder was so enamored with his new buddy that she wondered if he could be pried away to go to work on Monday.
By late afternoon, the dog was napping in his bed, and Mulder was engrossed in the Knicks game, so Scully decided to seize the opportunity and relax in the bath. While the tub was filling, she laid out her clothes on the bed and put on her robe. One of the dog's toys was lying on the comforter; she tossed it on the floor and made a mental note to establish a rule about that later.
Scully stayed in the tub until her fingers wrinkled and the water turned cool. The only noise in the apartment was the distant drone of the TV. As she exited the bathroom, she saw that Mulder was still watching the game. While she ran through a mental checklist of what they had in the fridge for dinner options, she grabbed a pair of clean panties from the dresser and then turned toward the bed to put on the clothes she had laid out. But something seemed to be missing.
After a few minutes of searching around the bedroom, she wandered out to the living room.
"Mulder, have you seen my--" But she was brought up short when her eyes landed on the very thing she sought. She started to cry out in exasperation--but it's hard address someone when they don't have a name.
"Hey--you--" she sputtered. She finally settled for, "Dog!"
"Wha--?" Mulder's attention was pulled away from the game. He looked up at Scully, and then turned toward where she was staring in rage and disbelief: at the puppy sitting by his feet--chewing on her bra.
Mulder snickered. "At least he's got good taste."
She snatched away the bra. "Then that doesn't explain your running shoe."
"What?"
She pointed toward the shoe she saw jutting out from beneath the couch, looking just as gnawed and slobbery as her lingerie.
"Oh, Puppy!" Mulder whined in dismay.
Scully sighed. "I guess he's teething."
It was going to be a long few weeks.
* * *
Face washed and teeth brushed, Scully emerged from the bathroom ready for bed. Last she had seen of Mulder, that's where he was headed, so she was surprised to find the bedroom empty. She discovered him on the couch, once again cradling the puppy in his arms.
"Rocking him to sleep?" she asked, trying not to sound too amused.
"Well, you won't let him sleep in the bedroom, so I had to say goodnight out here."
"I'm not sure I'll let him anywhere near the bedroom after the stunt he pulled earlier."
"Or the bathroom, or the kitchen..."
"Oh, stop." She leaned in close and put her chin on his shoulder to look down at the sleeping puppy. Mulder paused his gentle rocking. "We still haven't named him."
"Yeah, we need something for you to call him when you're yelling at him." But he said it good-naturedly, so she let it pass.
"Are you going to rock him to sleep like that every night?" she asked.
"Yep." He said in his best cartoon voice, "'I'll love him, and squeeze him, and pet him, and hug him, and call him George.' Hey--George! That's a good name. Why don't we call him that?"
"Seriously?" He nodded. "Well, I suppose it's as good a name as any."
"By George, I think we've got it!"
Scully groaned. "Goodnight, Mulder." Getting up from the couch, she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. As an afterthought, she kissed the puppy too. "Goodnight, George."
One thing was for certain: every day with Mulder was a new adventure. And she was sure that George would add plenty adventures of his own. Hopefully not too many of them would involve her undergarments.
*****
*****
Notes: I haven't written much fanfic lately, and I wanted to get back into writing but wasn't much inspired to work on the stories that I need to finish. This story idea was finally the one that inspired me, so I'm just happy to know that I've still got it in me to write fic! Let's hope this opens the floodgates.
Send feedback to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com
