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Title:         Men In Black Meet Cookie Monster
Author:        Lovesfox
E-mail:        lovesfox@rogers.com
Website:       www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating:        NC-17 (mild)
Category:      MSR, Smut (mild)
Spoilers:      None
Summary:       A homecoming, and Halloween 2003

Archive:       Gossamer and Ephemeral, yes...others, please
               ask

Disclaimer:    Mulder, Scully, TLG and William do not
               belong to me, they belong to Chris
               Carter and 1013 Productions.  I mean no
               harm.  Nor do I own MiB or Cookie Monster!

Thanks:        As always, to Nancy

Author's Note: This short story is a continuation of a
               universe I created in a longer story called
               The Eyes of a Child.  You do not have to
               read TEOAC in order to follow this one, but
               I'd love it if you did!  Just know that
               Mulder and Scully are together, and William
               is their son.  It diverts from the show just
               before This is Not Happening. 



Men In Black Meet Cookie Monster
by Lovesfox

***
Dulles Airport
October 30, 2003
8:20 PM


For once, his flight had been on time, and a discreet
flash of his FBI ID had helped to facilitate a shorter 
jaunt through Customs.  Because his consulting trip had 
been scheduled for a day and a half, he'd only had his 
carry-on bag which had remained with him onboard, thus 
eliminating the need to wait in baggage claim.

The drawback to this situation was that all his clothes
definitely had that lived-in look after his trip had 
unfortunately been extended to five days.

Mulder walked wearily through the smoky-glassed sliding
doors into the concourse, one thought and one thought only 
on his mind.  Getting home to his family, to Scully and
William.

Preoccupied with that thought, he was certain he was
hallucinating when a woman who looked exactly like Scully
rose from a chair in one of the lounge areas and started
walking towards him.  Blinking rapidly, he realized it
*was* Scully, and warmth spread through him.  He drank her 
image in -- his every sense parched from their separation.

Her hair was not in its usual sleek coif, but rather loose
and wavy, a look he found suited her equally, and softened
her appearance, and she was wearing the nearly floor-length
floral dress he had bought for her beneath her unbelted 
trench coat.  It flowed over her curves, clinging in just
the right places.  Her make-up was classically understated, 
her lips the color of ripe berries, and she was staring at 
him as he stared at her -- with unabashed love and lust.

As she neared him, he stuttered to a stop, his carry-on
falling from his suddenly lax hand to land with a dull 
thump.  Her last steps were quicker, and then she too was
stopping, directly in front of him, mere inches separating
their bodies. 

"Hi," she said, a little breathlessly, her cheeks flushing
slightly.

"Hi," he returned foolishly, feeling as if he were a teen
again, wanting to ask the girl of his dreams to the dance.

Coming up on tiptoe, she leaned in and pressed a quick
kiss to the corner of his mouth.  "Welcome home, Mulder."

She had stepped back by the time he thought to lean in 
and perhaps lengthen the kiss, so he instead bent over to
pick up his carry-on.  "And I'm very glad to be," he told 
her when he had straightened again, his bag firmly in his 
grip.  His free hand touched her elbow, started them 
forward.  "Where's William?" he asked.

"Uncle Fro volunteered the guys to watch him tonight, so
we could have some alone time," she replied, flicking a
sideways glance at him, the flush deepening.  "They're 
bringing him back at nine tomorrow morning," she added 
quickly.  "I hope you don't mind, I know you missed him 
too."

He did, of course, but by the time they got home, it would
have been William's bedtime anyway.  "It's nice to have
you all to myself," he told her, and she smiled.  

"Same goes," she returned in a soft voice, and then clearing 
her throat she told him, "The truck's not far."

***

Mulder/Scully Residence
9:00 PM


Inside the door, Mulder had just dropped his carry-on and 
was in the process of removing his leather jacket when 
Scully threw herself at him.  Her fingers wound through 
his hair to yank his head down, her coat and shoes already 
discarded.

Her kiss was hot and hungry, and tinged with desperation.
Nothing like the brief peck that he had received at the 
airport.  He returned it with enthusiasm and a desperation 
of his own.

When she finally released him, and slid back down to 
stand flat-footed, her hands now resting on his chest, 
she murmured, "God, I missed you, Mulder."

Freeing his arms finally, he shrugged his shoulders and
let his jacket fall to the floor.  He reached up to cup 
her face, leaning in as he gently pulled her forward.

Rubbing his nose on hers in a brief Eskimo kiss, he
confirmed, "It was a long five days without you." 

It hit him then that he was finally home, and with a
huge sigh, he hauled her against him in a bone-crushing
hug.  Her arms wrapped around him, snaking underneath 
his, and she returned his squeeze with an equal strength.

Scully let out a hum of contentment, nuzzling her cheek
against his chest, and he realized they were gently
swaying from side to side.  He dropped his chin so that
it rested on the top of her head, and let his eyes slip
shut, his hands slowly stroking up and down her back.

They stayed that way for a few long moments.

When he straightened at last, he brought one hand to
her jaw, tilting her chin up.  Leaning in, he trailed
his lips down her cheek to her mouth.

Her lips parted on a heavy sigh, her mint-scented
breath wafting over his face.  Eyes closing again, he
kissed her lightly before deepening the contact, his
tongue sliding into the warm recesses of her mouth.

Moaning, Scully slid her hands up to encircle his neck,
lifting herself up on tiptoe once again and pressing her
body full-length to his.    

Staggered by the intensity and passion of their kiss,
Mulder took a step back, taking Scully with him.  His
shoulders butted into the door with a painful 'whump'
that he ignored as she took advantage of this new 
position to begin undulating against him.

His pulse leapt, as did something else.

But despite their nearly two-week long abstinence, he
did not want to celebrate and consummate his homecoming
in the front foyer.  Not this time, anyway.

Breaking their embrace with reluctance, he murmured, 
"I think we should take this upstairs."  His thumb 
rubbed over her lips -- swollen and wet -- and she 
sighed, blinking languidly.

Then, as if a spell had suddenly been broken, she took 
command.  Spine straightening, she told him, "Go have 
a shower.  I'll take care of your things."

With that, she brushed past him and bent to retrieve 
his carry-on bag.  When she saw he was not moving, she 
gave him a quick slap on the ass.  "Upstairs, Mulder!"

He went upstairs.

***

The shower stall had more than enough room for two, but
Scully was crowded against his back, her arms wrapped
around him and her soapy hands swiping impatiently over 
his chest, almost roughly.  Her nails lightly scraped 
his nipples.

"Hey," he mock-protested, arousal humming through his
veins.  "Easy on the manhandling."

Her chuckle was low, and just this side of wicked.  "I
prefer to think of it as handling my man."  One of her
hands slid down his abdomen and grasped his burgeoning
cock.  "Don't you like to be...handled, Mulder?"

"Guhhhh," was his eloquent response, along with an
instinctive thrust into her hot, soapy fist.

She obliged by squeezing him lightly.  "Mulder," she
said conversationally, "if I keep doing this," and here
she explained 'this' by squeezing again, "are you going 
to be of any use to me?  I have plans that require all 
of your parts in working order."  Her tone was matter-
of-fact, not coy in the least.

A half-laugh/half-moan slipped past his lips.  Eyes
slamming shut, his hands came up, palms planting on the 
tile to brace his weight -- his legs were weak from her 
touch, and from the meaning behind her question.

Her thumb was tracing the sensitive ridge at the head
of his cock, and white lights began to dance on his
closed eyelids.  Through gritted teeth he warned, 
"Scully, it's been a long two weeks, if you'll recall, 
and I really want to have the stamina for what you have 
planned."

The week before his trip, both William and Scully had
been sick with colds, and she had not been up to any
extracurricular activities, despite her desire to the
contrary.  The spirit had been willing, the flesh had
not.

She hummed regretfully, but did not halt her teasing
ministrations.  In fact, she intensified them, her clever 
fingers gliding along his rigid flesh to cup and squeeze 
his balls.

"Scully," he hissed, drawing out the last syllable.
Pleasure was rippling through him in slow waves, his
pulse a frantic thrumming he could feel everywhere.

"I have faith in your stamina, Mulder," she purred, once 
again stroking along his length.

Shakily, Mulder told her, "I don't.  You're playing with 
fire."

"Mmmmm," she laughed into the skin of his back, the touch 
of her lips causing him to shiver.  "I'm not afraid of 
being burnt, Mulder."

"Ahhhhhh...."

Scully released him finally, after one last squeeze.
Becoming rather business-like, she told him, "Finish your 
shower," and stepped back to give him room.

Sucking in desperate lungfuls of air, he straightened up 
again -- having at some unknown point let his forehead 
drop to rest against the wall of the shower.  While he 
concentrated on breathing, Scully slipped past him and 
rinsed herself off.

Passing him once again, she murmured, "Don't be long,"
and exited the stall.

Bending slightly, Mulder reached down and turned the taps 
-- to ice cold.

***

Scully was not in the bathroom when he finally exited the 
shower, but the scent of her body lotion lingered in the 
air, sweet and seductive.  And despite his cold shower, 
that fragrance, combined with the fact that his brain had 
been working on a feverish overtime since her words about 
having use for all his parts, served to rejuvenate a 
particular body part he knew she was rather enamored with.

Grabbing his towel, he rubbed it over his head and then 
whisked it over his body.  The friction of the terrycloth's 
nubby texture further stimulated his sensitive and aroused 
flesh, serving to heighten his need, his excitement.

Breathing a little heavily, he wrapped the towel around 
his hips, and knotting it loosely, hastened to their 
bedroom.

Lit only by candles, the room was cast in shadows.  He did 
not see Scully immediately, instead hearing her voice, 
throaty and deep.

"Lose the towel, Mulder."  Her tone brooked no disobedience.

Smiling to himself, he let his fingers toy with the knot 
as he strutted to where he thought she was standing.  Only 
she was not there.

A whisper of sound, a rush of air, and then her voice came 
again, from directly behind him.  Close, but not touching.

"The towel, Mulder.  Now."

He loved Scully in all her connotations and moods, but had 
to admit a certain...fondness for this one.

Aggressive, demanding...horny.

Suddenly she was pressing herself against him from behind 
as she had in the shower, her fingers running teasingly 
along the edge of the towel.  She was not nude, cool silk 
touched his bare skin, but he was fairly certain that was 
the only barrier between their two bodies.  That, and his 
towel.

"Do you need some help, Mulder?"  Her voice was as silky
as the garment she wore, rich and sultry, carrying the
faintest hint of amusement.  "Having trouble following
simple commands?"

A subtle reminder of her order to remove his towel, he knew.  
One of her hands covered his, and she pushed downwards.

The towel fell.

Hands sliding to his hips, she gave him a nudge forward.
"Get on the bed."

This time he did her bidding without hesitation, arranging
himself so that he lay flat on his back in the center of
the mattress, limbs sprawled wide.

Scully was standing at the side of the bed, and he watched
in anticipation as she shed her short robe with a shrug
of her shoulders.

She placed a knee on the mattress and murmured, "Now for 
an early Halloween treat."  At his curious look, she added, 
"You," and crawled hungrily towards him.

***

Mulder/Scully Residence
October 31, 2003 (Halloween)
9:00 AM


The doorbell rang at precisely nine o'clock, and was followed
immediately by a series of sharp and familiar raps -- 'shave 
and a haircut, two bits'.  A Gunman favorite.

Smiling and shaking his head, Mulder loped out of the kitchen
and to the front door, hoping to get there before they started
any further knocking.  His delectable partner was still in bed,
having finagled the day off, as she had told him late the night 
before, and he had been hoping to surprise her by bringing 
William up to play alarm clock.

Yanking the door open just in time, he was confronted by
Langly's fist, inches from his nose.

"Dude," Langly greeted him as he lowered his hand, a smirk on
his face.  "Wouldn't want to make that nose any bigger."

"You're a laugh riot, Alice," Mulder returned, scanning the
suspiciously empty stoop behind the lone Gunman.  "Now where's 
my son?"  

Before Langly could reply, Mulder heard a spate of furious
whispering from somewhere off to the left of the blond man,
out of Mulder's range of sight.  One distinct little voice in
the melee made Mulder smile.

"Show Daddy!" he heard William say in his sweetly demanding
way, and wondered what his son wanted to show him.

A curious whistle sounded then, and it was clearly a cue for
Langly, who stepped to the right and turned sideways to look
behind him.

There was an awkward moment when absolutely nothing happened,
followed by Frohike's prompting, not quite a whisper, "Go 
show daddy, Big Guy."

William giggled, and then strutted into view.  And there was
no other word for it, the little boy definitely strutted.

Strutted in his perfectly-fitted black suit, white button-
down shirt and black tie, complete with black wingtips and 
black shades.  His fine reddish-blonde hair was slicked back, 
and pinned to one lapel was a little badge Mulder could not 
make out.  In one hand William held a miniature briefcase, 
black of course.

"Meet the latest Man in Black, Agent William," Langly said 
with obvious pride.  Two of the three Gunmen were obsessed 
with the Men in Black movies, while Byers would only admit 
that 'they were good.'

"Daddy!" William screeched and dropped the briefcase to run 
full tilt towards his father.  The shades fell off in the 
process of being lifted high up into the air and spun about, 
and he became a squealing, giggling little boy once again.

One who smelled of Byers' subtle aftershave, Mulder noted 
as he hugged William to his chest, burying his face in his 
son's neck.  After a few moments, William squirmed to be let 
down, though he remained plastered to Mulder's leg, one arm 
circling Mulder's knee.

"Little guy looks like an accountant now," Byers noted, 
adjusting his own necktie minutely.

"Or a Fibbie," Mulder joked, hand rising to ruffle his son's
hair, and halting just millimeters away, deciding the slicked
look would have to remain for the time being.

"Mini-Mulder!" Langly chortled.  The blond Gunman was also
a fan of the Austin Powers series, and had even gone through 
a thankfully brief period where he talked like Dr. Evil.

Frohike broke in with a laconic, "I'm rather partial to the 
moniker 'Fox Cub' myself."  The smirk he aimed at Mulder
needled the dig a little deeper.

"Watch it, Mel-vin," Mulder returned, putting emphasis on both
syllables.

"Mel-VIN!" piped in William with glee, hand smacking Mulder's
thigh for apparent emphasis.  "Mel-VIN!"

Frohike looked alarmed, and quickly crouched down in front of
Mulder, nose to nose with William.  "Hey, buddy," he said in
a mock-whisper.  "It's your Uncle Fro, remember?  Uncle Fro."

"Uncle Fwo!"  William dutifully repeated.

Sending Mulder a satisfied upwards glance, Frohike smiled and
told William, "Cookies later, okay, buddy?"

"Cookies!"  The voice was demanding this time.

Mulder shot Frohike a dirty look.  "Now you've done it, *Mel-
vin*.  Squirt here's going to be asking for cookies all morning
now."  His expression grew more evil.  "And you'll be the
one answering to Scully."

Frohike stood quickly, almost toppling over in his haste, and
backed away, hands held up in surrender.  "Actually, Mulder my
man, we've got things to do."  He tried a smile, which came
out more as a grimace.  "You'll have to pass on our greetings
to the lovely Agent Scully."

Mulder's grin was triumphant.  "Coward," he whispered at
Frohike and then laughed when the little man nodded emphatically.

The three Gunmen said their goodbyes to William, which included
high fives on the parts of Frohike and Langly, and Mulder waved
with William until their dilapidated van was no longer in sight.
Once inside with his son and his costume accessories in tow, he
closed and locked the door before turning to face William.

"Should we go wake Mommy?" he asked in hushed tones.

William nodded enthusiastically and grabbed for Mulder's hand,
his free hand pointing upstairs.

"Wait, William," he said to his son.  "Let's put your shades
on again, and show Mommy your costume from the Gunmen, okay?"

"'Kay."

Shades in place and briefcase in hand, William toddled up the
stairs after his father, having lately become very insistent
that he could walk up the stairs on his own.  

Mulder hesitated at the door to he and Scully's bedroom, 
putting his finger to his lips to warn William to be quiet.  
William mimicked the gesture, his cheeks apple-red from 
restrained giggles.  This was a familiar, loved game for the 
two of them -- to try and surprise Scully.  Sometimes they 
were successful, sometimes not, and sometimes Scully pretended 
for William's benefit.

As she was this time, Mulder realized the moment they popped 
inside, with William yelling, "Mornin', Mama!" once they 
were through the door.  They had noticed that after more than 
a few hours away from Scully, William reverted to using the 
more babyish-sounding 'Mama' as opposed to his usual 'Mommy'.  

It was the telltale way Scully had her head buried in her 
pillow that tended to give her away, though Mulder had not 
told her this little tidbit.  He was keeping that information 
close to his chest, in case it ever became useful.

Scully rolled over with a mock-sleepy yawn and stretch, and
smiled wide when she saw William.

The smile grew even wider as she took in his attire fully.

"He looks so much like you, Mulder!" she exclaimed, her hand 
going to her mouth as she grew misty-eyed.  "You have to put 
your black suit on so we can get a picture."

Personally, he thought William took after Scully more than
himself, but both Scully and Maggie Scully insisted there
was quite a bit of Mulder in the little boy as well.  And not
just the stubbornness and mannerisms, either.

"The Gunmen put it together," Mulder informed her, coming to
sit on the edge of the bed, near her hip.  They watched as
William practiced the moves his 'uncles' had clearly taught
him.  "Isn't it great?"

"It is," she agreed, laughing at their son's antics.  She
sobered suddenly though, a frown taking over.  "My mother
made him his costume though, Mulder.  I think she'd be hurt
if he didn't wear it, I know she put a lot of time into it."

Oh.  He remembered now that Scully had mentioned something 
in the blur of the previous night -- two bouts of nookie 
throughout the midnight hours, followed by some tender, 
morning loving before his six o'clock run.

"It's the Cookie Monster," Scully continued, "and it's the 
most adorable costume I have ever seen."  Her eyes flicked
from William to Mulder.  "I hadn't shown it to him yet, so
maybe..."

Mulder reached out and touched his fingers softly to her lips, 
halting the offer he knew she was about to make.  "I've got 
an idea," he said.  "How about he wears the Cookie Monster 
costume to his day-care Halloween party, and this get-up out 
for trick-or-treating?"

"Cookie!" William shouted then, having approached while they
were intent on their discussion, and clearly having heard the
magic word once again.

"Did I mention how fitting the Cookie Monster costume is?"
Mulder quipped with a grin to Scully.  Their son was a 
notorious cookie lover, not to mention quite adept at 
conniving people into giving them to him.  Reaching out, 
Mulder carefully lifted William onto the bed with them, 
mindful of the boy's shoe-clad feet as he swung him over 
Scully's body.

Scully returned the smile and nodded.  "My mother and I 
thought so too."  She received a sloppy morning kiss from 
William, and then her smile turned to a frown as she reached 
up to stroke William's head.  She had encountered slicked-
back hair, and now pulled her hand back before making much 
contact.  "Your idea is an excellent one, Mulder.  Done."

Mulder leaned over to kiss her quickly, catching the faint 
hint of minty toothpaste, another clue she had already been 
up, before scooping William up once more.  "Come on, big 
guy," he said to William.  "Let's go make Mommy breakfast 
while she has her shower, okay?"

"Bweakfast!" was William's ringing endorsement, loudly shouted
in Mulder's ear.  This was followed by an equal advocacy of, 
"Cookies!"

Shaking his head and laughing, Mulder blew a kiss at Scully 
over his shoulder and headed out the door.

***

Mulder/Scully Residence
October 31, 2003 (Halloween)
2:30 PM


Whistling softly under his breath, Mulder descended the stairs
and headed to the kitchen in search of Scully.  William was out 
like a light for a later-than-usual afternoon nap, thanks to an 
extra-long, and very vigorous and energetic Halloween party at 
his daycare.

A party that had gone very well, he thought with a fond smile
of remembrance.  The Cookie Monster costume had been an original,
and a smashing hit.  Though the Men in Black costume would also
have been a one-of-a-kind costume as well.  But maybe not as
appreciated by the other parents and children.  

Scully was there as he had suspected, seated at the kitchen 
table, a scalpel held carefully in one hand.  Her face was 
scrunched up in concentration, her hair pinned untidily back, 
with strands wildly escaping their confines.  In a sexy way, 
of course.  A capped marker was gripped in one side of her 
mouth.

Before her, on several layers of newspaper, rested their pumpkin,
a giant of a specimen he had been lucky to find still hanging
around on Halloween Day itself, earlier that morning.

"You know, Scully," he began, and despite the softness of his
tone, she jumped slightly, having obviously been quite unaware 
of his entrance.  "Sorry," he apologized.  "Thought you would 
have heard me."  He had been accused in the past of sounding 
like a herd of elephants when coming down the stairs.

She shook her head, and made a 'mmmmfff' noise that Mulder 
interpreted as asking him to take the marker out of her mouth 
for her, which he did.

"Thanks," she said, and smiled at him.  "William asleep?"

Grabbing the chair to her left, he lifted it and brought it to
rest beside hers, taking a seat.  "Yep.  Don't think we'll hear
from him for at least a couple hours."  He leaned to the right
and nudged her with his shoulder.  "Takes after his mother that
way, you know."

She merely grinned, totally unoffended.  "You're just jealous
we can sleep that well," she teased.  She found it vastly 
amusing that he could not stay in bed past six o'clock in the 
morning, if he retired at a regular hour of night.  Thankfully 
his insomnia was a thing of the past, and though they both 
suffered from the occasional nightmare, neither suffered serious 
lack of sleep from them.

There was a moment of companionable silence, and then Mulder
recalled what he had been about to say before he had been led
off-track.

"You know, Scully," he tried again, fighting the urge to smile.  
"I know it's your forte, but it's pretty morbid that you're 
using a scalpel to carve our son's pumpkin, don't you think?"

She sent him a smirk.  "Feeling queasy?"

"Don't go there, woman," he mock-warned, shaking his finger at 
her.

Sniffing prissily, she reminded him, "I've told you before that 
I can get a more accurate carving with my scalpel."  She had
made sure to inform him when she had pulled out the scalpel for 
last year's pumpkin that it was brand new, which had been a 
relief.

"I know, I know," he returned, the smile emerging at last. "Just 
like teasing you."

"I'm well aware of that, Mulder.  But a man who gets squeamish
over pumpkin innards really shouldn't tease a scalpel-wielding
woman, you know."

He shuddered.  He hated the slimy, slippery feel of the pulpy
orange strands winding about his fingers and wrist.  "They're 
disgusting, Scully!"

"I've noticed you certainly don't mind eating the seeds though,"
she commented archly.  "I think for all my work, those seeds 
should be mine."

That wouldn't be fun.  He loved roasted pumpkin seeds almost
as much as he loved sunflower seeds.  Eyeing her speculatively,
and recalling the fact that their son would not wake for quite
some time, he murmured, "How about I work my share off in 
trade?"

Her look was slightly suspicious; he had a habit of wrangling
out of such deals.  But he had no intentions of doing so for
this one, it would be a win-win situation for them both.

Rising from his chair and pushing it aside with one foot, he
moved to stand behind Scully.  He rested his hands on her
shoulders and began to massage gently.  She relaxed in gradual
stages, sighing softly, and her head slowly fell forward, 
baring her nape to his gaze.

Bending down, he grazed his lips over the highly sensitive
skin, and both saw and felt her shiver.  He pulled back 
slightly, smiling triumphantly, and made his pitch, his voice 
low and husky.

"Ever do it with a pumpkin watching you, Scully?"

***

The End

feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com