Black Cherry Velvet by Michelle Kiefer (Haven Challenge fic)Title:   Black Cherry Velvet
Author:  Michelle Kiefer 
Email: msk1024@aol.com  
Category:  Bridesmaid Fic (another guilty pleasure) 
Timeline: Takes place just before Millennium.
Rating: R
Classification: MSR, Story
Archive:  Sure.  Just let me know.
Disclaimer:  Not mine. 
Summary:  Someday, when I'm awf'ly low
          And the world is cold,
          I will feel a glow just thinking of you
          And the way you look tonight.
COMMENTS: Please visit my other stories at: 
http://members.aol.com/msrsmut/MichelleKiefer.htm 
Maintained by the wonderful Jennifer.
Written for the Haven December Challenge.  
Author's Notes at end


Black Cherry Velvet


"I swear to God, Mulder, if I'm late for this wedding, you're a 
dead man."

A streetlight still burned in the early morning gloom; snowflakes 
appeared to be trapped in its beam.  Scully's cheeks were pink, 
either from the cold or from irritation.  Whatever the cause, it 
was a good look on her.

"And a good morning to you, Scully," he said, taking the suitcase 
from her hand and stowing it in the trunk of his car.  Scully hung
a zippered dress bag from the hook in the back seat, smoothing it 
over the seat carefully.  "I said I was sorry.  I don't know what
else to say."

"Don't say anything," she snapped, as she got into the car. 

He couldn't blame her, really.  The case that caused Scully to 
miss her flight to Boston had turned out to have a completely 
non-paranormal explanation, just as Scully had insisted it 
would.  One would think being right for a change would have 
put her in a better mood.

"We'll get there in plenty of time, Scully."

"It's snowing," she said, jerking her chin at the windshield. 

"Oh, is that what those white flakes were.  You worry too 
much, Scully.  It isn't healthy," he said, ready to duck
if she threw a punch.  Doctors were notoriously bad at accepting
health advice.  "You need to relax.  I promise, even with the
snow, I'll have you in Boston on time."

That was the whole point of his driving her to Boston, wasn't it?
She'd been up most of the night doing the autopsy proving Harvey 
Kissel had died of natural, albeit somewhat odd causes.

"Dammit Mulder," she'd complained.  "I've looked forward to this 
for months, and now I'll be so tired by the time I get to the 
wedding, I probably won't be able to stay awake."

Only days away from Christmas, she hadn't been able to get a 
later flight.   So, he'd done what he could to remedy the 
situation, renting a car and picking Scully up at 5 a.m. for 
the seven-hour drive to Boston.  

"Go to sleep, Scully," he suggested.  She leveled a sour look
his way, but settled back against the headrest and closed her
eyes.  The car was warm from the drive to her apartment.  It
was going to be a long ride, so he unbuttoned his coat and tried
to get comfortable.

Georgetown's streets were quiet on an early Saturday morning, 
the residents asleep.  Only government employees traveling to out 
of town weddings seemed to venture out in the light snow.

Mulder glanced at Scully after he'd pulled the car onto the
highway.  Her face was turned toward him, affording him a 
glimpse of creamy white neck above the collar of her coat.  
Her lips were slightly pursed, and it took all of his 
willpower not to lean over and press a kiss to their 
fullness.

He really did feel like a shit.  Scully rarely asked for 
time off.  Mulder was pretty sure she hadn't taken a vacation
since the nightmare trip to San Diego.  His heart still hurt
when he remembered her pain.

So, he should have been more aware this year.  Scully had 
requested leave around Christmas to act as maid of honor in 
an old friend's wedding, a position she seemed genuinely 
'honored' to accept.  Of course, that only made missing her 
flight a bigger catastrophe.

"I had it all planned, Mulder.  I was supposed to get 
there in time for all the fun things.  Maureen and I had  
appointments at the hotel beauty spa to have our hair and 
nails done.  We haven't seen each other in a couple of 
years and were going to luxuriate and catch up.  And then 
there was the rehearsal dinner.  Do you know how bad I 
felt telling Maureen I was going to miss all that?  And 
for nothing."

He had no retort for that.  He'd been convinced this case
was paranormal, blinding him to any other possibility.
Harvey Kissell's body had been found in a wooded area where
people had been found wandering over the years--people who 
claimed to be alien abductees.  Mulder had been convinced
the section of West Virginia forest was a "return" spot.

The undetermined cause of death for Kissell had sent up 
red flags to Mulder.  The body had no apparent trauma, no
sign of what had killed the man.  There were classic abduction
indicators: inside out clothing, a history of disappearances.
Mulder had been sure the location was the key, and insisted 
they investigate.   

"It was an aneurysm, Mulder.  Nothing to do with aliens.  
The fingerprints on Mr. Kissell's coat buttons didn't 
belong to him and were at the wrong angle for him to have 
dressed himself. I've sent them off for analysis, but I 
suspect they are not Mrs. Kissell's."

"You think he had the aneurysm while..."

"In the act?  Yes, and whoever he was with must have panicked 
and dressed him.  He was dumped, all right, but not by any 
aliens.  Unless they have fingerprints.  Apparently Mr. 
Kissell's occasional disappearances had less to do with 
aliens and more to do with infidelity."

By the time they'd gotten back to Washington, Scully had 
missed her flight and was furious.  She'd slammed out of the
car, stomping up to her apartment to get ready for a long drive.

Mulder usually ignored Scully's snits.  Lord knows she had 
enough of them.  The woman could get testy.  Sometimes he 
thought she argued more out of habit than true disagreement.  

Something had told him this was different.  So he wearily 
climbed out of the car and followed her up to her apartment.   
She'd been so flustered; she hadn't closed the door completely.  
As he pushed it open, he heard her talking on the phone.

"I feel terrible, Mo," she said into the receiver, as she walked
around her bedroom, tossing things into her overnight bag.  
"I know, I know.  I'm leaving as soon as I finish packing."

Scully had looked up as Mulder entered the room, her eyes 
snapping with agitation.  He tried to get her attention as 
she continued to talk on the phone. "I can't wait, really.  
I miss you too."

Finally, he managed to catch her eye.  "I'll drive to Boston.
You can sleep on the way."  

She'd shaken her head, hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.
"You don't have to do that."  

Eventually, she'd come around and agreed to let him assuage 
his guilt and drive her.  Her friend had been very gracious, 
extending an emergency invitation to Mulder, who'd never been 
so happy to have his best suit freshly back from the cleaners.

The car sliced through the swirling powder of snow.  Scully 
sighed in her sleep, nestling further into her coat.  The 
tiniest smile played across her lips.  Mulder wondered if she
was having a good dream.  He wished dearly for Scully to have
nothing but pleasant dreams.  If he had a pipeline to whoever 
granted wishes, he'd go for broke and ask that she had good 
dreams about him.  And that she'd smile.

He'd been in love with her for a long time, so long, in fact,
he couldn't put his finger on the very moment he'd known
it.  It was sometime after their first handshake.  By the time
he'd put his arms around her to teach her how to hit a baseball,
he'd been a totally smitten man.  Now, he just had to figure 
out what to do about it.

Not that the decision to move their relationship to a new
level was his alone.  But he sensed changes in Scully: an
openness, a calm about her, which told him she wanted more.
She guarded her emotions closely, so the clues were very 
subtle.  He only had to remember the sound of her 
laughter, and how she'd melted into his embrace on the 
baseball field and his doubts vanished.  

And then there was the day in his hallway when her eyes
had filled with tears and they told each other what was
in their hearts.   In truth, their words had been a sort 
of marriage vow.

Scully woke as they crossed the Delaware Bridge, letting
loose the world's sexiest yawn.  She blinked sleepily at
the watery sunlight and peered out the window at the water 
below.

"It's still snowing," she said, her voice drowsy.

"You should try to sleep some more, Scully," he suggested.  
"We're only half way there."

"It's okay.  I'm awake now," she replied, straightening her
coat.  "Do you want me to drive for a while?"

"I'm not even tired, Scully.  We're making pretty good time."

He pulled into a highway rest stop for a pit stop and fast 
food breakfast.  Scully managed to find something healthy 
amidst the fried egg sandwiches and breakfast burritos. 
Back on the road, he sipped his coffee and watched Scully
warm her hands around her paper cup.  

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully said softly.

"Why should you be sorry?  I'm the one who made you miss your
flight."

"The case made me miss my flight.  It was a legitimate case
and we needed to be there.  It wasn't anyone's fault this 
case came up just before Maureen's wedding.  I just wish..."

"What do you wish?"  God, why was he so afraid of what she
might say.  

"I wish...I wish we could make plans and have some expectation
they'd come to fruition.   But that isn't the nature of 
what we do, so it's better not to wish for something one 
can't have, I suppose.  Still, wouldn't it be nice to book
a vacation someplace warm and sunny and know we wouldn't get
called out when some squid-monster decides to start inking
people to death?"

He laughed, picturing squid-monster victims.   A warm, 
happy feeling came over him, as he realized she might 
possibly be thinking of them as a vacation-going unit.

"So tell me about Maureen," he said, hoping to distract
himself from images of a bikini-clad Scully lounging on a 
beach towel.

Scully appeared to think for a minute, smiling to herself.
She turned that smile on him, and he was sure his heart 
would explode in his chest.

"Okay.  We moved to Pensacola when I was ten.  I didn't 
have an easy time making friends when I was young.  We moved
so much when I was a kid.  It felt like as soon as I made 
friends, I'd come home to find my mother packing.  So, it's 
the first day of seventh grade, and I'm determined not to 
get close to anyone."

"Okay.   Where does Maureen fit in?" he asked.  He 
wanted to keep her talking.  He probably knew Scully
better than anyone, maybe even better than her own mother,
and yet she still puzzled him.  

"A week into the school year, and this gangly stringbean 
of a girl plants herself in my path and announces 
that she's going to be my best friend.  She had twice as
many freckles and was a foot taller than me--my father
called us Mutt and Jeff.  Life was never the same after 
that day."

"I'm trying to imagine the seventh grade Dana Scully."

"Oh, I was quite a picture," she said, grimacing.  "The
shortest girl in the class, chubby, the aforementioned 
freckles and a mouth full of braces.  Factor in Little 
Orphan Annie hair, and you pretty much have the seventh 
grade experience.  I don't know if I would have survived 
without Maureen.

"She was a force to be reckoned with.  She'd stand up to
the school bullies, literally staring them down.  I
remember the time my brother Bill got a hold of my 
diary.  I was mortified because I'd written about the 
crush I had on one of his friends.  I'm not sure how she 
did it, but the next thing I know, Maureen brought me the 
diary.  Bill gave her a wide berth after that."

"I already like her," he said, grinning.

"She was my kindred spirit.  The other girls would talk 
about nothing but boys and hair styles, but Maureen and
I were talking about what we wanted out of life."  Scully
tossed her head back and snorted a little laugh.  "We 
became partners in rebellion."

"Rebelling against what?" he asked, laughing.   

"Oh, the Navy way.  I went through this period when I was
eleven or so, when I decided there had to be more to life 
than being left behind when the men shipped out."  Scully
shook her head at the memory.  "Military life can be a little 
stifling.  Attitudes lag twenty years behind the rest of the 
country, and roles are very strictly defined.  I wanted things 
the Navy way of life said I shouldn't want."

"Like joining the FBI?"

"Among other things, but yeah, taking a dangerous job--a 
man's job.  I'm afraid my father never understood."

"And Maureen shared this rebellion?" he asked, shooting
her a sidelong smile.  

"Definitely.   Her dad was career Navy like Ahab, and if 
anything, her family was more paternalistic than ours.   
Maureen wanted to be an astronaut.  Her family laughed 
at her.  My family didn't exactly laugh at my ambition
to be a doctor, but even before the FBI issue, my parents 
thought pathology was...unsuitable.  They'd have been much
happier if I had become a pediatrician."

"So, did Maureen become an astronaut?"

"No," Scully smiled and shook her head.   "It turned out
math and science were not her forte.  She's an Assistant 
District Attorney in Boston.  Her fiance is a detective on 
the police force."
  
"Sounds like a marriage made in heaven."

"In some ways, I guess.  They're on the same side of the 
legal fence.  Jimmy and Maureen are both Irish Catholic.  
But from what Maureen has said, I think they've spent most 
of the last five years arguing over cases.  Jimmy is very 
much a 'do whatever you have to' type of cop.  Maureen is 
totally by the book.  They're definitely at odds, 
professionally."

"You've kept up with her all these years?"

"On and off.  We're both so busy...sometimes a year would 
go by and we wouldn't talk.  But when she called and said 
she was getting married, I knew I had to be there for her."

"So, what precipitated the change from adversaries to 
wedding bells?"

"I'm not entirely sure.  Maureen has always been so 
independent.  I wondered if she would ever unbend enough to 
accept another person in her life."  Scully paused, taking 
a sip of coffee before continuing. "About a year ago, she 
emailed that Jimmy had been wounded in the line of duty.  
She needed reassurance he was getting good care."

"He's all right?"

"Full recovery.  It was a little dicey in the beginning, but 
he's fine now."

Scully watched the passing scenery, obviously lost in thought.  
Mulder hoped the window into her past would stay open, giving
him a view into this complex woman.  But Scully seemed to 
have closed back up.  

The snow had followed them north, becoming heavier as the 
morning wore on.  Mulder needed to concentrate as the road 
became slippery and traffic slowed.  Scully's eyes strayed to
the dashboard clock, and he knew she was mentally calculating
the distance left to travel and the number on the speedometer.

The going was much slower as they crossed over into Massachusetts.
It was nearly two o'clock when they pulled up at the Tremont
Hotel.  The valet opened Scully's door, extending a hand to help
her out, but she climbed out of the car under her own steam. 

Carrying her dress bag as if it was a precious work of art, 
Scully entered the lobby.  Mulder followed, carrying her 
suitcase, his garment bag slung across his shoulder.  The
Tremont was not somewhere they would stay for work, where the
FBI budget dictated more modest accommodations.  The lobby felt
old and exclusive, with warm mahogany and leather sofas.

They crossed the elegant lobby, and Scully checked her watch.
"Well, we've got a little over an hour before we need to
go to the church.  Thank you, Mulder.  You promised to have me
here in time, and you did."

Scully approached the reception desk and was given her room key.
There was one room left in the section Maureen had reserved for
her out-of-town guests.  Mulder signed the register card and 
provided his credit card, glad he would be a few doors 
from Scully.

"Ms. Haggerty will glad you've arrived," the desk clerk said.  
"She's been calling down to the desk every five minutes."

"Could you let her know we're here?" Scully asked.  She and Mulder
proceeded to the bank of elevators and went up to their floor.  
As they located their rooms, one door a few feet down the hall 
burst open.

"Dana!  Thank God!  I was worried you wouldn't make it."  

The statuesque woman rushing into the hall no longer resembled
the freckle-faced, gangly girl Scully had described.  Maureen 
Haggerty wore a button down white shirt, jeans and sandals.  Her
hair was arranged in curls and tendrils, her finger and toe nails
painted a soft pink, evidence of the day of pampering Scully 
missed.  

The women embraced carefully, Scully holding her dress out to
avoid crushing it.  She reached up to lightly touch the creamy 
roses and baby's breath woven into Maureen's hair.  

"Oh God, Mo.  You look gorgeous."

"Almost time to put on my dress," Maureen said.  "I'm so nervous.
But I feel so much better, now that you're here."

"I can't wait to see you dressed in your gown.  I'll come and 
help you as soon as I drop these off in my room."

"Don't worry about it Dana.  My mom is dressed and will help me.
You need to get ready yourself."

"Oh, look at the time!" Scully exclaimed, looking at her watch.
"I'd better get moving."

Mulder placed her suitcase on the floor by her door, and Scully
turned around.  

"How rude of me," she said, drawing him forward.  "Mo, this is
my partner Fox Mulder.  Mulder, I'd like you to meet Maureen
Haggarty."

"Thank you so much for driving Dana here," Maureen said, shaking 
his hand warmly.  "I was a little panicked when she missed her 
flight."

"Thank you for inviting me on such a special occasion." 

"I'm glad you could come."

One final hug and the women parted and went to their separate 
rooms.  Mulder told Scully he would check with her in half an
hour and left to check out his room and change clothes.

He felt sticky from the long ride and took the world's fastest 
shower.  Straightening his tie, he looked around the luxurious
room and remembered another trip to Boston when he dressed for 
the evening in room much like this one.   

Mulder had awaited that evening with a mixture of dread and nervous 
excitement.  Phoebe Green had been a trial he had to endure.  He
had hoped to burn away his past humiliation and conquer his feelings
of inadequacy by finally entering the crucible that was Phoebe.
The evening had ended in utter disaster.

Tonight, there was anticipation, but no fear.  The chance to dance
with Scully, to hold her close--this was a dearly held dream of
his.  He wanted so much more but he knew with Scully, 
changes were always gradual.  Mulder brushed his hair, and 
straightened the jacket more neatly on his shoulders.  Time to 
knock on Scully's door.

"Just a minute," she called through the door.  Mulder waited,  
shifting his weight from foot to foot and smoothing his palms 
over the front of his jacket.  Jeez, he felt like a nervous 
teenager waiting to pick up his date.

Finally, the door opened and for a moment, he thought his eyes
would goggle like those of a cartoon character.  Scully looked 
amazing, incandescent.  It was as if he was seeing her for the 
first time in his life.  

Scully was a master of getting ready in next to no time.  She
had to be as their jobs required action on a moment's notice. But
this transformation was almost beyond imagination.  In the half 
hour, she'd managed to arrange her hair in soft curls and apply 
makeup.  But it was the dress that left him lightheaded.  

"What's the matter?"  She asked, puzzled

"You look incredible," he said, stunned.  He simply couldn't
take his eyes off her.  Scully wore a dark red velvet dress, 
the color intense and rich.  Her shoulders seemed even more 
creamy white against the dark, dark red.  The swell of her 
hips, the roundness of her breasts, every curve was outlined 
in snug-fitting velvet.

"It's not too tight?" she asked, smoothing her palms over her
hips.

He shook his head, afraid his voice would come out a high-pitched 
squeak.  "It's perfect," he said, his voice blessedly normal.   
"I don't think I've ever seen you in that color."  

Scully's dark red lips curved in a soft smile.  "Black Cherry."

"Huh?"  He couldn't keep his eyes off her perfect lips wrapped
around two little words.  His mouth had gone dry, making it hard 
to speak.  Maybe he was going to have a stroke.  

"Black Cherry.  That's what the bridal shop said the color was
called."  She moved to the dresser, opening her purse and 
dropping in lipstick, room key, tissues.  "I was afraid it 
wouldn't work with my coloring, but I think it's all right."

"Hold on," he said.  He moved toward her, one hand on her 
shoulder as he stood behind her.  "You're not all zipped."

His fingers trembled as he found the zipper tab, noting how the
black lace of whatever she wore beneath the dress looked 
against her skin.  It was a shame to have to cover something so
sexy.  He drew the zipper upwards, molding the velvet even more 
closely around her.   He wanted to find out what it felt like to 
dance with her, to feel her body move against him encased in
that rich velvet.

"Okay.  You're done."

"Thanks," she said.  "I don't wear dresses very often.  I forgot
I usually need help with them."

"I hearby volunteer for zipper duty.  Anytime, Scully.  I mean it."  
He touched the fabric where it met her skin, causing both of them
to shiver.  The urge to kiss the nape of her neck was just about
overwhelming, but he settled for brushing his fingers over the
soft skin instead.

"Maybe I should start wearing more dresses," she said, each word
perfectly enunciated.  Her smile was shy, as if she was worried
she'd been too bold.

"Do you need a ride to the church?" he asked.  

"Maureen called before.  The limo is picking us up in ten 
minutes, but thank you.  I...uh...I guess I'll see you there."

"Sure."

"Wait."  She crossed to the desk, returning with a slip of white 
paper.  "Here are the directions Maureen included with the
invitation.  It's Saint Steven's on Hanover Street."

"I'll see you there," he replied.

Mulder's legs felt like jello as he floated to his room to 
get his overcoat.   He decided not to bother getting the car
from valet parking, instead choosing to walk the few blocks
to the church.  

The sun was beginning to set, but the night had become 
uncommonly mild for late December.  Or maybe he still burned 
with the heat of seeing Scully in black cherry velvet.  He
turned those words over in his mind.  Black. Cherry.  Were
black cherries sweet?   As sweet as Scully's skin?  Mulder 
almost stumbled over a sidewalk grate, his mind so absorbed
with the idea of eating black cherries in bed with Scully.

He passed shoppers on the street as they hurried back and forth 
with their Christmas packages.  He realized he hadn't bought 
anything for Scully.  They never made a fuss over gifts and 
holidays.  No.  That wasn't entirely true.  He never made a fuss.
Scully loved Christmas and birthdays and all the accompanying
bells and whistles.

Mulder walked another half a block, pausing briefly as a man
hurried out of a shop.   Mulder found himself staring at a 
jewelry store window, mesmerized by the glitter.  One item in 
particular caught his eye--a necklace of thin gold strands, 
tiny diamonds seemingly suspended among them.  It reminded 
him of Scully in a way: delicate and complicated but strong.  
Diamonds were immutable, and in a way, so was Scully. 

Twenty minutes later, his credit card still a little warm, he
arrived at Saint Steven's.  A bagpiper wandered back and forth on
the sidewalk in front of the church, his cheeks puffed out as he 
played.   Passers-by paused in their travels as they listened
to the mournful sound.   Mulder paused for a moment and then 
entered the church.

The pews were full, the wedding guests chatting quietly and 
glancing around to see who was there.  Mulder smiled as the usher 
led him to a seat on the "bride's side."   If he hadn't known 
the background of the couple, he might have guessed from this 
gathering.  The bride's side of the church contained more than 
a few political types, their demeanor polished and commanding.  
The groom's side was definitely law enforcement, all of them
warily eyeing the slick group across the aisle.  

The bagpiper's drone gave way to a lilting Celtic ballad, sung
by a young woman and accompanied by an Irish flute.  Two young
men pulled the white runner up the length of the aisle.  The 
priest came before the congregation as they rose to watch the 
bridal procession.  

Scully was breathtaking as she slowly walked down the church's 
center aisle, carrying a small bouquet of dark red and ivory
roses.  Her eyes seemed to scan the crowd, and he hoped
she was trying to find him.   As she passed his pew, she 
shot him a quick smile.  

Maureen followed down the aisle, on the arm of a distinguished
older man.  Her dress was ivory velvet, cut in much the same
style as Scully's but with a longer, fuller skirt.  She carried
a similar, but much larger bouquet.   The bride beamed, so 
obviously happy Mulder could only guess at what that
felt like.  

If he'd been questioned later, Mulder would not have been able 
to recall one detail of the ceremony as Maureen Haggerty and 
James Phelan Jr. exchanged vows.  He would only remember Scully's 
bright hair and creamy skin.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I'd better not have any more champagne," Scully said.  "I'll
end up under the table."  And then she giggled.  Dear lord, he
was going to have a hard time not trying to liquor her up.  The
urge to pull her under the table was pretty strong.

"Wouldn't want that to happen," he said softly.  Mulder downed
the last of his champagne, placing his glass on a passing 
waiter's tray.  They'd finished dinner, Scully at the head table,
Mulder with a group of raucous bunch from the Boston mayor's
office.  

The bride had thrown her bouquet, caught by a tall, attractive
woman from a local TV station.  Mulder had noticed Scully keeping
herself on the edge of the unmarried women throng.  If she hadn't
been Maureen's maid of honor, he was sure she'd have stayed in the
ladies room through that portion of the festivities.

So now, the garter had been tossed, the bride had cut the cake,
the happy couple had smeared white frosting on each other's laughing
faces and the party was heating up now that the wedding business
had been dealt with.

As the band had began to play, Scully drifted over to find 
him.  They stood, watching the dancers and sipping champagne.
The band's song ended and the people on the dance floor made
their way back to various tables.

"Didn't Maureen look beautiful?" Scully asked, glancing across
the room at the bride and groom as they posed for yet another
photo.  

"Yes, she did.  But, I'm afraid you committed the ultimate 
wedding faux pas."

"What?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

"Being more beautiful than the bride."

"I think you may be biased, Mulder," she said with a giggle
as she studied the toe of one black suede pump.   Was Scully 
blushing?  Could he really have that effect on her?  God, he 
hoped so.

"Not at all.  Every man in this room has been watching you all
evening.   Take that guy over there.  He's been trying to get 
your attention for the last ten minutes," Mulder said indicating 
a sharply dressed man at the bar.

"Mulder," Scully said, laughing.  "It's your attention he's
trying to get.  Not mine."  

Mulder glanced up as the man shot him a seductive smile and 
flicked his eyes toward the hall.  Mulder turned back to 
Scully, slipping an arm around her waist.  The band had begun 
playing again.

"Why don't we dance?" he asked.  "I may need you to fight for
my honor."   

He guided her out to the dance floor, pulling her into his arms.
The music was lush, and old standard from a different era. 

Someday when I'm awf'ly low, 
And the world is cold, 
I will feel a glow just thinking of you 
And the way you loo tonight 

It was all he could do not to sing along, the words so closely
matching his feelings.  Scully tipped her face up to him and 
smiled, her eyes closed.  If she kept that up, he'd have to 
kiss her right here on the dance floor.  

"There's something wrong with your neck, Scully."

"What is it?" she asked, her hand flying up to her throat.  
"Do I have a rash?"

"Why don't we go into the hall where the light is a little 
better?"  Mulder took her hand and drew her away from the 
crowded dance floor.  

"What's the matter?"  She turned to him, tilting her head back.  
Mulder stroked the perfect white skin at her throat, peering 
carefully at her.

"Ah.  I see what the problem is," he said.  "Your throat is bare.  
I think I can fix that."   Mulder reached into his pocket, drawing 
out the wrapped package from the jewelry store.  "Merry Christmas, 
Scully."

Scully's expression seemed to alternate between exasperation and 
complete shock.  She took the package from him, staring at the 
shiny gold wrapping paper and red ribbon.

"I could smack you."  Her annoyance at his teasing was fleeting 
as she gazed at the present.  "Oh, Mulder.  What on earth did you
do?"

"Nice wrapping job, huh?"  

"Amazing," she said, pulling off the ribbon and tearing the 
paper from the box.  Who would have taken Scully for a ripper?  
He'd always assumed she was the kind of person who delicately 
unwrapped gifts, savoring each moment and carefully folding 
the paper. 
 
"Oh my God," she whispered.  When she looked up, her eyes were 
shining with tears.  Scully lifted the necklace out of the box, 
holding it up to sparkle in the light.  He closed his eyes for 
a moment, grateful she hadn't declined the gift.  

"Oh, Mulder."

Still holding the necklace in one hand, she cupped a hand at the
back of his neck and drew his face down for a kiss.   He was sure
the top of his head was going to blow right off at the feel of her
soft lips under his.

"I can't believe you did this."  She held the necklace against her
throat, turning so he could work the clasp.  "I...I'm stunned."

"Then it's had the proper effect," he said.  The necklace rested 
over the perfect little hollow at the base of her throat.  Her 
fingertips traced the delicate gold strands.  

"This means so much to me," she said. His heart was full as he
watched Scully's reaction. He'd been afraid of pushing too far, 
too fast, with this obviously expensive and personal gift. This
was a huge step forward and she seemed ready to make it with him.  

Scully slipped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his
chest.  Music drifted into the hall, and they began to slowly 
move to its rhythm.  He held her tight, his hands caressing the 
velvet covering her body.  

"If you're going to keep that up, Mulder, we should go upstairs."

Surely, he was having a stroke.  Yes, it was unlikely in a man of 
his age and physical condition, but a full body collapse could be 
the only reaction to those words.  

"Maybe we should," he replied, his hands drifting below her waist.  
God, the swell of her ass felt great cupped in velvet.  "Because
I'm not going to be able to stop."

Scully pulled out of his arms, causing him to groan until she 
took his hand and led him to the bank of elevators and pressed
the button.   Finally, the elevator arrived, its doors sliding 
open to admit them.

Mulder sincerely hoped that the elevator wasn't on video 
surveillance as he drew Scully close for a kiss.  Her mouth 
parted under his, allowing him to explore her in ways he'd only 
dreamed about.  Hell, those security guards had probably seen 
everything by now.

The elevator hovered to a stop at their floor and the doors opened.
Scully held his hand in an iron grip as if she thought he might run
away.  Silly woman.  Like that was any kind of possibility.  If 
anything, she'd have to scrape him off her body.

She reached into her tiny purse and drew out a room key.  If his
heart didn't stop pounding in his chest, she'd have to do CPR on 
him soon.  The door swung open and a new chapter of their lives
was about to begin.

Evidence of her rushed preparations for the wedding remained in 
the room.  The plastic bag bearing the bridal shop name was tossed
over a chair; the box for her new shoes lay on the bed.  Through
the door into the bathroom, he saw her makeup strewn on the vanity.

Scully stood before him, sliding her hands up his arms and over
his chest to the lapels of his jacket.  She pushed the jacket 
down, and he allowed it to drop to the floor.  Scully made short
work of his tie before moving on to methodically undo his shirt 
buttons.  

Unable to keep his own hands still, he contented himself with
skimming them over the velvet.  Did it feel different here on
her hips, or here on her tummy?  How did her breasts feel when
squeezed through such softness?  Pretty damned amazing, actually.
When he'd touched the fabric over all the parts of Scully that
cried out for testing, his fingers reached for the tab of her 
zipper.  

"I hereby volunteer for the reverse part of zipper duty every 
single time you wear a dress."  The zipper hissed its way down 
to the small of her back and over the rise of her bottom. 
The dress slid to the floor as Scully shimmying her body.

He felt his eyes grow wide.  The scrap of material he'd spotted 
earlier beneath the zipper turned out to be a black lace 
merry-widow.  It nipped in at Scully's waist, flaring out to
encase her hips. The bodice offered her breasts up like a 
gift under the Christmas tree.  

"You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen," he croaked.  He 
marveled at the thought that this amazing garment had been 
hidden under her dress all night, just waiting for him to 
discover it.  What other miracles had he missed by not tearing
her clothes off sooner?

"This has a zipper too," she said, raising her arm.  His fingers
trembled as he drew the side zipper down to her hip, freeing
her breasts, the nipples stiffening in the cool air.   

"Oh, I definitely want to be in charge of this zipper from
now on."  Her skin was like silk under his hands as he peeled
the black lace away.  Scully reached down and unhooked the
garters before stepping out of the corset and panties.  The 
sight of her in nothing but stockings and high heels was 
almost more than he could bear.

"You have too many clothes on," she said, pushing his shirt 
off his shoulders.  Her hands were everywhere, touching his
chest, arms, belly, before unbuckling his belt and unzipping
his trousers.  

"I can't believe we're here," he said, cupping her breasts.
"I've wanted this for the longest time."

"Then we shouldn't wait any longer," she said, pulling him
to the bed.  "Make love to me."

Mulder needed no further prompting, as he knelt at Scully's
feet, lifting one foot to remove her pump and drawing the
stocking down her leg.  He pressed a kiss to the top of her
thigh as he followed suit with her other shoe and stocking.

Scully drew him down over her, pulling him in for a kiss.  
He wanted to explore her with hands and lips and tongue, but
the need to join with her was too strong.  

"Now.  Please," she whispered into his ear.   It seemed Scully
had the same deep need.  Not surprising after seven years of 
foreplay, neither of them needed more.   

He covered her, bracing his weight on his elbows.  Scully looked
into his eyes with such total confidence and love, it left him
breathless.  He felt her thighs part under his legs, and he
moved into position.

Moving above her, he entered her with one long slide.  Scully
gasped softly, and he watched her face to see the smile bloom
on her lips.  "Good.  So good," she murmured.  

He knew he couldn't last long.  Judging from her moans, Scully
wasn't far behind.  His thrusts became more frantic until the
room echoed softly with gasps and incoherent words.

Later, he lay on his side, his long frame spooned behind her 
compact body.  Mulder propped himself up on one elbow, needing
to see her face.  To his great joy and relief, Scully was 
smiling.

"You know," she said softly,  "There was a time I thought we'd 
waited too long."

"Thought we missed our moment?"

"Maybe.  In those first few years, anything seemed possible.  
But then the bad things started to happen and I worried 
too much time had gone by--maybe something awful would 
happen if we finally let go and made love."

"Something awful?" he asked, laughing.  "Like the end of
the world?"

"Something like that."    

"Well," he said, listening to the street sounds outside the
hotel window.  "Sounds like that crazy old world is still 
chugging along out there."

"I never said it was a rational fear, Mulder."  Scully turned
in his arms until they were face to face.  "But, now...well,
maybe the timing was right after all."

"Speaking of timing, when do we need to start back?"

"Christmas Eve is tomorrow, Mulder.  I promised Mom I'd try
to be back in time for dinner."

"Okay," he said, kissing her nose.  "We'll leave after 
breakfast."

"Sure you won't change your mind and come with me to Mom's?"

He knew she wanted to spend more time with him, and that made
him happy.  But he needed to adjust to the seismic change 
in their relationship and he couldn't do that in the midst
of a Scully family gathering.  

No matter how welcome or timely their lovemaking had been,
it would change everything.   Mulder knew he needed to absorb
the experience before they went back to work.  

So, he would spend Christmas the way he always did, watching 
TV in his darkened apartment.  Nothing said Happy Holidays 
like pizza, beer and Scrooge reflected in the glass of his 
fishtank.

"I think it's better if I don't.  Promise me you'll spend
New Year's with me?"

"You can count on it."



End.


Elements:

- Mulder, Scully or Skinner offering connstructive (!we mean that!) 
criticism  [Mulder's "health" advice that Scully relax.]

- A Journal (preferrably a blog)  [Scullly's teenage diary]

- Something slashy [guy coming on to Mullder at the reception]

- Mulder's fishtank [Scrooge's reflectioon off the fishtank]

- A bridge, the game of bridge, or Omar  Sharif. Your choice 
  [Crossing over the Delaware Bridge]

Author's Notes:

  One of my guilty pleasures has always been wedding fic, 
especially Scully as bridesmaid fic.  Couple that with the 
fact that I'll be a mother-of-the-bride this summer and we're 
in full wedding mode.  This is a little fluffier than I usually 
write, but heck, it's Christmas folks!!  The lyrics of 
"Just The Way You Look Tonight" are by Dorothy 
Fields. Music by Jerome Kern.    

Huge thanks to Sybil for beta.