Wait till I draw you near,

a-Wait till you see that sunshine place,

Ain't nothin' like it here. . ." 1

As the movie came to an end, Mel proclaimed, "Damn, what a classic. They just don't make them like that anymore."

I looked over at my husband when he said that and smiled.   He reminded me so much of Cagney--gruff on the outside, soft on the inside, getting by in life on his wits and his gumption. A diamond in the rough, so to speak. He was quite a classic himself. And they DEFINITELY didn't make them like him any more. "No, they certainly don't," I agreed, dreamily. 

If Mel caught the odd, wistful tone in my voice, he didn't acknowledge it, simply asking, "Wanna watch the next one, or are you ready for bed?"

<I've been ready for bed since the moment we stepped foot in this suite!> I thought, but said instead, "It's up to you."

"Well, it's been a long day, and we've got a busy one planned for tomorrow. . ."

"Bedtime it is, then." I picked up the remote and was just about ready to shut off the TV when Mel suddenly stilled my hand. 

Giving him a curious look, he reassured me, "Just a sec--let me check the score."

"You men are hopeless," I chuckled, handing over the remote.

He quickly flipped over to the game, just long enough to see it was the top of the sixth inning, Yankees down nine to two. With a muttered curse, he clicked off the TV and tossed the remote onto the nightstand.

"They still have three innings to catch up," I said, optimistically, knowing how important this series was to him. "It ain't over 'til it's over, right?"

"Nah, it's over," he proclaimed, with an air of fatalism. "This just wasn't our year."

"Well, there's always football season," I replied, still trying to be positive. Giving it my best rah-rah cheer, I added, "Go, Raiders!"

He looked at me thoughtfully, an evil, lecherous smile crossing his face. "You know, that would work much better if you were wearing a little cheerleading outfit."

"Don't hold your breath."

"Hey, a man can dream." Throwing back the sheets and the spread, he slipped out of the bed, saying, "Be right back." And with that, he headed off to the bathroom. While he was gone, I also got out of the bed and retrieved my purse from it's resting place on top of the dresser. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I quickly touched up my blush and applied some lip-gloss. Hearing the toilet flush, then the faucet start running, I quickly finger-combed my hair. A minute or two later, I heard the tap shut off. Taking one last look in my compact mirror, I hurriedly climbed back under the covers, dropping my purse onto the floor by the bed.  

That was when I noticed that his fingerless leather gloves--the ones I had been dreaming of roaming all over my naked body for months--were resting on the nightstand next to the lamp. Dammit all! He must've taken them off at some point during the movie. Wouldn't you know it? The first night in forever that he decided to forego them at bedtime, and he chose tonight. 

Shit, I have the worst luck.

My mental cursing tapered off as Mel walked back into the room. "I left one of the lights on in the bathroom," he told me, "just in case we need to find it in the middle of the night."

"Thanks. That was really thoughtful."

He shrugged his shoulders, nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, we got used to doing it after Langly twisted his ankle in a motel in Kansas." At my curious expression, he elaborated, "Crop circles."

"Ah, yes--I remember. Mulder tried to drag me out there on that one."

"You didn't miss much. Teenage kids. Too much time on their hands."

"Well, I hope I'm not as clumsy as Langly, but it's still a good idea." I jerked my head towards his pillow. "Are you going to stand there all night, or are you getting back into bed."

He paused for a moment, then asked, timidly, "Are you sure you don't want me to sleep on the couch? I don't mind."

"Yes, I'm sure. This bed's more than big enough for both of us. And besides, it's not as if we haven't slept in the same bed before," I commented, reminding him of the time he ran away, and I basically held him prisoner in my bedroom overnight.

"As I recall, you promised me handcuffs that night," he leered.

"Threatened, Frohike. I THREATENED you with handcuffs."

"Semantics," he retorted, as he slid back into the bed. "So. . .where are they?"

"I left them at Rocky's place," I deadpanned.

"Ah-ha! I knew there was something going on between you and Dr. Bug-zino." 

"Like I have time for an affair," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "And even if I did, it wouldn't be with him. Trust me."

"I'm glad to hear that." Propping himself up on one elbow, he commented, "You know, we could always call up the boys--Paul, Derek, Andy. I'm sure ONE of them can procure a pair of cuffs . . . for a five dollar tip, of course."

"Of course," I chuckled.

"God, I love your laugh," he remarked as he continued to look down at me. His gaze held mine--a gaze so intense and loving that I felt a swarm of butterflies begin to flutter in my belly. But just when I thought, 'This is it, he's going to make his move', he merely leaned down and gave me a minty-fresh chaste buss on the lips. "Night, Dana."

"Night, Mel," I sighed, dejectedly.

With that, we both retired to our respective sides of the bed. He took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand next to his gloves before shutting off the bedside lamp. We snuggled under the sheets, careful not to intrude on each other's personal space. It only took a minute for me to conclude that this was NOT how I wanted our perfect night to end. "Mel?" I called out, softly. 

"Yeah?"

"It's kind of lonely over here."

"Is it?"

"Uh-huh. And chilly, too."

"That's a pity." Though he tried to be serious, I could still hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, it is. What about your side?"

"Well, I'm warm enough, but I'll admit it's a bit lonely here, too."

"I could fix that, you know."

This time there was a definite laugh in his reply. "Then what are you waiting for?"

I smiled and rolled over to discover Mel was facing me, playful grin on his face. Noticing his arm was outstretched in welcome, I scooted over and cuddled against his side, resting my head on his right shoulder. 

<Well, Dana, this is the opportunity you've been waiting for. The right time has arrived. But now that it's here, are you brave enough to go through with your plans? Only one way to find out.> 

"Mel?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Are you sleeping?"

"Not yet."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

I had it all planned out. I had thought and rethought this speech for days, weeks. Had worked out my responses to any argument he'd propose. I looked up at him, opened my mouth--and I know it sounds like a horrible cliché’, right out of a bad Hollywood movie or cheesy romance novel--but one look in his eyes, and I realized that no words were needed. I just tilted my head and pressed my lips to his. 

The kiss was warm and loving and almost overpowering with the depth of emotions it expressed. I poured all my feelings for Mel into that kiss, hoping he would understand, hoping he would feel the same way. His mouth moved against mine for long moments, drinking in that wondrous moment. When we finally parted, he asked, dazedly, "What was that for?"

"I love you."  

"Oh." He allowed me to kiss him again before inquiring, "And that?"

"I *really* love you."

"Ah." Another kiss, then, "What about that one?"

"I like your tooth paste?" I didn't give him a chance to comment as I leaned in and kissed him once more. A little coaxing and I slipped my tongue past his parted lips, even as I slipped my body over his. I felt his hands slide over my hips, up my back, and over my shoulders, the satiny material of my nightshirt caressing my oversensitive skin. Suddenly strong, blunt hands were gently cradling my face, pulling my lips from his. I tried, but couldn't stop the disappointed groan from sounding. 

"Dana, sweetness, if you don't stop now, I might not be able to stop later," he whispered, huskily.

"Your point being. . .?" I asked, impatiently, as I pulled him in for another deep kiss. And this time I really threw myself into it, inching my way over and atop his prone body as I assaulted his mouth, showing that I definitely meant business. I couldn't help smiling to myself at the agonized moans he uttered, knowing I was finally getting to him, and destroying all his defenses. 

Everything was going great. I had him exactly where I wanted him, and I could sense victory was near. But just as I slid my hand down under the blanket to stroke his hardening arousal, he suddenly jerked away. Next thing I knew, I had been dumped on my ass, and he had jumped off the bed. "Dana, wait," he gasped breathlessly. "We can't do this."

I sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Mel was looking down at me, his expression a mixture of terror and confusion, an expression at complete odds with the excitement his body was communicating. "Mel, what's wrong? I thought. . ." Trying for shy-virginal-innocence (and probably missing by a mile), I asked, softly, "Don't you want me?"

He chuckled nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "Jesus, Dana--what a stupid question. You know how I feel about you, how I've always felt about you. There's nothing I want more than to, you know," gesturing to the bed, "make love to you." He closed his eyes, pausing for a moment before continuing, "But we agreed. . ."

"I know what we agreed, but Mel. . ." This was it--the big gamble. The time had come to confess my feelings. I could lose everything, but I had to be honest with Mel, and let the chips fall where they may.   Taking a deep breath, I began again. "Mel--you've become my dearest friend, my most trusted confidant, my steady rock in this uncertain world. You've made me laugh. Held me when I cried. Forgiven me for my mistakes and foibles. You are the love of my life. I don't know what else to say." I paused, my voice catching, "You already share my entire life. And now I want you to share my bed."

"And the contract?" he questioned, uncertainly.

I got out of the bed and stood before him. Slipping my hands around and behind his neck, I answered, "Null and void, if you want it to be."

He studied me for a moment before asking, "Dana, you're not drunk, are you?"

I wasn't offended. I realized how much of a shock this must've been for the poor guy. Chuckling softly, I replied, "Mel, I assure you. This isn't the champagne talking. Just my heart."

He shook his head, obviously trying to get a handle on the situation. After a heartbeat or two, he murmured, "God, this is so unexpected."

"I know." 

"I mean, all this time. . .I thought I was the only one that felt this way. That you. . ."

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've said. . ."

"No, Dana--don't apologize. I understand, I really do. It's just--you know how much I want this, want you. Are you sure this is what you want, too?"

Taking his hands in mine, I squeezed them tightly as I reassured him, "Mel, these feelings, this desire I feel for you. . .they've been growing for a long time now. Months, in fact. But I was. . . afraid to say anything, afraid to ruin the beautiful life we had created together. I'm still not sure what will happen now, but I had to tell you how I felt. I just couldn't stay silent any longer."

He released a shaky laugh and said, "Why do I have the feeling that any minute now I'm gonna wake up on the bathroom floor with a concussion I received from slipping and hitting my head on the Jacuzzi?"

"Do you usually dream of me when you knock yourself unconscious?" I teased, my fingers twirling playfully in his hair.

"Most times, yeah."

"And who do you think about the other times?"

"Uh, perhaps I should plead the fifth."

I just lifted my eyes to the ceiling and muttered, "Sometimes I think I was insane to marry you."

"Well, you know what they say: 'sanity is the hobgoblin of little minds'."

"That's 'foolish consistency', not 'sanity'."

"Are you sure?"

"Mel, in case you haven't noticed, I'm throwing myself at you here. So I'm only going to ask this once." Grabbing two handfuls of pajama top, I pulled him close and demanded, "Are we going to do this, or are you going to make me beg?"

"Would you?" he asked excitedly, then, noticing my deadly glare, he stammered, "I mean, you know, only if you want to." Throwing in a lethal quirked eyebrow, he quickly explained, "It's, ahhh, sort of a long-standing fantasy of mine."

"You are *so* lucky I don't carry a gun anymore, Frohike."

"You're right. No need to confess that now. Perhaps next time."

"At the rate you're going, Melvin, there's not going to be a THIS time," I informed him.

"Right. I'll, ah, save the stand-up routine for later on."

"God, you talk too much," I growled, and, knowing the perfect way to shut him up, I captured his lips in a hungry, searing kiss. This time, Mel didn't hold back, plundering my mouth recklessly, ruthlessly. Bold, seeking hands slid up and under my nightshirt, clasping my butt, and pulling me closer against his body. I willingly went, surrendering myself to him, to his mouth, to his touch.

Our hands seemed to be everywhere. Stroking up and down backs. Gliding across shoulders. Twined in hair. Curved around necks. Cupped under buttocks. Each movement my hands made his would mirror. And through it all, the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate. It was as if, finally given permission, we couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

When air became a necessity, we reluctantly broke apart. Mel's lips quickly found a new obsession, nibbling a path along my throat, ending behind my left ear, where he found a magical spot that nearly turned my bones to mush. Through my helpless moans, and rapidly diminishing mental faculties, I managed to begin unbuttoning my nightshirt. As if sensing my intention, Mel's hands slipped around to my chest and brushed my own hands away. With shaky fingers, he picked up where I left off, and unlatched the top four buttons. With that accomplished, he pushed it off my shoulders and let it slither to the floor, leaving me naked except for my panties.

"Oh, mama," he sighed, as his eyes raked down my body, a look of awe on his face that I found flattering yet slightly intimidating. It had been a long time since I last found myself in this situation, about to make love to someone, and I couldn't remember ever being the focus of so much undisguised desire. Mel put me at ease, however. "You're so lovely, Dana," his voice raspy, choked with emotion, his fingers brushing gently across my cheek. "This is every dream, every fantasy I have had for the last ten years, wrapped up in a perfect moment in time."

His lyrical words brought tears to my eyes. Who would ever guess Melvin Frohike could be such a poet? "That was so. . .so beautiful, Mel."

"Yeah, I'm not just a pretty face," he joked. I smiled as I leaned in to kiss him once more, my fingers busily unbuttoning his pajama top; it soon joined my own nightshirt on the floor at our feet. As I drank in his bared chest, running my fingers through that luxurious fur, he surprised me by ducking his head, shyly. With a shrug of his shoulders, he chuckled brokenly, "Sorry I'm no James Cagney."

"That's good. Because it's you that I want." And I fell into his arms, my mouth eagerly claiming his. 

It didn't take long for me to lose control of that kiss--not that I minded, of course. Mel took my hunger and fervor and turned it back onto me. He explored my mouth slowly, delicately outlining my lips with feather-light flicks of his tongue tip, wetting them before pressing his mouth to mine once more, kissing me deeply. Those firm full lips that I had long ago developed an addiction for softened as they pressed against mine, his nimble tongue slipping between my lips where it slow danced with mine. Gentle hands, roughened and scuffed from years of hard work, skimmed up and down my back, even as his kiss became more intense and passionate.

This close, Mel's strong, male presence overwhelmed my already battered senses. It intoxicated me to feel his body pressed against mine, to taste his essence on my tongue, to smell the heady fragrance of faded cologne and Mel's unique scent. Time seemed to stand still as I lost myself in his embrace, before we were forced to come up for air once more.

At that point, his hands tenderly cupped and caressed my breasts as his lips trailed a path of baby kisses along my throat and back up to my ear. His questing mouth connected with that ultra responsive spot below my earlobe once again, my low pleasured sobs echoing in the quiet night. Nimble fingertips skated over my peaked nipples before he lowered his head, taking one into his mouth. He suckled on it tenderly, and I was soon whimpering under his ministrations. As he moved to the other breast, one of his hands dropped down; knowing fingers were soon gliding over my aching sex, caressing me through my dampening panties. 

His was the perfect touch--other men I've been with rubbed too hard or too rough, but Mel got it

right. He softly stroked his finger over my most sensitive spot, causing my legs to tremble and my heart to pound as his mouth returned to mine. This time it was a battle to be won. Tongues dueled as his clever fingers teased me, tormented me, stroking my tender bud until I was moaning in delight. For a moment I was embarrassed, knowing he could feel how wet and ready I was, but between his exquisite kisses and his talented fingers caressing me with such expertise, how could I NOT be soaking wet? 

"How did I get so lucky?" he breathed against my neck, backing me up to the bed. "You could have had any man you wanted. How did you end up with me?"

I grinned, as I fell onto the mattress. "Because I could have any man I wanted?" 

"God, I love you so much, Dana." 

Reaching up my right hand to stroke his stubbly cheek, I gave in to his fantasy and breathlessly begged, "Don't tell me, Mel. Show me." Dropping my voice an octave, I purred, "Show me how much you love me. Please."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and I swear he fairly shivered at my words. A smile gracing his lips, he opened his eyes again, and replied, just as breathlessly, "Thank you."

"You're most welcome. But now, you have to do something for me."

His eyes sparkled as he answered, "Anything, my love."

Snatching his gloves off the nightstand, I handed them to him with the command, "Put them on."

A raised eyebrow and a smirk as he pulled them over his hands. "Hmmmm. Kinky. I like."

I shrugged, "You've got your fantasies, I've got mine."

"Will I get to hear them?"

"Play your cards right, Frohike, and you'll get to *fulfill* them."

Another shudder as he exclaimed, "Oh man, I was right about you. . .you ARE hot!"

I thought at that point he would join me on the bed, but he surprised me as he dropped to his knees in front of me instead. Leather-covered hands skimmed down my waist, over my hips, and down my legs. I trembled at his touch, and his raspy, whispered, "Incredible." Experienced hands skillfully massaged each of my feet until I was moaning softly with every seductive caress. When I was sure I was going to melt into a relaxed, happy puddle, I felt his hands on my waist once more. His fingers looped through the waistband of my panties and began to tug them down. I lifted up a bit to help him as he smoothly pulled the flimsy item off, and flicked it over his shoulder.

The sight of him kneeling in front of me, drinking in my nakedness made me dizzy. But he wasn't done tormenting me yet. Dexterous fingers began tracing patterns on my inner-thighs, my kneecaps and down my calves and over my ankles. Torture of the highest order. I groaned when his fingers were replaced with teasing lips, butterfly kisses laved along my heated skin, his whiskers--sometimes scratchy, sometimes tickly--adding a new level of sensation to the mix.

He kissed a trail back up my legs until he was once again where he started. For one breathless, silent moment there was a suspension of all time and motion, then his lips lightly grazed the soft skin of my inner thigh, his fingers weaving through the silken hair of my mound. 

His actions left me squirming with anticipation and whimpering with need. Finally taking pity on me, he gently spread my legs, murmuring a husky, "So beautiful." Hands encased in buttery-soft kidskin, warmed by the heat of his body, cupped under my bottom, and raised my wetness to his waiting mouth. I gasped as his tongue touched my burning flesh for the first time, choking on the sweet blinding ecstasy of his caresses.

His mouth was like the flames of a fire as his lips and tongue took turns to torment me. Broad sweeping strokes and quicksilver little flicks danced over my sensitive sex. My hips rose to meet his searching tongue, and I shuddered when it dove inside me, the pleasure almost beyond endurance. A few maddening thrusts of his tongue had me moaning wantonly, and praying to God under my breath. I threaded my fingers through his hair, urging him deeper, encouraging him further.

He didn't take the hint--instead, with a final stroke of his tongue, he withdrew. I was just about to lodge a protest when instead I felt a finger slip into me effortlessly. I gasped at the intrusion, and spread my legs wider, begging for more. This time he did take the hint, sliding his finger deeper as his mouth resumed exploring my womanhood. Emboldened by my needful moans, he slid a second finger within me. 

My God, and I thought his *kisses* made me tingle!

I was feeling faint, as if every nerve in my body were aflame. I was enveloped in raw sensation, panting, whimpering. The wetness of his tongue fluttering over my clitoris and his skillful fingers opening and probing the moist folds below were more than I could take, my body singing from his skillful manipulations.

The combination of his soft mouth and gentle hand soon had me close to coming. My climax, when it came, took us both by surprise. It was so intense and so devastating in its completeness that I easily lost myself in its violent whirlwind, collapsing backwards onto the bed. I was still riding the final tremors of my orgasm when I managed to gasp out, "Oh, God--that was amazing. Absolutely amazing."

"I aim to please."

"Yeah, well, no complaints here."

After a minute or two, my breathing was slowly returning to normal; it was then that I heard a pained groan from the floor near my feet. Struggling to sit up, I discovered Mel was still on the floor, sitting back on his heels, rubbing his knees. "Mel, are you okay?" I asked, anxiously.

"Oh, yeah--I'm fine." Gesturing to his right knee, he added, "Just my old war injury."

"You want me to rub it for you?"

"Now that's a loaded question if I ever heard one." Another groan, a couple of grunts--and a helping hand from me--and Mel managed to pull himself up off the floor. "Well, I might end up regretting that in the morning," he joked, "but it was worth it."

"It certainly was," I blissfully agreed. "Are you okay to keep going?"

A lewd grin and a wink. "Try and stop me." 

That settled, I now set out to get Mel as gloriously nude as I was. My hands worked unhurriedly at the cord of his pajama bottoms, then slowly parted the well-loved flannel, caressing the hardness hidden inside. Silk over steel. He panted a shaky, "Oh God!" when I grasped his firm, heated length--a very nice length at that. His whole body trembled slightly as I stroked him lovingly, his hazel eyes darkening and growing more unfocused with each caress. Suddenly I felt his hand cover mine and still it. "No more," he whispered, his voice quavering. "I'll be in trouble if you keep that up."

Sympathizing with his distress, I released him, and continued with my original plan of stripping him naked. One tug and his pants were pooled around his ankles. I glanced up, just as he leaned down to kiss me, his soft lips masterfully caressing mine.   As I lost myself in his kiss, he gently eased me backwards onto the bed. I wriggled around, trying to get comfortable, his eyes following my every move. When I was finally settled, I motioned for him to join me. He paused a moment, his gaze making one last canvass across my body before he sighed, "For so long, I've seen this vision in my dreams. You're beautiful, my angel."  

Again I felt tears welling in my eyes at his tender words. Again, I motioned him to join me. With a shy smile, he carefully climbed onto the bed, moving himself into position over me.

By this time I wanted him inside me so badly that I ached. I shivered as he placed himself at my opening. Gently and as soft as a song he slipped into me slowly, every inch opening me to the full width of him and I moaned deliriously. 

With short, gentle pushes, he buried himself inside me, filling me completely. Lying flush against my body, he paused, and closed his eyes, as if willing himself to calm down. After a moment or two, his eyes opened again, green as the first leaves of spring, and locked on mine. I found myself drowning in their depths, the desire they reflected almost overwhelming. Before I could catch my breath, Mel began moving within me, slowly and rhythmically, in and out. Hands braced on the mattress on both sides of my head for balance, he leaned down to kiss me once more.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, crushing myself to him, undulating to meet his every thrust. "So beautiful," he crooned in my ear, slipping in and easing out again. "My beautiful Dana." He spoke my name like a seductive caress. Stopping, pausing, kissing, cherishing. He made me feel like the most precious person in the world, treasured beyond worth, and I feared was in serious danger of sensory overload.

For many long minutes, our bodies rocked together on an ocean of pleasure. I wanted to feel his hardness filling me forever. Mel brushed light kisses across my cheeks, even as he spread my thighs wider, his next thrust going deeper still. I was moaning incoherently by then, moving in tandem with his steady rhythm, our bodies meeting and touching and melting into one withering, sensual ecstasy.

I arched up into him, wanting to feel him deeper in me, wanting to touch him everywhere, wanting to feel him pressed against my body, wanting to die in his arms. It was so good, so right--why had we foolishly waited so long?

His hands gripped my hips as he penetrated me, plunging to the hilt, thrusting himself deeply. He used quick short thrusts, then long drawn-out strokes, pulling out until I was whimpering at the loss, then penetrating me slowly until I was sobbing in relief. Aiming his hardness first to one side, then the other, up and down, in and out, he was finding every untouched corner and stroking it, exciting parts of me never before explored.

My hands slipped down over his back to pull him closer with every stroke, with every heartbeat, my whole body humming and alive as it crashed against his. Racing towards our climax, I matched him, thrust for thrust, begging him breathlessly to take me deeper, harder, until his mouth clamped over mine, cutting off my winded pleas. 

So close. I could feel it building, building within me. I was almost there. I could feel my whole body tensing, and then--a gentle finger brushed over my clitoris. One stroke, two. One last caress from within. . .

I heard myself cry out, but was powerless to stop it--didn't WANT to stop it! My climax kept coming in waves. I grasped Mel's shoulders and clung onto him tightly, my anchor in a sea of pleasure.

With a throaty moan, Mel soon followed, continuing to thrust into me as he came, his strokes becoming weaker and weaker until he stopped moving, and crumpled upon me. For what seemed like many minutes, the only sounds to be heard were the short, shallow gasps of our breathing, as we each tried to recover our composure.

I felt a tiny butterfly kiss pressed against my left shoulder, where Mel's head now rested. I turned to face him, noting the sated look in his bright hazel eyes, the healthy flush of his cheeks, the contented smile gracing his face. He was utterly sated, basking in passion's afterglow.

Just when I thought he was going to fall asleep on me--literally--he managed to carefully extract himself from my grasp and roll over on his back beside me. "Oh, man," he groaned, "I can die a happy man now."

"Don't even think about it, buddy," I warned him.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on going any place." He gave me a huge shit-eating grin. "I'm not that stupid."

"Good, because I've decided I like having you around."

"You've got it, angel." A kiss, then, "Aw, damn, we forgot to take pictures."

"Mulder will be so disappointed," I replied, flippantly.

"You know, his birthday is just next week. We could always surprise him with a home-made video."

"Not in this lifetime."

"Well, what about for MY birthday?"

"Mel, you give perverts a bad name."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," he snickered.

Curling myself around his lax body, resting my head on his chest, I concluded, "I guess I made the right choice, huh?"

"Hmmmm, 'bout what?"

"This," I said, motioning between the two of us. "Letting you know how I really felt about you. I just--dammit! I should have told you months ago. All that wasted time!"

"Shhhhh," he soothed, as gentle fingers lovingly brushed the damp bangs from my forehead. "Don't say that."

"But it's true. I should have been honest with you. We could have been. . ."

"Dana, sweetheart--we can't change the past. Fretting about it won't do any good. We both know the truth now. That's all that's important."

"But. . ."

He cut off my protest with a single finger pressed to my lips. With quiet conviction, he declared, "Hear me now, Dana Katherine--no matter what happens from here on out, know that I love you and Billy more than anything on this planet or any other. And nothing will ever change that." Hugging me close to him, he added, "This is all I've ever wanted in life. You. A home. A family." A loud wet kiss on the cheek. "You."

"You said that already," I laughingly pointed out.

"It deserved repeating."

I smiled into another kiss--this one slow and soft, sweet and deep. A kiss filled with promise. A kiss filled with love. As we broke apart, I decided to spring my remaining surprise on him. "Mel, I got something for you," I said.

"What?"

"You'll see," I replied, crawling across his body, attempting to retrieve my purse, which was still resting on the floor near the bed. It was just slightly out of my reach, so I leaned over a little further, squirming around a bit until my fingers snagged the strap.

"Awww, honey," he laughed, "that's awfully it's sweet of you, but while the spirit is willing, the flesh needs some time to recharge." His laughter suddenly broke off, replaced with a breathless voice that whispered, "Holy shit! Baby's got ink!"

"Huh?"

"All this time, and I never knew." I felt a finger tracing a circle around my lower back, and I realized he had discovered my regrettable tattoo. "It's just what I've always wanted," he purred, as his finger was replaced with his tongue.

I jumped, squeaking, "Not that, you twit. This." I had finally reeled in the errant purse; opening the center pocket, I pulled out a small velvet box. Sliding off of Mel and back onto my side of the bed, I commented, "I know it's not paper, but the invoice was, if that means anything." Handing it to him, I whispered, "Happy anniversary."

His fingers trembled as he opened the box, revealing an antique wedding ring. He looked at me, stunned. "What is this?"

"Now that we're officially husband and wife, I think it's time you had a ring, too. Don't you?"

He shot me a curious look. "You had all this planned?"

"Well, not exactly. I mean, I had HOPED that one day. . .that is, I wanted this to happen, I just didn't know when it actually would." I felt my cheeks flush. "So I got the ring for when it did."

"And you brought it with you this weekend."

My cheeks must've been beet red by that point. With a shrug of my shoulders, I replied, "I *hoped*."

He chuckled at that. "We certainly didn't make it easy on ourselves, did we?"

"No pain, no gain."

"Oooh, is that another one of your fantasies?" he teased.

Fluttering my eyelashes, I cooed, "Maybe."

"Something tells me I better pick up a prescription for Viagra." Twirling the ring between his fingers, he marveled, "It looks like Gramma's."

"I had it custom made, so it would match mine," I explained.

He quickly stripped off his gloves and slipped it on his left ring finger. I was relieved to see it was a perfect fit--just like us. "It will never leave my finger." He leaned over and kissed me, so softly, I wasn't even sure I had been kissed.   Gazing in wonder at the ring, he sniffled, "I think I can honestly say this is the best day of my life. Well, besides the Yankees winning the World Series in 1996, of course."

Resuming my earlier position--snuggled up against his warm body, head pillowed on his chest--I joked, "At least I'm in the top two."

"Wel-l-l-l, there was also the day Billy called me 'da-da' for the first time."

I shot him 'the Eyebrow'. "So I'm in third?"

"Let's call it a three-way tie."

I just gave a tolerant shake of my head and laughed, knowing that if I had a mirror at that moment, I'd see an indulgent look of adoration on my face.

<My God, I've got it as bad as Walter!>

"What am I going to do with you, Frohike?"

"If you need a suggestion. . ." he started.

"I've got a million of them," I finished for him, smiling at our familiar banter. And at that moment, I had an epiphany--things hadn't changed between us at all, except for the better.  

I felt another kiss touch my hair as he murmured, "I love you, Angel."

"I know," I replied, smugly.

I felt his stunned gasp as much as I heard it. "Scully?!" he exclaimed. "Was that a 'Star Wars' reference?"

" 'Empire', actually." I smirked, throwing his line back at him, "I'm not just a pretty face, you know."

"Oh, I already knew that." He looked down at his ring and smiled. "I'll never forget this night, Dana. Makes me wonder how we'll top it next year."

"I'll remember the handcuffs," I quipped.

"And the video camera?" he suggested.

"And the cheerleading outfit."

"Yeah, that'll work."   Our mouths joined fully then, laughter warm on our shared breath. And as Mel blindly reached out and shut off the bedside lamp, I was already looking forward to what our second year together would bring. 

"The best is yet to come and babe, won't it be fine?

The best is yet to come, come the day you're mine." 1

THE END

Author's Note: The inn was based on one that actually exists. The name was changed to protect the innocent--and prevent me from being sued. (I hope) And yes, it really does have an X room. I couldn't resist.

As for the Star Trek conspiracy--I didn't make that up. I'm not that good. Check out the chapter, "Star Trek: Sci-Fi or Psy-War?" from the book, "The Complete Conspiracy Reader" by the editors of Paranoia Magazine. (You just KNOW the Gunmen have a subscription--if only to scope out the competition.)

Song-ography:

1) "The Best is Yet to Come", recorded by Frank Sinatra. Lyrics by Carolyn Leigh; music by Cy Coleman.