We're Moving On Up

Saturday June 1, 2002

8:57 A.M.

"Well, hon, we're all set to rock and roll." But I don't even think Dana heard me. She was standing in the middle of the now-empty living room, looking dazed. I wandered over to her, Billy following close behind, grabbing my pant leg for balance. "Is everything okay, angel?"

She glanced over at me as I hauled Billy up into my arms; she gave us both a brave little smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just. . ." The sentence broke off as she looked out over the room again and sighed. "I guess I didn't realize how much I was going to miss this place, that's all."

Taking a moment to straighten Billy's shirt, she continued, "This was my first place away from home, you know? I mean, there were the dorms at school and at Quantico. And right after I graduated, I shared a apartment with three other girls, but this was MY place." She gave me a sheepish grin. "I know it's silly to get attached to an apartment. But I just. . .I keep thinking of all the memories I have here. Good ones, bad ones." At that, her gaze swept over the floor near the front door before she quickly looked away.

I'd read the police report, so I knew that's where they had found her sister, Melissa, after she had been shot. It always amazed me that Dana continued to live in this apartment after that incident. Perhaps she saw it as some sort of penance, to have to walk past the spot where her sister was gunned down every single day of her life. I never asked her and she never told me. Dana had her reasons, but only she knew what they were.

Balancing Billy on my hip, I reached out my right hand and snaked it around her waist. When she looked back at me, I gave her a reassuring smile. "Hey, just think of all the memories we'll make at the new place."

She returned my smile, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at Billy and me. Leaning over, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Lots of new memories," she promised, running a caressing hand over Billy's back. Giving him a kiss on the cheek as well, she cooed, "You want to ride with me or Daddy?"

"Daddy! Daddy!" he squealed excitedly, squirming in my arms.  

"You know, I'm starting to get jealous," she teased. "But maybe it's for the best. I can stop at the market on my way, pick up some basics to carry us through the weekend."

"Don't forget to pick up something for the movers," I reminded her. "Some cold soda and maybe some sandwiches."

"You know, that's a really good idea, Mel," a touch of admiration in her voice.

I shrugged. "Hey, I get them occasionally. So, you ready to go?"

She took one last look around and sighed, "Yeah. Let's go." I gave her a quick reassuring squeeze, then the three of us walked out together to start a new chapter in our lives.

* * * * * * * * * *

DANA:

A little over three hours later, Mel and I stood on the front porch of our new house, waving 'goodbye' as our movers drove away. William was already inside, sleeping soundly in his crib. Frankly, I wanted so badly to join him. I was exhausted, and didn't even want to think about unpacking all the boxes that were piled up everywhere. At least Mel and I wouldn't have to assemble our own beds--as part of our deal, the movers had done that for us. Quite frankly, I don't think I was up to tackling that task. The movers had turned out to be a great bunch of guys. They were friendly and helpful, not to mention grateful for the lunch we provided them. Overall, the move had been less traumatic than I imagined it was going to be.

Except for all the damn boxes.

As I turned around and starting to head back into the house, I felt a restraining hand on my arm. "Wait a minute," Frohike instructed.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing bad. It's just. . .I think I'm supposed to carry you over the threshold, aren't I?"

"I think that's for newlyweds, Mel," I informed him, with a chuckle. "You're about nine months too late."

His brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it's when you move into a new house."

"Well, either way, I don't see it happening."

Squinting at me, he asked, "You think I can't do it?" a note of defiance in his tone.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I declared, "No. I don't think you can do it."

He then spent the next ten minutes trying all different ways to pick me up and carry me inside. By the time he was ready to give up, I was laughing so hard I could barely stand up. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and crowed triumphantly, "Ah! I've got it!" And with that, I found myself hefted over his shoulder, ass over teakettle as my mom used to say, in a classic fireman's rescue hold. 

"Let me down, Frohike!" I cried out, playfully slapping him on his backside in between the giggles. 

He finally did as I requested, and we both tumbled to the floor, laughing hard. "You oaf!" I scolded from beneath him, still trying to catch my breath. "What'd you do that for?!"

"Well, you TOLD me to put you down," he retorted, breathing heavy himself.

"You didn't have to take me literally. Now, get off me," I ordered, giving his shoulder a shove. 

"Make me," he challenged, not even making an effort to move.

"Okay, I will!" And I grasped both his shoulders and shoved harder. He did indeed roll off me, but by gripping my waist, he ensured that I rolled over with him.

As I was now on top, he gave the same command, "Hey, get offa me." 

So I retaliated with the same reply, "Make me." I was anticipating a playful shove backwards--I was not anticipating him cupping my face in his hands and pulling me down for a kiss.

It may have started out as a joke, but it quickly turned hot and intense. Already breathless from our roughhousing, I found myself growing lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, but I hardly cared. Hands back on my waist, he gently rolled us over again. Lying on the bottom, with his weight crushing me was thrilling; the skillful way he took possession of my lips, magical. I moaned into his mouth as my legs parted slightly. I could feel his arousal pressing against me and I moaned again. My hands roamed under the hem of his shirt and ran up the bare skin of his back, urging him closer to me, my exhaustion a distant memory. If this was to be our first time, I couldn't think of a better place than in front of our new fireplace.

But just as things started getting interesting, the doorbell rang. I was thinking of ignoring it--hell, I'm not even sure Frohike heard it--but then it occurred to me that it could be the movers. Perhaps they had forgotten something on the truck. When the bell rang again, I knew I had to answer it. So with a mutual frustrated grunt, I rolled Mel off of me, smoothed down my clothes, and went to the door, hoping that whoever was on the other side wouldn't guess what I had been up to.

Fat chance. It was Mom. 

"Hello sweetheart! Happy housewarming!" she exclaimed cheerfully, as she held out a big roasting pan.

Even without lifting the cover I could smell the delicious aroma, but being nosy, I lifted the lid anyway to reveal a large pot roast and veggies. "Mom, you shouldn't have." 

"Well, I know you'd be too busy to cook for a couple of days," she explained. Glancing around the entryway, she sighed, "Oh, Dana, this place is lovely. Can I get the grand tour?"

"Sure thing, Mom. Give that to me." I took the pan from her and started walking towards the kitchen. "I'll just put this away for now." 

As we passed the living room we heard a groan; Frohike, still half-winded and sweaty was using the couch to pull himself off the floor. Mom looked from him to me, and with a wink she smirked, "Oh, my--I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Only my heart attack," Mel grunted, finally getting the leverage he needed to stand up. "Nothin' to worry about."

"Mel insisted on carrying me over the threshold," I informed her, steering her away from the living room. She just gave me a look that clearly implied she didn't believe me for one minute, but she refrained from saying anything. Once the roast was placed in the fridge, I grabbed her hand and started showing her around.

* * * * * * * * * *

FROHIKE:

Oh, man--could anything be more embarrassing than having your mother-in-law catch you in the act? Even if it wasn't really 'the act'? How humiliating! And to have her flash me the 'thumbs-up' sign behind Dana's back. . .oh God. I was totally mortified.

What the hell had I been thinking anyway? I never meant for that kiss to get so out of control. It was only supposed to be a joke, but one taste of those luscious lips and I was a goner. Perhaps it was a good thing Mom had shown up--who knows how far it would have gone? Lord knows it was getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of Dana. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to take that beautiful angel into my bed and make love to her until the end of time. But as tempting as that idea was, we had a contract to uphold. The last thing I wanted to do was lose everything because of one moment of weakness.

But damn it all, Dana's kisses are the sweetest in the world.

As I stood there trying to work out the kinks in my back, the doorbell rang again. Since Dana and Mom were already somewhere on the second floor, I went to answer it. A smile spread across my face at the gift-bearing visitors standing on the front stoop. "Hey guys. . .come on in," I greeted the trio. Byers stepped in first, Jimmy next, Langly bringing up the rear--they all filed pass me, piling the presents in my open arms. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

"It was Jimmy's idea," Byers stated. I noticed that he had left his narc suit at home for a change. Instead he was nattily dressed in a pair of pressed jeans, a light-blue golf shirt, and a pair of brand-new Nike sneakers that looked as if they had been spit-shined. Still a little fussy, but for Byers, it was a good start.

"I was taught you don't go to a new house without bringing a gift," Jimmy asserted. "It's supposed to be bad luck."

That really touched me for some reason. We may have gotten off to a rocky start, but I was beginning to understand that Jimmy was a pretty okay guy. "Well, thanks, man. Thanks a lot. That goes for Dana, too."

"Where is Dana?" Byers asked, looking around covertly. 

I placed the packages on top of one of the packing crates so I could close the door. "She's giving Mom the grand tour right now. She should be back soon."

"Damn, Frohike, you're gonna be unpacking until the day you die," Langly brilliantly observed, taking in all the boxes piled up around the room. "By the way, where's Billy?" Ringo Langly--the king of subtle. 

"He's sleeping. And if you were any kind of friend, you'd grab a box and get to it," I shot back at him.

"Guess it's a good thing I ain't any kind of friend, eh?" he wisecracked, flopping onto the couch.

"Nice try, Hairboy," I said, tossing him a sweeping wand.

He caught it defensively against his stomach, giving out a startled, "Oof!" Glaring up at me, he groused, "What the hell?"

"I've had a lot of strangers traipsing through here all morning," I explained. "Who knows if they decided to plant a bug or two? It never hurts to be careful." 

"Or mega-paranoid," he countered. 

"Just get to work," I ordered. 

With a muttered, "Slave driver," he dragged himself off the couch.

"Don't forget to check UNDER the furniture, too," I reminded him, sternly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied sarcastically, sweeping the wand around the room like an orchestra conductor. (That boy has a serious attitude problem.)

"Anything we can do, Mel?" Byers inquired, politely.  

So that explained the casual get-up--he was expecting to pitch in. Good ol' Byers. "Well, I guess we can probably start with the stuff in the kitchen," I suggested. "It's out of everyone's way, and we gotta have something to eat off of, right?"

"Right," he seconded before turning to our young partner. "Coming, Jimmy?"

"Sure thing, guys!" he responded eagerly. "What do you want me to do?"

God forgive me, I like the kid--I really do--but the last place I wanted him to be was anywhere around Dana's heirlooms. Some of those china pieces had been in her family for years, and while Jimmy's heart is in the right place . . . well . . . he's not exactly the most coordinated person on the planet, okay? Thinking fast to come up with some excuse that wouldn't hurt his feelings, I blurted out, "Actually, Jimmy--there are still some boxes and things outside in my trunk. Maybe you could bring them in for me?" 

Catching the keys that I threw him, he nodded enthusiastically, "You got it, Frohike." And with that he bounded out the front door. 

"Chicken," I heard Langly mutter under his breath as Byers and I passed by him on our way to the kitchen. 

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," I shot back over my shoulder. While Langly was still grumbling and cursing my ancestors, Byers and I each grabbed a box and started unpacking dishes and glasses. 

We had no sooner begun than Dana and her mom reappeared. "And then we're right back where we started," she said, obviously concluding her tour.

"I'll say it again, honey. . .this is a lovely house," Maggie marveled. "You two made a great choice, and I'm sure you'll be very happy here."

"Thank you," Dana replied sincerely, giving her mom a big hug.

"Hey, Frohike? Where do you want this stuff?" Jimmy asked as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen; he was carrying a large box overflowing with classified files and research materials. As competent as our movers were, there was no way I was letting them pack that on their truck--that's why I transported it myself.  Before I could respond to Jimmy's question, he smiled at the ladies. "Oh, hello Agent Scully. Mrs. Scully. Nice to see you again."

Maggie smiled back. "Nice to see you, too. . .Jimmy, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he beamed. "Jimmy Bond, at your service."

"Actually, you're at OUR service," I reminded him.

Dana just shot me 'the look', and chided good-naturedly, "Mel, did you put all the boys to work?"

I smiled. "Hey, what are friends for, right?" Turning my attention to Jimmy, I answered, "In the den. C'mon, I'll show you."

As we made our way to the den, we passed by the front door, which was wide open. "Jimmy, were you raised in a barn?" I scolded as I closed the door. 

A hangdog look on his face, he nodded towards the box he was carrying. "Sorry, Frohike. My hands were full."

I heaved a deep sigh--followed by a girlish squeak as the doorbell rang, scaring the holy heck out of me. When I could breathe again, I called out, "Yeah, whozzit?"

"Federal agents," answered a familiar female voice.

"Collectin' for the needy and unemployed," responded a familiar male voice.

With a chuckle, I opened the door to find Agents Doggett and Reyes standing on the front porch; each was holding a fancy-wrapped present. "What's goin' on here?" Doggett laughed. "It took me forever to find a parkin' space out dere."

"Didn't you hear? This is the new in-spot," I deadpanned, standing aside so they could enter.

"This place is great, Frohike," Reyes enthused. "Lots of yard space, nice peaceful neighborhood--I'm getting some really good vibes from this one. You guys really lucked out."

"Yeah, I know," I said, as they handed me their gifts. "And thanks. You really shouldn't have."

"Hey, a' course we shoulda," Doggett argued. "Mama always said it was bad luck to visit a new house widout bringin' a gift."

"I seem to remember hearing that somewhere," I joked.

"Monica?" Byers' soft voice breezed into the hallway. "I thought I heard you out here."

Her whole face lit up as he approached. "Hey, Johnny," she sighed, leaning into his open arms and giving him a hug. "Missed you, mollete."

I had to bite my hand not to burst out laughing--Byers simply shot me 'the evil eye' over her shoulder, even as he blushed a deep red. "You know what she said?" Doggett asked me.

"Yeah, I've picked up some Spanish here and there," I answered evasively, still trying not to laugh aloud.

He put his hands on his hips. "So. . .you gonna keep me in suspense here?"

Ignoring Byers' continued glaring, I whispered, "It's Spanish for 'muffin'." And then I totally lost it.

Doggett just grimaced and groaned, "Oh, God, that's bad. Makes me wonder what da hell she's been calling ME all these years!" With a snort, he added, "Then again, mebbe I'm better off not knowin'." 

If the two lovebirds heard us making fun of them, they pretended not to. Their friendly hug had evolved into a 'hello' kiss, and I found myself smiling at the couple. Monica had done wonders for John these last few months, helping to bring him out of his shell. She made him so happy, and I could tell from the sparkle in her eyes that he made her pretty happy, too. It did my heart good to see my best friend finally enjoying all that life had to offer--including the love of a good woman. 

"Awww, ain't that sweet?" Langly simpered as he flopped back on the couch. 

"Have you checked everything?" I quizzed. "The kitchen? The basement? The bedrooms?"

"Done and done," he answered, smugly. "You're as clean as the proverbial whistle." 

"What about Billy's room?"

He smirked. "Uh-huh. And I didn't even wake the little guy." As if on cue, the familiar cry that signaled Billy's nap was over echoed throughout the house. Before I could make a move, Langly jumped off the couch. "Chill out, I'll get him." And with that, he skipped up the stairs. 

I just stood there and laughed to myself. Sometimes it still amazed me how crazy Langly was over Billy. I couldn't wait for him to get married and have a few bambinos of his own. . .he was gonna make a great dad one of these days.

"Um, Frohike?" a tentative voice broke through my thoughts. I turned around to see Jimmy still standing there with the box of files. "Where's the den?"

Shit! I had gotten so distracted with our new visitors, I completely forgot about Jimmy. I passed off the gifts I was holding to Byers and asked, "Can you show these two where all the action is?" nodding at Doggett and Reyes.

He chuckled. "Sure, Mel. Come on--just follow me." And the three of them headed off to the kitchen as I led Jimmy to the study.

We were just coming out of the den as Langly was sauntering down the stairs cradling a groggy Billy in his arms; from the other side, Dana came out of the kitchen with Doggett and Reyes in tow, conducting a tour of the first floor. The place was starting to look like Grand Central Station. . .and as the doorbell rang again, I knew it was about to get even worse. "I'll get it," Dana announced, flinging open the front door.

"Looks like a party in here," Skinner commented as he strolled in.  Dammit, and I thought BYERS had gone casual. The stern, no nonsense AD was wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a baggy white tank top that had seen better days, and a baseball hat with the humorous saying, 'Who needs hair with a body like this?' (Braggart!) 

"It is now that you're here, Skinman," Doggett quipped.

"Guess it's a good thing we brought these," Mulder grinned, as he and Walter held up the twelve-packs of Heineken they were each carrying.

"Now those are my kind of housewarming gifts, Foxy," I joked.

"Frohike, only my honey bear here gets to call me Foxy these days," Mulder smirked at his lover. "Isn't that right, Wally?" 

We all laughed at that. . .well, all except Skinner. "Mul-l-l-der. . ." he growled menacingly, his cheeks burning bright. "You're asking for it."

"All day, every day," Mulder fired back, causing Walter to flush redder than a fire engine.

Sensing Skinner needed some rescuing, I spoke up, "Hey, let's get those bad boys in the fridge--keep 'em cold for later on."

"Sounds like a plan," Mulder concurred, handing his case to me so he could give my lovely wife a huge hug. "Congrats, Scully. This place looks like a winner."

Dana hugged her best friend tightly. "Thanks for coming, Mulder. And you too, Walter."

Skinner walked up to the pair and brushed a kiss over Dana's cheek. "You're welcome," he whispered tenderly, then turned to follow me into the kitchen.

"If you hurry back, you can join the final tour of the day," Dana called after us.

We got the beer in the fridge, and after Walter gave Maggie a quick hello hug, he rushed off to join the tour group. Me? I collapsed in a chair in the kitchen, more than ready to call it a day.