Title: Some Turbulence Expected (2/?)
  Author: Tesla
  Address: gah1093@hiwaay.net
  Rating: NC-17 (sexual situations, adult language & lawyers)
  Category: Mulder/Other
  Spoilers: Assume that this alternate universe careens off track after “Field Trip,”
            But spoilers for “Millenium” and “Orison”.
  Archive: Sure, everyone, I would be in a tizzy of pleasure and tell everyone I
  knew.
  Feedback: See above, only I’ll also write charming replies.
  Disclaimer: If Ten Thirteen is even reading this, settle with Duchovny!
  Summary: Continuation of “Flying Under the Radar”, and “Gaining Altitude”

  THANKS to Emerex for excellent beta work, and general encouragement, and to
  the small select band of folks on my reading list—and Fran58’s site, at
  www.atmosphere.be/media/fran58, which has my other stories.
 
 

   For various psychotic reasons, the Violent Crimes basketball guys
  decided to go bowling. The e-mail they sent Mulder even spoke wildly of joining
  a league. He burst out laughing at that, and he felt rather than saw Scully’s
  glare. He was quickly sobered by Henderson’s P.S. “We think Janet is a
  goddess.” But he recovered just as quickly, and before deleting it, forwarded it to
  Janet. Like a good little boyfriend, he told himself nastily. That was the problem:
  he could just barely wrap his mind around having a girlfriend, but being a
  boyfriend—being accountable—having to call and say he wouldn’t be
  home…felt…wussy.

  So, that evening, he went to his pickup game without calling, and lurched in,
  using his key, just when Leno was beginning his monologue. It was all rather
  anti-climactic; Janet was in bed reading some murder mystery involving cats,
  and looked up owlishly when he came in, flinging his basketball shoes and gym
  bag in opposite corners of the room. “Whassup?” she asked, one finger holding
  her place.

  “I didn’t call because we decided to play at the last minute,” Mulder said
  pugnaciously. He could at least get an argument going, roil the domestic waters
  a bit. He held the basketball at his hip.

  “You never call,” Janet said, letting her forehead crease. “I thought you went to
  your place. Or you were chasing mutants or something. Or subverting
  governmental order with Frohike.” She opened her book again. “There’s some
  pizza in the refrigerator,” she added. “I didn’t leave work until late, myself.”

  A little deflated, Mulder bounced the basketball a time or two. “No, I was at the
  gym—picked up a game—“ he dribbled over to the bed, and sat down. “I bet I
  can make the clothes basket,” he said, and shot the ball across the bed and
  Janet to the round Pier One basket in the corner. He yanked his shoes off.

  “Oh, am I supposed to be mad that I didn’t know where you were?” Janet asked.
  “Sorry, big guy. I had a few things to do.” She sat up. “Are we really going
  bowling?” she asked, sitting up. The covers slipped, revealing her bare breasts.

  Mulder stopped in mid-sock pull. To hell with the delights of solitude; here was
  two very good reasons to—gag—be a boyfriend. He rolled his socks up and shot
  them into the basket, too, followed by his sweats. “I really had a good game
  tonight, “ he said, getting under the covers and mashing the pillows more
  comfortably. “Can we watch Letterman?”

  “But William Shatner’s coming on Leno,” Janet said, holding the remote out of
  his reach.

  “Can I at least see who’s on Letterman?” he said, rolling over on one elbow and
  trapping the hand with the remote. They wrestled for a moment, until Janet
  suddenly relaxed and he pulled her on top of him. Her breasts bounced on his
  chest. “You’re fighting dirty,” he murmured, putting his hands on her hips as she
  pulled the sheet back.

  “I’m a goddess,” she whispered.
  “Just don’t stop to watch Shatner,” he said. “Ooh—don’t stop.”

  Later, he heard her murmuring, “But Shatner is the God Who Walks Among Us
  As Man,” and wondered if they should go to a Star Trek convention with Langley.
  He rolled over and fit his knees into the curve of her legs, and cupped her
  stomach with his hand. She slept on, and he blew her hair out of his mouth as
  she curled back against him in her sleep. His. She was his.