From: rac <rac@enook.net>
Date: Fri, 16 Feb 2001 09:38:42 -0500
Subject: stories for submission
Source: direct

Title: On the Beam 
Author: rac / April 1999
Website/page: http://enook.net/hl/rac/rac.htm

Rating: NC-17
Classification:  SR
Spoilers: Unrequited
Keywords: slash story, Mulder/Skinner
Summary:  The shortest distance on the right track between two 
solitary points isn't always a straight path.
Feedback  welcome: rac@enook.net

.o.o.o.


"Mulder, I'm fine."

"Respectfully, sir, that's a load of bullshit."

"Mulder, I just got winged."

"Sir, you've got a hole in the sleeve of your suit jacket, and a 
matching one going through your arm. That's a bit more than 
winged."

"Agent Mulder-"

"What's all this noise? Is the patient giving you problems, 
Mulder?"

"No, Scully, like you said, it's just a lot of noise."

"Good. Sir, you've got a choice of transportation: either go in 
the ambulance with the body to the hospital, or Mulder and I 
will drive you there immediately. Which would you prefer, sir?"

Both Scully and Mulder were fascinated by the display of flexing 
muscles in their boss' jaw.  

"Let's go, then."  With teeth-gritting gracious acquiescence, 
Skinner trooped over to the bureau car, trailing Mulder holding 
onto his arm like a leech.

"Keep that tourniquet tight, Mulder.  I'm not sure what was 
hit."

"Yeah, we don't want him bleeding all over the agency vehicle. 
Just think of the cleaning bill on the expense report."  Mulder 
flashed his boss a brilliant smile.

Skinner growled deep in his chest, and pointedly turned his head 
away from Mulder's pearly whites as they took off.

The traffic was fairly heavy as they made their way to nearby 
George Washington University Hospital. After a few blocks of 
silence, Skinner's soft rumble broke it.  

"Good work, Agents. I didn't think we'd manage to pull this 
assignment out of the fire."

"We weren't supposed to." 

 "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes...." Skinner sighed. "This 
will be one report of yours, Agent Mulder, that I'll read 
without having to suspend my disbelief."

"Now you see him, now you don't. The perfect covert ops man."
  
They subsided into silence again for the duration of the trip.  
As they stopped at the entrance to the ER, Assistant Director 
Walter Skinner started again to make noises of denial about the 
seriousness of his injury. Scully ignored him, coming around to 
hold his door open and stare determinedly at his mulish face.

"Out."

He stared back.

"Now. Sir."

Skinner's lips twitched once before he slid out, pausing to 
allow Scully to take over from Mulder's grip on the tourniquet.  
The Emergency Room doors swooshed back as they approached, 
nearly drowning out Skinner's softly worded observation.

"Except for your diminutive size, Agent Scully, you bring to 
mind a sergeant of mine from the Marines. Same steely glint in 
his eye; same no-nonsense bark."  He glanced down at her once 
through the corners of his eyes. "I can just picture you in a 
uniform, Scully."

The nurse and wheelchair Mulder had rounded up arrived then, 
precluding any response Scully might have made. With a bland 
look at them, their boss was wheeled serenely off to an exam 
room.

.O.O.O.

"My car is back at the scene," Skinner protested when he saw 
which direction they were heading.

"Not any more.  I dropped Scully off while you were being 
stitched up; she drove it back to the Hoover garage, then left 
the keys with Kim. Who, by the way, sends her best to you, and 
told Scully to tell you not to worry about the Caraccini sting 
operation, she's got the whole thing covered.  DAD Lewis has 
your assignment list and is working from the folder she prepared 
for him."

Skinner sighed.

"The other AD's regularly try to bribe Kim away from you, sir, 
you realize that."

"I know."

Mulder glanced at him curiously. "So what is your secret, sir? 
What's kept the Blonde Dragon from flying the coop?"

"The Blonde Dragon," Skinner repeated, bemused. "Are you 
accusing me, Agent Mulder, of doing something inappropriate to 
keep my assistant from transferring to another office? In 
effect, of bribing my employee?"

Mulder gauged his boss' tone, weighed the consequences and 
finally grinned. "Yeah. I am. Sir. So what do you do?"

Drug-hazy brown eyes managed to look hurt. "You don't think Kim 
would choose to be loyal to me simply because I'm a good 
supervisor and a decent human being?"

Mulder opened his mouth, thought for a minute, and changed his 
mind. "You're right. I stand corrected, sir. It was out of line 
for me to imply you resort to bribery to keep a good assistant 
in your office. Forget I said it."

"I will." Skinner winced as he moved his arm. "It's amazing how 
much she likes those weekly sessions with my masseuse at the 
Downtown Health Club, though.  Says it really rejuvenates her, 
and gets the kinks out."

Mulder nearly bit his tongue when the words registered. Laughter 
spilled out, all the way over the bridge and into the forest of 
modern high-rises that was Crystal City.

.o.o.o.

"I don't need your help, Agent Mulder."

"Just to be safe, I think I'll help you, sir."

"I can do this by myself, Mulder, I'm not a damn invalid."

"On the contrary sir, there's nothing of the invalid about you 
at all." Mulder watched as his boss aimed the key for the third 
try and missed again. "Just-a bit stoned."

Skinner blinked owlishly. "Stoned?"

Mulder appropriated the keys and opened the door. "Yes, sir, 
stoned. I think the doctor went a bit overboard with the 
painkillers."

Skinner stumbled into his apartment. "I told him I didn't want 
anything. The only thing he gave me was a shot for infection and 
some pills to follow up...Damn."

"Yup," Mulder agreed cheerfully. He took one last look at the 
suit coat and threw it over the back of a chair. "That suit's 
shot."

Skinner groaned. "Whatever pain medication he gave me, it's 
ineffective against your atrocious humor."

"I think I like you rather defenseless like this."

Brown eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't test the defenseless idea if I 
were you, Mulder."

"Who, me? Do I look stupid? Never mind, don't answer that. Why 
don't you go on up and rest like the doctor ordered."

"And leave you down here doing what?"

"If you don't want me to fix some dinner, just say so, sir."

Skinner sighed again, and walked wearily up the stairs. "Don't 
burn anything, and don't leave a mess."

Mulder mumbled loudly enough to be heard as Skinner trudged up 
the stairs, "Not stoned enough, evidently."

.o.o.o.


"I never got a chance to thank you for the other day, Mulder."

Mulder looked up and saw his boss standing in his basement 
office doorway, backlit and rimmed in bright light.  "At the 
time, I got the impression you weren't too thrilled with my 
reminder about the realities of what some government personnel 
are doing to its citizens."

Skinner stepped into the room further, hands in pockets, 
effulgent and alive with power. "I was referring to my hospital 
visit, and getting me home afterward. I never thanked you."

"Oh. I'm just glad it wasn't a serious injury, sir. There's been 
enough injuries and hospital visits, I think."

"Yes." Skinner stepped closer to Mulder's desk, covered in the 
papers and files he was reading. "About the Teager case 'being 
over'...I wanted to tell you something.  I think I owe you this.  
I had pursued the matter further before I backed down. I pursued 
it all the way behind the closed doors of the Senate Armed 
Services Committee. What I received were politely worded murmurs 
of shock and promises of looking into it. Then pointed glances 
at their watches."

"In other words, it was nothing more than a colossal waste of 
time."

"Yes." Skinner stood, looking down sightlessly at the floor. 
"When you said that Teager could have been me...that had already 
occurred to me." He took a deep breath, as if girding himself 
against something horrible. "I'm well aware that if certain 
sections of our government had a self-sufficient reason, they 
wouldn't hesitate to use me, or you, or any other citizen of 
this country, for their own ends. That in fact, this is what 
happened in this situation. Teager, you, Scully, me, my whole 
operations section. Set up. Used."

"Yes. And they got away with it. Just like they get away with 
everything else they're doing, whatever all of it is." Mulder's 
tone was bitter.

"They didn't get away with it completely, Mulder. You know. 
Scully knows. I know.  So do the other team members who heard 
Teager that day."

"Now we're simply further liabilities." Mulder rubbed his eyes 
wearily. "Ah, it's not worth thinking about now. Just more 
futility. You're working late on a Friday night."

"So are you." 

"Just trying to catch up on paperwork, the ban of my existence."

Skinner gave him a rueful look. "Mulder, you have yet to 
experience the peak of bureaucratic paperwork dealt with in the 
upper echelons."

"And at the rate I'm going, sir, I doubt I ever will."

They shared a rare moment of black humor in a meeting of eyes.  
Skinner broke it first, looking away and turning to leave. "I 
think I've had enough of the stink of Washington. I'm heading up 
to my place in West Virginia for the weekend."

"I didn't know you had property in West Virginia."

Skinner half turned in the doorway, framed once more by the 
bright florescent lights of the hallway. "Why should you? 
There's a lot you don't know about me, Mulder."

"Getting away from this place sounds great. Would you like 
company?"

The question popped out without warning. It was uncertain who 
was more surprised. Silence reigned for long moments as Skinner 
stood staring at Mulder. Just as the burn of humiliation began 
to color Mulder's skin and he opened his mouth, prepared to 
retract his ill-considered gaff, Skinner spoke gruffly.

"Okay. I'll drive by to pick you up in two hours. Don't make me 
wait. And pack something warm; it may be spring in the city, but 
in the mountains, it still gets chilly at night and the day 
takes its time warming up."

Mulder blinked and Skinner was gone, disappeared into the light. 
He sat silently at his desk in the remote basement office, 
twirling his pen for nearly half an hour. Finally he stirred, 
shaking himself out of the fugue he'd fallen into, and closed up 
shop, locking the door behind him.  He cursed his own impulsive, 
emotional nature the entire drive home.

.o.o.o.

"Lost City. Sounds like something out of Indiana Jones."

"It might as well be. It's pretty remote back here."  

"How long have you had this place?"

"I bought the property when I came to DC as ADIC of the 
Washington Field Office, seven years ago."

"It's a great getaway place. Did you and Sharon come here 
frequently?"

Silence met his question.  Skinner responded eventually by 
standing up and going over to the fireplace and kneeling down on 
the mica-laden stones, poking around to resettle the logs.

"Sorry, sir, that was-I shouldn't have asked that personal a 
question."

"No, Mulder, it's okay. We can't be formal and stand on ceremony 
all weekend. It's a perfectly normal question." Red and yellow 
sparks showered from the logs as he nudged them into a tighter 
formation, then added a new log on top. The pitch on the surface 
snapped and popped as it burned.  "Why don't you call me Walter, 
or Walt." He stood up. "Want a drink?"

"Sure. Got a beer?"

"Well..." Skinner peered into the cabinets. "You're in luck. It's
 
not chilled, though, only the unheated room temperature."

Mulder waved that consideration away. "S'okay."

Skinner came back around the island that separated the kitchen 
from the main great room with two glasses in hand and settled 
back on the couch. They sipped companionably, Skinner with a 
whiskey and Mulder with his slightly cool beer, before Skinner 
continued.

"We came up here occasionally. Sharon liked it. I'm not sure 
why, she wasn't very much of an outdoor enthusiast. Maybe she 
simply liked the fact that she had my undivided attention for a 
day or two. She always wanted me to get away, come up here more 
frequently." He sipped, his eyes pensive and sad, as they stared 
into the flames. "We came less and less, especially after I was 
promoted to AD over Criminal Investigations. By the time Sharon 
filed for a divorce, we hadn't been up here in well over a 
year." He paused, took another sip of whiskey and looked 
abashed. "And you can't want to listen to my maudlin 
maundering."

"Actually, I do. Really. You've certainly been privy to all my 
family's dirty laundry. At least, the ones I know about. I mean, 
it's refreshing to see the other sides of you, since normally 
you're in full AD mode with me."

Skinner shot Mulder an amused look. "That's because you're 
constantly challenging my authority on everything. I end up 
having to reassert my alpha male status over and over."

"Alpha male. Guess that makes me beta male of the pack."

"You hold your own, Mulder, have no fear. Who else has taken on 
the entire subversive bureaucratic community single-handedly? 
You do alpha pretty damn well."

"High praise, coming from a butch, alpha, ex-Super Marine."

Skinner snorted in derision. "Don't kid yourself. I bleed red 
like everybody else."

"Yeah, I know." Mulder was suddenly serious. "I've seen."

Four eyes caught and held, until Skinner stood. "Well, it's 
nearly midnight. If we're going to sleep in the beds, they'll 
need to be made up." 

"This couch is comfortable." At Skinner's ironic glance, Mulder 
jumped up. "Point the way to the sheets."

The vacation cabin was a two-storied log home with a staircase 
descending to the second floor from one end of the great room 
and a huge quarry rock fireplace standing solid at the other 
end. An open kitchen and eating section were partitioned off 
from the great room by the island and by judicious placement of 
furniture. A pantry, a mud/wash room and a garage rounded out 
the first floor. A balustraded balcony ringed the oval second 
floor opening under the two-story cathedral ceiling, with two 
bedrooms and a bath opening onto it.

Skinner pulled out sheets from the hall linen closet upstairs, 
and together, they made short work of the two beds.

Skinner indicated the additional quilts on a rack next to the 
bed. "In case you get chilly. It's going to take a while for the 
house to warm up since the heat was turned down so low. Anything 
else you need, just let me know."

Mulder gave him a faint smile. "I will. Thanks."

"Well, I'm going to stoke the fire one last time and lock up. 
I'm beat." Skinner left the room and called back from the 
balcony, "Sleep well, Mulder."

.o.o.o.

Maybe it was the absence of light; maybe it was the silence. 
Mulder came fully awake and blinked into the darkness, then 
turned to check the bedside clock. The numerals gleamed neon red 
in the murky black: 3:02. He lay restless, sighing. Maybe it was 
Skinner's last rumbled words to him, an official demand that he 
sleep well. Now his autonomic response of ignoring such orders 
was kicking in.

Then again, maybe it was simply Skinner himself, sleeping across 
the hall.

Mulder finally let that cat out of the bag, and sat back in 
amusement while it proceeded to tear around the rooms of his 
mind in a frenzy, uncontrollable and excited. When it finally 
settled down in the bedroom of his mind, lounging on the bed, 
Mulder knew there was no other choice. Or at least that he would 
make no other one.

He got up out of his bed, his toes curling against the chill of 
the bare wooden floors, and cast his die.

The bathroom had a convenient night-light, its warm muted glow 
just enough light to navigate clearly around the balcony to the 
other side. Skinner had left his door ajar, and the inky 
interior beckoned. The door pushed open without a squeak or a 
squeal, and Mulder had to grin. Everything in the house was 
maintained to within an inch of its life.

The bed lay against the far wall. Mulder's feet appreciated the 
scratchy warmth of the wool area rug as he padded soundlessly to 
the foot of the bed. In the dim illumination, all he could see 
was a vague mounding of covers on the king-sized bed. He had no 
idea which side Skinner favored.  

He stood quietly for a minute, debating his next action, when a 
voice and movement from the bed startled his heart into double-
time.

"Mulder. You going to stand there all night?"  Covers were 
thrown back on the right side, a clear and certain invitation.

He hesitated momentarily, thrown by the fact that Skinner seemed 
a step ahead of him. Then his night-adjusted eyes saw the stark 
vulnerability in the blunt features, the naked brown eyes 
staring at him. His limbs released from their paralysis, and he 
moved unerringly to the bared sheets, welcoming the cocoon of 
warmed quilts that was pulled back up and over him.

"Jesus, Mulder, your skin is freezing." Without hesitation, 
Skinner embraced him, spooning around his body and attempting to 
warm him with soft, rough swipes of his large hands. As their 
bodies curled together, it was the electric shock of the embrace 
more than the embrace itself which fired heat through Mulder's 
body, a blossoming chain reaction of blood surging to his 
extremities. Blood pooled and hardened him. In seconds, he was 
painfully erect.

"Guess some of you is hot." One of Skinner's rough-edged hands 
curled gently around his hip, nudging his erection, and he 
gasped, squirming from the unexpected stimulation.

Wanting to take back some control, Mulder turned within 
Skinner's embrace, and pushed the brawnier man flat on his back 
as he leaned over him. "Now I am. How did you..."

"Know?" Skinner's words were wry. "Give me some credit, Mulder. 
You're not the only investigator in this room who has good 
instincts. It was pretty obvious, anyway, don't you think? The 
sparks between us lit up rooms for years." Large hands trailed 
patterns of need down Mulder's lean spine. "Now you're here. 
Warm yourself up, Mulder. Take whatever you want." 

The low, hoarsely spoken words enveloped Mulder, creating a 
woven blanket of need as they intersected with hot skin and hot 
eyes. Mulder leaned down and touched his mouth to Skinner's, 
tentatively at first, then throwing caution to the winds, 
letting the luscious feeling of heated, ardent lips against his 
own seduce him into a delight of the senses. 

Warm, furred skin brushed against his chest, hard muscles 
beneath soft skin and prickly hair. His fingers sought out the 
patterns of muscles, dense firmness flexing under his probe. His 
mouth sought out the taste of neck and shoulder, tonguing the 
secret space behind an ear, enchanted by the unexpected feathery 
brush of hair against his nose.

"You've got hair."

"You sound amazed," Skinner was amused. "It's always been there. 
In fact, more of it used to be there. I wasn't born bald."

"I never noticed this before," Mulder drew fingers through the 
patch of soft, short hair across the back of Skinner's head from 
ear to ear. "I guess the light reflecting off the top of your 
head blinded me to it."

"Are you saying I dazzle you, Mulder?"

Mulder's teeth flashed white. "I was. Born bald, that is. My 
mother despaired I'd ever have hair."

"Contrary to statistical averages, I was born with a full head 
of dark hair, which my mother said never fell out like most 
birth hair does. Nature's little humor on me, I suppose."

"I like the look. You make up for it elsewhere." His hands 
tangled in Skinner's chest thicket.

Brown eyes looked solemnly up at Mulder. "Do you know what 
you're doing here, Fox?"

"Fox, huh." Mulder made a face.

"Yeah, Fox. Mulder makes it, I don't know, too much like in the 
office."

Mulder sighed. "Okay. Why'd you ask if I knew what I was doing? 
Do I seem that inept?"

Fingers trailed over Mulder's face, painting a line across his 
lower lip. "Fishing already? You know what I mean. This, us. You 
sure?"

"Shouldn't that be my line to you? I came to your room, after 
all."

"Yes, I know. You had to. If I'd made the first move, don't you 
see the position I'd have been in, being your supervisor? 
Harassment. Coercion. Duress. Corvee."

"Oh, I see. Droit du seigneur." Mulder grinned. "Kinky." 

Skinner grabbed a handful of Mulder's hair and pulled, shaking 
Mulder's head gently. "That's not exactly what I meant."

Mulder adopted a thoughtful look, his hazel eyes alight, as he 
moved on top of Skinner's body, aligning them together from 
chest to feet. "I think I can appreciate your position now." He 
moved, sliding against Skinner's body, dragging their skin 
together with a drugging friction. "But I think of it as more a 
kind of force majeure." He moved again, and they both gasped. 
"Inescapable. Inevitable." He moved a third time. "Am I 
communicating my position clearly enough?"

"Uhh...yeah, I get it," Skinner choked out. "Has anybody ever 
told you, Fox, you talk too much?" Skinner surrendered to the 
force majeure and rolled over on Mulder, devouring the mouth 
he'd been avidly watching as Mulder talked.

The sparks that usually played out in anger and combativeness in 
the office turned into incalescent hunger under the cover of 
night. This first time, it burned too brightly, too quickly for 
sophisticated maneuvers. They both discovered they had a 
penchant for taste, wanting to sample the variety and newness 
the other offered. The piled quilts shuddered and swayed, 
muffling moans emanating from beneath their undulating surface.

Under the covers, Mulder wrapped his own long-fingered hand 
around Skinner's, his head thrown back against the pillows as he 
cried out. "Yes! Oh god, yes, that's-ah, ah, oh..."

"Finally," Skinner panted against Mulder's neck, pausing to lick 
at a rivulet of beaded sweat meandering down Mulder's cheek and 
neck. "Reduced to incoherency."

"Shut up. Faster, harder," Mulder moaned, his one hand urging 
Skinner's on in the pursuit of their mutual ecstasy, his other 
splayed and grasping a handful of flexing, driving gluteus 
maximus. The split second bizarre realization he was going to 
leave dark fingerprints on the buttocks of the man who was his 
supervisor came and went, drowned under the more urgent 
considerations of moving just so, in just that rhythm, of 
needing and finding Skinner's mouth, his tongue, something suck 
on, now, now, now. The word replayed like a litany in his head. 
"Oh, god, now, now, please, now." Mulder's voice rose on the 
last word, punctuated with a small shriek as he erupted from the 
center of his being outward in all directions at once, sperm and 
emotions and consciousness exploding forth in a joyous 
affirmation of life. He felt as if he would simply fly up and go 
free of the boundaries of gravity, just fly right up with 
nothing to stop him, nothing to anchor him here except the 
trembling, moaning body in his arms. The man who now was 
crushing him into the mattress and pillow, his weight a welcome 
and marvelous thing to bear. 

Skinner's face was plastered to Mulder's neck, his breathing a 
raucous, noisy, living thing, the very hitches of Skinner's 
breath, the pounding of his heart in his chest pressed close to 
Mulder's own, were confirmations that Mulder hadn't experienced 
that moment alone. Not alone. Not alone. The words echoed in his 
head, an unexpected rush of feeling welling up in him.

"Fox." His name rumbled in his ear, followed by the sound and 
feeling of wet kisses. 

"Walter. You're alive."

"Hell, yes, I'm alive. My heart rate of 120 tells you that."

"But the rest of you is as limp as a dead body. And as heavy."

"Limp? Damn right I'm limp. I think you drained every erg of 
energy I have. I'm not a young man any longer. I'm more into 
marathons than sprints like this. Jesus."

"Then roll over, old man." Mulder pushed Skinner, who 
accommodated his request and rolled off Mulder and onto his 
back. Mulder threw back the covers and slid out of bed. "Damn, 
it's cold!"

Skinner watched and laughed, a deep, contented belly laugh, as 
Mulder sprinted out of the bedroom to the bathroom, fumbled with 
a washcloth to clean himself off, wet another and grabbed a 
towel, and sprinted back.

"I brave the freezing air to clean you up and all you can do is 
laugh?" Mulder had to bite back a request for Skinner to laugh 
again; it was the first time he'd heard the taciturn man sound 
so carefree and happy with laughter. He was swamped with the 
foreign desire to do everything he could to make Skinner laugh 
without stopping.

"I'm laying here uncovered, Fox, thanks to you. I'm fully aware 
of exactly how chilly it is. You're not freezing alone." Despite 
his words, the big man lay back among the pillows like a sated 
pasha.

Mulder used the warm washcloth on the other man, cleaning and 
drying him off with surprising care. He bundled up the linens 
and chucked them over by the door before crawling in under the 
covers and pulling them up over both he and Skinner.

They lay quietly, Skinner on his back and Mulder prone, touching 
all down the one side. Mulder's hand wandered even as his mind 
drifted, splaying over Skinner's chest, petting him absently, 
feeling the unusual sensation of another heart beat as he 
drifted off to sleep.

"Walter." Mulder's voice was the faintest of sounds.

"Hmm."

"No regrets."

"Mmm..." Skinner stretched and stirred, barely rousing from the 
sleep he'd begun to slip into as he turned instinctively toward 
Mulder, curling around him with arms and legs. "No regrets," he 
agreed, and sunk back into sleep again.

Mulder slept, feeling warm for the first time in months that 
night, a goofy smile on his face.

.o.o.o.

"I see I don't have to ask how your weekend was, Mulder," Scully 
whispered in Mulder's ear.

"What? Why?" The chair Mulder had been balancing back on two 
rear legs banged forward abruptly.  A few heads turned their 
way, and Mulder flushed, fixing his eyes sightlessly on the 
agent droning on at the front of the conference room.

Scully waited a few discrete moments before continuing. "Mulder, 
when you get lucky, you come in all, well, sort of lit up. It's 
cute."

"Cute? Thanks a lot. And what do you mean, 'all lit up'? How can 
you tell?"

"Just what I said. Sort of glowing. And I can tell because it 
hasn't happened all that often in the years we've been working 
together, Mulder."

"Great, Scully. First describe me like a virgin bride, then cut 
me off at the knees." He sighed and slumped back in his chair. 
"I should have stayed home in bed."

"Probably would have had more fun than being here this morning," 
Scully observed pithily. "Especially if you'd still have 
company."

Mulder's eyes strayed over to the wall where a certain tall 
figure stood leaning negligently, hip cocked and hand in his 
pocket. "Nope, sorry, partner went to work, too."

Scully sighed. "That's a shame. So tell me all about the 
weekend. Who, what, where, how, how many times, everything."

"Kiss and tell, Scully? I'm scandalized. I'll say this much, 
though. Five times."

"Five?" Scully hissed.

Mulder grinned evilly. "Once Friday night, twice Saturday, twice 
Sunday."

Scully subsided into glum silence for a few minutes before 
rousing again. "I admit, I'm jealous. You're going to have to 
help me find a boyfriend, Mulder. I'm getting desperate."

"There's always Frohike."

"Not that desperate," Scully gritted out. "Although I have to 
admit, Byers is looking good, which is starting to worry me."

Mulder sniggered.

"What do you think about-?" 

Mulder glanced at Scully, and followed the direction of her eyes 
across the room. "Absolutely not! Scully, no. Are you out of 
your logical little mind?"  He wondered if his eyes glowed a 
brighter green from the jealous possessiveness he was 
experiencing, and felt helplessly ridiculous. "That's our boss."

Scully gave Mulder an odd look. "Mulder, I was looking at him," 
she pointed discretely, "the one sitting there. I've never seen 
him before."

"Oh. Oh. Sorry." Mulder peered at the seated man, unsuspecting 
of the targeting crosshairs of a predatory female sighting on 
his helpless body. "Nice looking. Ask Kim, she knows everybody."

"Good idea."  Scully was still looking at him oddly.

The meeting broke up right then, agents filing down the aisles 
and out of the room in clumps of two, chatting. Mulder started 
when a voice spoke up behind them.

"Agent Mulder. May I talk with you for a moment?"

"Uh, yes, sir." He flushed, cursing his fair skin, knowing 
Scully's eyes were upon him.

"Agent Scully. Have a nice weekend?"

Scully blinked at the unexpected conversational sally from her 
boss. "Yes, thank you. I crewed for a friend sailing down the 
Severn to the Bay. It was lovely."

"I didn't know you liked to sail, Agent Scully." 

Mulder grinned at Skinner. "Why should you? There's a lot you 
don't know about us, sir."

"Then let's work on rectifying that state of affairs, Agent 
Mulder." Skinner kept his face expressionless as he turned and 
waited for Mulder to walk out of the conference room with him.

"Yes, sir." Mulder was aware of Scully's eyes upon them as they 
made their way from the conference room. The hallway was crowded 
with milling bodies. "Everything alright, sir?"

Intent brown eyes searched his face. "You tell me, Mulder."

"As far as I'm concerned, it is," Mulder stated quietly.

"Then it is as far as I'm concerned, also," Skinner replied in 
subdued tones.

They maneuvered around people waiting for the elevator; Skinner 
opted for the stairs. As the door shut heavily behind them, the 
background din of voices ceased and silence descended. Footsteps 
echoed as they walked up the first half-flight of steps. 
Mulder's feet hit the first landing and he found himself up 
against the wall, laughing breathlessly from the unexpectedness 
of Skinner's action.

"I just wanted to say a proper good morning." Skinner's body 
pressed in close, hands already buried in Mulder's hair, tilting 
Mulder's head at an angle as he invaded Mulder's mouth for a 
more intimate greeting.

Mulder could feel the edges of Skinner's buckle pressing against 
his stomach, could feel the press of semi-erect flesh against 
his own. He moaned, hands grasping and creasing the starched 
white shirt, knowing there would be nothing they could do about 
it all day long. His mouth was released. 

"Good morning, Fox." Skinner gave him that crinkle-eyed amused 
look that Mulder decided made his knees as weak as the sight of 
the man naked.

"Damn, Walter." He breathed deeply and licked his lips. "Closed-
circuit cameras."

"Oh ye of little faith. Please have some faith that AD does know 
where the bodies-and the cameras-are buried around here."

One last kiss was pressed against his mouth, a thumb slid over 
his cheek, then Skinner backed away and started up the second 
flight of stairs to the door.

They remained silent all the way down the hushed hall to 
Skinner's office, past Kim typing diligently at her desk, a 
handful of messages held out to Skinner as he passed by, and 
into his inner office, behind the tightly closed door.

Mulder smiled and shook his head as Skinner sorted through the 
stack of While You Were Out messages. "I had no idea that behind 
your staid and tightly leashed exterior there lurked the heart 
of a firebrand. Since when are you so easy with all this risk?"

Skinner perched a hip on the edge of his desk, long legs 
stretched out and crossed at the ankle. "Like you said, Mulder, 
we don't really know one another." Skinner looked pensive. "I 
used to be quite the risk-taker when I was younger. I don't know 
what happened to that person: life, the job, who knows. But 
since a certain iconoclastic individual has been in my life, 
he's made me question repeatedly all the things I'd thought I'd 
taken for granted."

"Shook you up, huh." Mulder toed the rug absently. "And how do 
you feel about that?" Skinner glanced at the door, and Mulder 
added, "I locked it."

"Good. Risk-taking is one thing, stupidity is quite another." 
Skinner reached out and drew Mulder's unresisting body between 
his long legs, wrapping his arms loosely about Mulder's waist. 
"How I feel, is alive for the first time in a long, long time."

"Good," Mulder whispered as he leaned into the embrace, his own 
arms going around the broad back. "Good." 

They stood in that tableau for some minutes, each drawing 
unspoken strength from the warmth and scent of the other.

Mulder moved his mouth near Skinner's ear. "How I feel, is not 
alone, Walter, for the first time in twenty-five years." 

The words feathered across Skinner's skin, both meaning and 
delivery arrowing straight inside and causing his arms to 
tighten almost painfully around Mulder. "This isn't going to be 
easy." Mulder shook his head against Skinner's neck. "But it's 
already worth it." Mulder nodded in agreement.  

The intercom buzzed, breaking the silence. Walter detached an 
arm to hit a button. 

"Agent Delucas is here for his appointment, sir."

"I'll be just another minute. Have him wait."

Skinner sighed. "And so it begins."

"How about...pizza and the Final Four game tonight?" Mulder looked 
hopeful. 

Skinner grimaced. "Make it pasta, and you're on."

Mulder stared at the other man, hands smoothing over his 
shoulder absently. "There's got to be a catch somewhere, doesn't 
there? It can't be this easy."

Skinner grinned almost predatorily in reply. "Just wait until 
you send me your first stack of 302s, or I have to read your 
first report and rake you over the coals. Tell me it's easy 
then."

Mulder sighed glumly. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Come on, duty calls." Skinner stood and walked over to the 
door. "You've got to go back and face Scully's inquisition now."

"Shit." Mulder stood stock still as Skinner paused with his hand 
on the doorknob. "You're right. Did you see the look on her face 
this morning? No, you didn't. Damn, I may have planted a 
suspicious seed accidentally. What am I going to tell her you 
wanted to talk to me about?"

"I thought you liked living dangerously, Agent Mulder. That's 
your responsibility." Skinner opened the door. "Let me know what 
you come up with."

Mulder glared at Skinner as he exited. "Yeah, I'll make sure and 
give you an update." He loped out of the office with an odd 
expression on his face.

"Agent Delucas." Skinner held the door open as the newly 
assigned Criminal Investigations agent went on in to the AD's 
office. "Hold my calls, please, Kim."

"Yes, sir." 

The door shut to Skinner's inner office, and Kim smiled. She 
thought her boss must have gotten the best of Agent Mulder early 
this Monday morning. He was in an unusually mellow mood. She 
couldn't help but think it boded well for the rest of the week.


--the end--

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