R2-Nicole-p2
November 24, 1999
11:00 a.m."Do you mind if I turn up the heat a bit, sir?" Mulder asked.
"Please call me Walter, Fox," Skinner said, hiding a smile as Mulder's face brightened then flushed.
"Oh, yes, well thank you, Walter…uh could you just call me Mulder? I really hate Fox. No offense or any attempt to keep distance between us…I just really hate it."
Walter smiled, "Okay, Agent Mulder."
"No, I mean, just Mulder. Agent Mulder is so formal." He turned his face toward the window.
"Okay, Mulder."
"Thanks."
Skinner grinned. "Don't mention it. Just be prepared to having my mother calling you whatever she likes. If you she likes you, and I know she will, be prepared for a pet name. My mother is big on pet names."
Mulder's eyes widened and then grinned, "Oh great! Tell me she doesn't call you Snookems!"
Walter laughed, "God no!"
"So what does she call you?" Mulder's eyes sparkled with a happy deviousness.
"Sir," Skinner deadpanned. Mulder's laugh was infectious and they both were caught up in the mood. After a few minutes had passed Skinner looked toward his agent, his brown eyes warm and filled with easy humor and a small flicker of desire. "So what would you call me…were you to pick a name for me?"
Mulder raised his eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Well, that depends."
"On what?" Walter asked, enjoying the easy banter. No matter what happened he would want Mulder's friendship. He was so special and there were too few people who saw it. He wanted to be counted among Mulder's friends.
"On how close we were," Mulder said lightly, but the small smile on his pretty lips was flirtatious. "If we are friends I might call you, Bear."
Walter tilted his head back and rubbed his bald head, "Because I'm so hairy?"
"No, because you're so big."
"Ah-ha," Skinner nodded.
"And if we were…closer, well, I don't know…maybe…Snookems."
Walter laughed until he thought they would end their trip quite suddenly in a blaze of flames as he crashed the SUV. "You are incorrigible, Agent Mulder! You really are."
Mulder leaned back in his seat and let the warmth of the camaraderie fill him. "So I hear, so I hear."
Walter turned to check traffic and was surprised as Mulder asked, "What would you call me?"
Walter knew without a doubt what he wanted to call Mulder.
"Well?" Mulder asked quietly.
"Fox," Walter growled.
Mulder had to laugh again. "And if you wanted me to respond?"
Walter took a deep breath. "Baby."
Mulder flushed to the roots of his hair, but he couldn't stop the rush of pleasure that enveloped him. "Oh!" he breathed.
Walter cursed under his breath, "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Mulder."
"No, don't be. I think you know that I…well that I am not straight…I…"
"Straight or not, Mulder, it was inappropriate and I'm sorry. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I don't want or expect anything from you. I just want to be your friend. I'd like that very much." Walter kept his eyes on the road a small tick playing over the muscles of his square jaw.
Walter didn't *want* anything from him. That was not surprising. Mulder was a mess…had allowed himself to become another man's pawn. He was Spooky Mulder! Why would someone like Walter S. Skinner want him? "You already are my friend, Walter. You are one of the only people I truly trust. For me that is…well it is special."
Walter looked at Mulder, there was a decidedly dejected tone in his voice. "I am happy to be among those few. And Mulder?" Mulder's eyes met his and he wanted to kiss the pouty mouth. "I am not exactly straight either. I think you know that already as well. Believe me, if you weren't one of my agents you might know that much more intimately."
Mulder stared at the handsome man. "Maybe I will just resign then." His voice was steady but his pulse thrummed erratically.
Walter's face reflected his surprise and pleasure at those words.
"Or maybe you could," Mulder teased, injecting some of their former lightness back into the atmosphere. His eyes strayed to devour the big body so close to him. Ever since he had first seen Walter so long ago he had loved that body. Over the years he had grown to respect and admire the man beneath the delicious frame. He had protected Skinner when he could and fought for him when he needed him to, just as Skinner had done for he and Scully. Why couldn't Skinner have been the first man he had worked for? What kind of agent would he be now? What kind of man?
Skinner smiled slowly, "I might just be tempted to do that."
The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence. Skinner didn't ask Mulder to speak of his early experiences and Mulder was not eager to speak of anything that would spoil the good mood. Today was going to be spent giving thanks for what he did have. Not what he wished he had had in the past. He didn’t look at Skinner, but he could picture him perfectly, could feel the heat of him, could smell the faint hint of after-shave. He knew what he was going to be giving the most thanks for.
Just as they were turning up a tree-lined, residential street, Mulder's cell phone rang. He answered it with a typically curt, "Mulder."
Walter sneaked a look at Mulder and knew by the softening of Mulder's features and the little, goofy grin that it was Scully calling.
"Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Scully. Are you at your mother's?" Mulder paused and smiled at Skinner. "Thanks for the invite…again…but I am actually spending my Thanksgiving elsewhere." He laughed, a sexy chuckle that went straight to Skinner's groin. "No, Scully, not cheese steaks with the guys." Hazel eyes met Skinner's. "I'm with a friend. A good friend." Another chuckle, "Now, Scully, don't be mean. It is a real person!" Another smile, "You do not know all my friends…well okay so you do, but I have to go now. We are just going in to eat." Skinner pulled into the long driveway as Mulder wrapped up his conversation with Scully. "You too. Oh, but that doesn't mean I don't want the usual care package of food. Okay, bye…see you on Monday."
Skinner stopped the car and before he could say a word the door opened and three young children raced out. They made a beeline to Walter's door and Walter had to gently open the door so as to not bump into any of them. Once he opened the door he scooped two of the children up in a big hug and kissed the third. The two girls in his arms covered his face with little, adoring kisses and Mulder had the unfortunate experience of being jealous of two little girls.
"Who's that?" the little boy asked, pointing to Mulder.
"He's my friend, Mulder," Walter replied. To Mulder he said, "And these three are my sister Anne's children. Sarah, Elizabeth and The Rock."
Mulder grinned as the little boy puffed up proudly. "My name is the rock, 'cause I am tough."
"I'm tough too," the little red-haired Anne proclaimed.
"Me too," the youngest girl said shyly, hiding her face in her uncle's big neck.
"C'mon, Mulder, let's get inside." Walter waited for Mulder to join he and the three children on their side of the SUV and together they walked to the house.
"I made a pie, just for you, Uncle Walter," Anne said, kissing his face again.
"No! Mom did," the Rock insisted. "She's lying again, Uncle Walter."
Anne's eyes filled with tears. "I did so! Mom told me I was a good helper...she said so!"
Walter kissed her little rosebud mouth. "I bet you did. I can't wait to taste it." He ruffled the rock's hair a bit and gave him a very watered down version of his disapproving frown. To Mulder the look more like one of tender love than one of disappointment. The little boy didn't seem particularly intimidated as he rushed into the house ahead of them.
Mulder didn't have time to be nervous as the family descended on he and Walter and after a brief introduction Mulder was accepted and made to feel inordinately welcome.
***
Mulder sat on one of the comfortable green leather chairs watching one of the football games with Walter, his brother James and brother-in-law Seth. The women were in the kitchen. Mulder had thought they were cleaning up after the meal and had felt he should at least offer to help, but he had been informed that he was to stay in the family room and watch the game. He had been unable to stop chuckling when Walter leaned in to whisper what the women were really doing. Poker. They were playing poker. They used chips not real money, but it still was entirely too entertaining. He actually wanted to go in and play with them, but there was a no men allowed quarantine in effect. What had further amazed him was Walter's open affection with him. There were the little touches on his leg, the frequent squeezes on his shoulder, his open, easy smile. Walter with his family was not completely a different person, but he was definitely more at ease. Mulder sneaked another glance at Walter, nearly sighing as Walter tipped a moisture-beaded bottle of beer to his lips. The movement of his throat as he swallowed captivated Mulder.
Walter's mother had sat next to Mulder during dinner. She had called him Mulder during dinner and Mulder was strangely disappointed that she hadn't given him a name. It was silly, he knew it was obvious that she liked him well enough. She patted his hand, and when she handed him a piece of pecan pie, she called him darling and Skinner had smiled at him with a smug look. Mulder hadn't cared.
***
As they drove back to Walter's home Mulder was lost in thought.
"Mulder? Are you all right?" Walter asked finally. They were close to his home and he was wondering if Mulder would possibly want to stay the night. He didn't allow himself to think of where he wanted Mulder to sleep.
Mulder nodded. "I really love your family, Walter. I want to thank you for sharing them with me today." Mulder sighed. "I suppose I should go home." He didn't want to. He wanted to stay with Walter. Even if it meant sleeping in the guest room and not where he really wanted to sleep. He couldn't imagine anything better than to sleep wrapped in those strong arms.
"Why don't you stay?" He tried to affect casual interest while his pulse raced. "You did say you wanted to drag me to the sales tomorrow," he reminded.
"Oh yes, that's right. I guess I better. But I don't have anything to wear. I can't keep wearing this suit. Even Armani needs a rest now and again."
Skinner thought for a moment. "You can wear some of my jeans…I have an old pair that should fit you."
Mulder doubted that but he eagerly agreed. Neither man choosing to even think about the logical alternative. That Mulder could meet Skinner the next day. Once they entered the apartment, Skinner suggested that Mulder go get ready for bed. Mulder looked at him askance and Skinner chuckled.
"I'm not suggesting that you have to go to bed, Mulder. I just thought you might like to get out of that suit. You can borrow my sweats again if you like."
Mulder smiled, "Yeah, you're right."
"If you like, I'll pour us some brandy and if you want to talk we can." Skinner stared at Mulder with an intensity that was almost tangible. "I want you to feel comfortable though, so if you are tired…we can talk later."
Mulder did feel tired, but he wanted to spend more time with Skinner. He wanted to hurry through changing so he could get back down with Walter. "I am tired, but I think some Brandy would be nice," Mulder said, already moving toward the stairs.
Skinner watched him go and for one moment he was consumed with the need to touch him, make love to him, tell him how much he had always wanted him. The shameful thing was that even when he was married to Sharon he had wanted Mulder. He had just set the two brandy snifters on the coffee table when Mulder came down the stairs. He wore the too-big sweats and T-shirt and a sheepish expression. Walter gave him a questioning look, but Mulder just sat down on the couch. Walter poured the brandy into the warmed glasses and sat next to Mulder. "So, Mulder, here's to you," he toasted, lifting his glass as he handed Mulder's his. They took a drink and Mulder smiled as the fine alcohol seemed to evaporate in his mouth.
"This is good. I never knew I liked brandy. I guess I just assumed that I didn't."
Skinner smiled and swirled the amber liquid. "Anything can be good, if it is of the best quality. Frankly I'm surprised that you never tried it."
"Oh, I did, but somehow it is better now. Maybe it's the company," Mulder said with quiet sincerity. He felt shy somehow. He'd known Skinner for years, but this was something new. "You know, I didn't go to Statler's party that weekend."
"No? Why?" Skinner asked. He leaned back and made himself more comfortable.
"I wanted to, but Patterson assigned me to an out of state case. I guess that was his first intervention really. Aside from his way of keeping the other agents and me at odds. He kept me busy on case after case, which was fine, but he let the other agents know that I was making them all look bad. I wasn't either. I mean they were all good, he just kept up with the little comments, the way he kept me at his side from the very beginning. After a week with BSU I wasn't as excited to get ready for work. I still loved the work, I really did, and I thought that the other agents would warm up soon. Bill assured me that they would." He looked at Walter with wounded eyes. "I trusted him, Walter. He made everything seem like it would work out. I remember the day before Halloween…I was sitting at my desk as the other agents planned a party around me…openly and obviously excluding me. I knew they wanted me to hear their plans. It hurt. I hate to say how much it hurt. To know that not only did my co-workers not want me to be a part of the party they were having, but that they wanted me to *know* it."
Skinner swore, "I can't believe how they behaved! I'd love to meet up with just one of them!"
Mulder smiled slowly. "You and me both. I was trying to sink into my desk when Patterson called me into his office."
***
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington D.C.
October 30, 1986
10:30 a.m.Mulder looked up as Patterson approached his desk. He smiled a bit up at the older man.
"Mulder, I'd like to see you in my office," Patterson ordered.
Mulder stood quickly, spilling papers everywhere in his haste. A few laughs made him look up beneath his long lashes to see a few snickering faces and he blushed. "Yes, sir…I'm coming," he breathed, trying to straighten up his mess. Following Patterson to his office Mulder asked, "What are you doing for Halloween, sir?"
"What? Oh my brother is having a get together," Patterson said, he was distracted by Mulder's scent. He smelled so good, always, like he had just stepped out of a shower, yet there was that sweet musk too. Patterson wondered how Mulder would smell after sex. He wanted to sit Mulder down on his desk, take down those absurdly expensive trousers and bury his face at the crux of his thighs, see how he smelled there.
"Oh…yeah me and some friends are going out to a bar," Mulder lied. He had thought about calling some of his academy friends, but had left it too late.
Patterson raised one brow. "I see." He sat Mulder down on one of the chairs and stood beside him, very aware of the fact that his crotch was so close to Mulder's face. "You seem so tense, Fox. Are you having any difficulty that you want to talk about?" His voice was concerned, but he knew Fox would never complain about the treatment Patterson could see he was receiving. It had only been a week and there had been a few agents who had actually spoken favorably of Fox's work. Patterson smiled as he remembered agreeing with one of the agents. He had then dug in his own little knife by suggesting that the man, a veteran agent pay close attention to Fox's methods that he might do better. The man had been understandably affronted. He didn't think the man would ever compliment Fox again.
"No, everything's fine, sir. I'm settling in great." Mulder managed a smile for his boss.
Patterson placed a hand on Fox's shoulder and squeezed, "Call me Bill, Fox. We can dispense with the formalities when we are alone." He moved behind Fox and placed both hands on his shoulders, rubbing the tense muscles. "You really are tense, Fox, maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Go get ready for the weekend. I'll call you later tonight. You don't want to overdo it." He bent slightly to catch a whiff of Fox's thick hair. He couldn't resist pressing the beginning of an erection against the back of Fox's chair. "Go on, that's an order," he managed to say casually.
Mulder didn't argue, the feel of Patterson's hands on his shoulder made him uncomfortable. He knew that the man was simply trying to be kind, but he was unused to such gestures and with a grateful smile he left.
Hours later, sitting in a bar, Mulder turned to the man sitting at his side. The man was drunk, as drunk as Fox himself was.
"Stay away from red-heads, Froxy, they'll eat you alive. I married one, I should know," the man sighed into his glass of vodka. "Eat you alive."
Fox thought of the man in the pool at the Hoover building and he blushed. Now that one he would *want* to have eat him alive. What would Quentin say about that?
***
Viva Tower
Skinner's apartment
November 24, 1999
11:20 p.m.Skinner choked on his brandy at that last little bit. Mulder set his glass down, concerned as he patted Walter's back.
"I'm fine…really…go on. You were saying how you wanted the man from the pool to eat you alive," Skinner wheezed, his cock twitching with unruly lust.
Fox flushed, "Yes, well I was drunk, but you know what…I still think of that moment. I knew then, drunk at some bar on M Street, that I really wanted that man. I didn't know his name and I didn't see him again for a long time, but I still think about how he looked, coming out of the water. Anyway, I left the first bar and wandered down M Street. I found my way to a small, dark bar. I think I knew it was a gay bar the moment I walked in, but I didn't want to have to think about it. I think I just wanted someone to talk to me."
"And of course someone approached you immediately," Skinner growled, feeling inexplicable jealousy.
"Yeah, well not right away, but I do remember kissing some man…I don't remember his name or if I ever knew it, but I remember the kiss. That scrape of whiskers on my lips. It…it made me hot and ashamed at the same time. I wasn't ashamed of wanting a man, but what Bill would think of me. Crazy huh? Here I am feeling like he would think less of me for kissing a man, when he wanted to do so much more than that to me? I took a cab home, really late."
***
Washington D.C.
October 31, 1986
2:45 a.m.The cab dropped him off in front of his apartment building and he touched his lips reflectively. Not long ago a man had called his lips beautiful and sucked them into his hot mouth and nibbled on them. He got an erection just thinking about that moist embrace. He realized, with a grin, that he hadn't even gotten the man's name.
"Agent Mulder!"
He turned clumsily toward the angry voice to see Patterson getting out of a car parked right in front of his apartment. "Sir? What are you doing here?" he asked trying to clear his muddled thoughts.
"I came by to talk to you about a case…and you weren't home," Patterson accused. "And now you come back in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass!"
Mulder looked down at his feet, suddenly ashamed of himself. Not once considering how odd it was that his superior was waiting up for him like some worried parent. It was nearly three in the morning and he was standing before his mentor with an erection. He wanted to disappear into the ground as Patterson's eyes found the large bulge pushing against the tan cotton of Mulder's pants.
"I'm sorry, sir…it's Saturday…I didn't expect you…" He moved a guilty hand in front of his pants trying to hide the evidence of his arousal. The erection was shrinking under Patterson's stare. There was an odd gleam in his eyes as he stared at Mulder.
"Crimes happen even on Saturday. Even when agents of the law prefer to party. Only the best agents realize that," he spat out. "Maybe I was wrong to think you had what it takes to be the best kind of agent."
Mulder reached out a hand and touched Patterson's arm, 'No, sir, please don't say that. I just wanted to have some fun. I haven't gone out in months."
"I see, well don't let me keep you. I'll just go home now." Patterson didn't move toward his car, despite his angry words.
"No, no don't. I'll…make some coffee. You can come up to my apartment and tell me about it," Mulder promised.
"You're drunk," Patterson ground out.
"I…I'll be able to pay attention," Mulder insisted as he walked backwards toward his steps. "Promise."
Patterson followed the pretty man to the door. His pulse thrummed and he tried to think of a case to talk about. In truth he had just wanted to see *his* agent. God he looked so beautiful, tipsy, swaying and eyes wide. Mulder needed him, he knew. Mulder would jump through any hoop to please him. After all he was the only one who was kind to Mulder on the job. Following Mulder up four flights was like a scene from an erotic movie, those long legs, that tight, round ass. He wanted to have those legs pushed up in a V, spread so wide it was almost painful…God he wanted to fuck that ass…just pound into it all night long. Mulder looked over his shoulder at him and smiled unsurely. Maybe he would fuck that mouth instead. Fuck it so deep that no sound could escape. How would Fox's eyes look as he face was fucked? He clenched his fists to keep those delicious thoughts at bay. Already he had been rewarded with a salary increase and accolades for his department's recent successes. He couldn't afford to toy with the goose that laid the golden eggs, but damn how he wanted to. When had he felt this out of control before, he wondered. The idea that Mulder might not even protest too much made his cock a hard lump in his expensive trousers. When he would have lost control and tackled the young man there on the stairs, he stopped.
"Agent Mulder, I've changed my mind."
That painfully beautiful face turned to him, anxiety clearly staining the smooth skin.
"I am tired, you're tired. I'll talk to you tomorrow…or Monday. I'm sorry I came down on you so hard. I was worried about you," he ground out. The urge to cover Fox was so strong. But, he had to think. Had to plan some way to get what he wanted and to keep Mulder working hard to solve the cases sent to him.
"Okay, if that is what you want," Mulder whispered.
Patterson smiled cruelly. Fox was really so easily led. "Get to bed," Patterson said, quickly banishing the vision of that body laid out for him. He probably had little white sheets too. "I'll take you to a late brunch tomorrow."
Mulder smiled, a brilliant smile, "That sounds great, sir."
***
When Mulder yawned tiredly, Skinner stood. "Okay that's enough for tonight."
"No, I wanted to tell you about the case…the one that started it all."
"Mulder you're tired. This isn't easy for you," Walter said gently.
"It was the case that had me stumped for the first time."
Walter sat down again. "Tell me about the case and then off to bed. I mean it Mulder."
Mulder smiled. "Okay. Well, really it was such an odd case. I mean the first body was found missing its right hand…just its right hand. No other damage to the body at all. Forensics couldn't pinpoint what had killed the man...the hand had been taken before he had died, but he didn't die from blood loss. In fact he died so soon after the amputation that there was very little blood at the scene. When another body was found missing a left hand, same MO the F.B.I was called in. For four months bodies were found, all young men, all extremely attractive, but different. Some blondes, some brunettes, but all white, twenty to twenty-five. That's when I got the case. The only thing I could come up with at first was that they were all closeted homosexuals. But, none of them knew each other and none of them had appeared to have frequented any gay bars. Each body was missing part of their anatomy. Some, such little pieces, eyelids…maybe just the nails from their fingers. One had his hair removed…all of it." Mulder shuddered at the grisly memories and Walter stood again.
"Mulder, please. It's late."
Mulder nodded. He wasn't eager to get it out anymore. "You're right. We are both tired."
"Tomorrow, we shop and talk about anything you want. Is it a deal?" Walter asked gently.
Mulder nodded, a small tired smile on his face. "Deal."
End
Eli's turn