TITLE: Sad Lovers and Giants 02/? - White Russians
NAME: Mik
E-MAIL: ccmcdoc@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: M/Sk
RATING: NC-17. M/Sk. This story contains slash i.e. m/m sex. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution. Of course if you have four arms you can throw caution to the wind.
SUMMARY: A blizzard. A power cut. Finding their way in darkness.
ARCHIVE: Only with my permission.
FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is right after 3.
KEYWORDS: story slash angst Mulder Skinner NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. I'd rather say that they really are mine, but I've been advised to deny everything. But when I become king...

Author's notes: Sad Lovers and Giants, the two things hardest to conceal.

If you like this, there's more at https://www.squidge.org/3wstop

If you didn't like it, come see me, anyway. Pet the dog.

Sad Lovers and Giants 02/? – White Russians

by Mik

Despite my long tenure in law enforcement, and my years of association with the X Files, or perhaps because of those things, it was unusual for me to be surprised by anything. But a Friday morning recently altered the curve for me. It was a surprising morning all the way round. I was in Buffalo, New York, against my wishes, with a drift of paperwork on my desk back in DC to rival anything outside my hotel window. And yet, I was standing in the connecting door of my room, my hands full, looking down at the bed in the other room, and smiling.

He was curled up at the edge of the bed, both hands fisted against his mouth, that incorrigible hair drifting across his brow. He looked surprisingly cute. Surprisingly, I was actually thinking with terms like 'cute'. Surprisingly, despite the blizzard raging outside, I woke up to bird songs and sunshine. All because of a few desperate kisses and clumsy mutual masturbation.

I should have been riddled with guilt; someone knew my secret, and that someone was a male subordinate. But I decided somewhere between coming that night and the coming of the day, to leave the angst to Mulder. He was much better at it. I was going to enjoy it as long as I could.

Leaving part of my burden on the nearest table, I moved across the room to nudge his side of the bed with my knee and waited for him to brush impatiently at the air. "Hey," I called, with a foreign softness to my voice. "Remember those resource allocations we were discussing last night?"

"Smf?" He twisted and wiggled but did not open his eyes.

I smiled. No, I believe I actually beamed. Kneeling on the floor next to him, I carefully pried a plastic disc away from the object in my hand and waved said object near Mulder's nose. "Remember?"

His eyes flickered open, widened to focus on me, then shut again tightly. "It wasn't a dream," he croaked.

"Well," I rocked back on my heels, "at least you didn't say nightmare."

He screwed his eyes tighter then opened them again. "Oh, no." His voice was soft yet husky from sleep. He pulled a hand free from the tangle of blankets and reached awkwardly for my forearm. "Not at all."

"Hmm." I decided not to ask for more than that before his morning caffeine. I waved the cup at him again. "They used the generator to make coffee this morning."

The smell had an almost levitating effect. He shifted, wriggled and squirmed until he was upright in bed and reached for the cup. "Thank God for resource allocation," he said with feeling. "I need this fix." He sipped and sighed. "As you might have noted..." he paused to rub one eye with the heel of his hand, "...I am not at my most gracious first thing in the morning."

I didn't bother to contain my smile. "Which is why," I said, nodding toward the table on what had become 'my' side of the bed, "I commandeered two cups for you."

He took a loud slurp. "If you commandeered doughnuts, there might be a Medal of Honor in it for you."

"No doughnuts. From what I was able to gather, there will be some attempt at preparing at least one meal, but it will be some time from now. However..." I struggled to my feet and moved to the window, "there appears to be a convenience store across the highway. I'm wondering if the owner could be persuaded to open his doors."

He squinted at the blackened sky I revealed when I pushed the drapes away. "You're not thinking about one of us going out in that." It wasn't a question.

His tone surprised, and on another level, pleased me. It seemed to suggest he felt a little more than obligation to me. "Oh, I managed worse than this when I was a kid," I answered breezily.

"Yeah, and I walked barefoot in snow, uphill both ways, myself." He pushed the bedclothes back and came to the window, cupping his coffee against him like a holy chalice. "I'll go with you."

"There's no need for both of us getting snowed on," I countered. "Get back in bed. Enjoy your coffee while it's hot."

He lowered his eyes to the cup in his hands. Then he looked out the window. For a moment I thought he was going to make one more obligatory protest, but that's not Mulder's style. "Will you bring back some sunflower seeds?"

"I wouldn't think of making you forego your only source of nourishment," I chuckled. "Anything else?"

He was already climbing back into bed. "Maybe some magazines ... crosswords, whatever." He punched pillows. "And candles." He tugged at the bedclothes. "And slim jims..." He shrugged. "Whatever looks good."

"I'll use my judgment." I went back through the connecting door for a gulp of my coffee and to pick up my wallet and topcoat. Returning to the door, I announced, "I'll be back as quickly as I can."

He frowned at me as I slid into my coat. I paused, mid-slide. "What is it?"

His eyes were fixed just above mine. "Don't you have a scarf or a cap or something? Seventy percent of body heat is lost through the head." He put his coffee down and crawled over the bed. In another moment he was crouched and rifling his bag. He came up with a black knit ski cap with a rolled brim. "Here. This will help." Without warning or permission he reached up and tugged it firmly over my scalp, his expression full of intent.

Suddenly, he froze, aware of me watching him. "Ummm..." he pulled his hands away, "that should help," he repeated in a mumble. He backed up to the bed, looking anywhere but at me.

That was the second indication of discomfort. I'd never known Mulder to avert his eyes from anything. This was a man who would watch the bullet leaving the gun as it raced toward his head. "Are you all right?" I asked, trying not to release the swelling of anxiety behind my dam of exterior calm.

He nodded, still not looking at me. "That was just..." he rubbed at that nose, "...weird."

Having never been in a situation of this nature before, I wasn't sure if there were rules I might break if I actually acknowledged we'd begun some sort of ex cathedra relationship. So, a bit helplessly, I asked the first thing that occurred to me. "Bad weird?"

He cracked a smile. "No." He let his eyes come back to mine, and the smile remained. "Just weird." He rubbed his nose again. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I could be dressed in -"

"No." I did a very brave thing. I reached out and patted his cheek. In all the world, only Mulder and I would know how brave a thing that was. "I'll be back soon."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The lobby looked like a scene from an alien abduction movie; total darkness broken only by the eerie glow of emergency exit lights. A few people, mostly stranded night shift employees, wandered around, silent and agitated. The wind railed against the glass pneumatic doors like some giant, angry ghost demanding entrance.

I was pulling on my Gortex gloves as I passed through, and I caught the eye of the desk clerk I had consulted the night before. "Is there another way out?"

"You're not thinking of going out there," he protested. His tone was quite different from Mulder's; not proprietary at all, merely incredulous.

I nodded.

"No way, man. You'll be frozen in ten steps."

"I'm not going far," I promised confidently. "Is there a door that doesn't require electricity to open?"

"That one doesn't." He pointed at the rattling glass. "They're made so you can push them open when power is cut." Of course," he added as I turned away, "once it is opened, I doubt we'll be able to close it again, against that wind."

I gave him an Assistant Director eye. "Is there a door that will be less calamitous to open?"

He eyed me back. I thought perhaps he didn't comprehend my meaning, but no, he was just considering options. "The one at the end of the right wing." He pointed the direction I'd come. "But be careful. That door opens about twenty feet from the road. If any idiot is out trying to drive..."

"I'll be careful," I promised. "How can I get back in?"

"I could post someone by the door to wait ..." he stopped, shaking his head. "Hell, you're FBI. If I can't trust you ..." He shoved a fist into his pocket and produced a set of keys and selected one. "Here."

"How did you know I was with the FBI?" I demanded.

He pointed over my head.

I turned to the mirror over the front desk. The cap Mulder had loaned me said FBI in big white letters across the brim. I chuckled to myself as I accepted the key. "I'd forgotten about that. Thanks."

I groped my way back down the corridor to the alien green light of the exit sign. Bracing myself for the cold, I put my shoulder to the door and suddenly found myself outside in the icy opposite of hell.

I've been in whiteout conditions before. But this wasn't the blinding whiteness I was accustomed to. Above the whirling white, the sky was an ominous black as if the sun had gone out. There was an unsettling desolation above the raging wind and snow. Putting a hand to my mouth to protect my nose and lips, and to reduce the amount of ice-cold air going to my lungs, I leaned back against the door to get my bearings. By the night clerk's reckoning, the road was twenty paces ahead of me. The convenience store should be about fifty paces and slightly to the left. I turned my head and looked. I could see intermittent spots of red through the snow, which would be the roof of the store I had seen. I heaved forward, away from the door, and started plowing my way in that direction.

Once I got started, it really wasn't hard going. I just needed something to focus on aside the numbing cold. I had the perfect subject. He was back in the hotel room, drinking coffee and feeling 'weird'. For the first time in twelve hours, I let myself consider what we had done. Well, what I had done. For all I knew, Mulder had gone along for fear of reprisal from a superior officer.

Maybe I was being naive, maybe I was being stubborn, but I didn't think so. After being attracted to him for so long, hearing him confess his own sexual confusion had been like a homecoming brass band to me. I'm still not sure when I first realized that attraction: probably from the beginning. Nor was I sure what it was that caused the attraction. Nothing about him suggested he'd be open to my interest, and we seemed to be in constant conflict (though, no doubt the psychologist Mulder would have a few choice words about that). I can't even say that he was my 'type', assuming that I had allowed myself enough freedom to observe and catalogue men into 'types'. He just was there. And there were times when wanting him was unbearable. I knew he was in love with his quest, and Agent Scully was just the fair damsel to be rescued on the road to that quest. He was a knight exemplar. Unapproachable. Untouchable. I didn't even allow him into my fantasies.

There was a brief, crushing moment when I thought he had been attracted to that Russian double agent, Krycek. In truth, there had been a moment when I had been. Krycek was the poster boy for deniable lust. Wicked, wanton and totally heartless, a beautiful package holding an ugly promise. Of course, I never acted on that desire, but I spent one or two agonizing nights imaging what it would be like if Mulder had.

Krycek would love this weather, I thought grimly, slipping a little as I reached the opposite side of the road. I resented his intrusion into my thoughts. I wanted to stay focused on Mulder, the taste of his kisses, the sounds he made, the way his body moved against mine. I wanted more of him than the tantalizing tease I'd gotten the night before. But would I?

I sighed against the wind. We had avoided any words that acknowledged the line we'd crossed. But we had to discuss it. We had to agree it was right and good and should continue, or to never speak about it again. It was my responsibility to start that conversation, just as I had started the encounter. Mulder never would. I knew that much about him. He would perhaps, at night, accept my advances and in daylight pretend nothing had changed.

I found the store and, as expected, it was locked and dark. I cupped a hand around my eyes and peered in. No sign of life. I knocked. I pressed the bell even though I knew there was no power to make it sound wherever people might hear it. I knocked a little harder. Then I backed up to make a rear assault. I'd seen a car parked on the side, and what appeared to be a small house behind the store. It was likely that this was a family run business, and someone must be at home.

I didn't have to find out. The door opened just as I was fighting the wind to get around the corner of the building. It opened just enough for someone to shout, "Are you out of your mind? It's a blizzard, for crying out loud."

I turned around and stumbled and staggered back to him. "Yes, I know it. I'm stuck in the hotel across the street. I was wondering if I could -"

"Mister, I'm just as shut down as they are," he cut me off. I couldn't see him, really. He was dressed, head to foot in black and well bundled against cold. He was tall, I could see that, but fat or thin, young or old, Caucasian, Black or Martian, it was all hidden beneath layers of shirts and jackets and scarves.

"I can pay cash," I promised him.

"I still..." he stopped. "Oh, all right, all right. Come in." I think it was the idea of getting the door shut again, more than the promise of making any sort of money on a day like this that tempered his decision. He backed up just enough to let me squeeze inside the store.

"Thanks." I stepped in, expecting it to be warmer inside. It was not. It even felt as if the wind had followed us in.

"Sorry, I don't have backup lights in here," he said, feeling his way to the counter. "You're on your own to find things."

"Not a problem." I hunted my pockets for my maglight and began to prowl the aisles. It was clear this was a sort of last post of civilization up here, for the shelves stocked everything from Coke to cleaning supplies to an impressive selection of condoms. It was tempting. I did show restraint even though I wanted to shower him with treats to make him amenable to me. I wanted to woo him. I got him his sunflower seeds and slim jims. I picked up a couple of magazines with word games. I got candles and pretzels and a couple of rather mealy looking apples. I got cookies, meat paste, bagels, and juice. I hovered over condoms and lubricant...but the deeply closeted middle-aged man that I was in wouldn't let me face the knowing smirk that would be hiding behind the bundling of black behind the register. I did risk a jar of petroleum jelly. He could always assume I was afraid of chapped lips.

I brought my collection back to his counter and added disposable lighters, chocolate kisses and chewing gum to the pile.

He looked it over...started to bang out prices on his register...frowned, rolled his eyes, and hunted around under the counter for a pad of paper. While he was copying prices he jerked a thumb toward the darkened case at the back of the store. "You want some milk or beer? I'm going to lose it soon, anyway. Take it, no charge."

I hesitated a moment...then went back to the refrigerated locker. Pulling it open, I encountered yet another surprise. It was actually warmer in there than in the rest of the store. I pulled a quart of milk from the shelf, and then glanced at the beer. Oh, what the hell. I pulled a six-pack of Coronas from the next shelf. Not that I could imagine drinking beer in subzero weather, but one never knows...

I brought them back to the counter and announced, "I'll pay for the beer."

He looked up...and resumed the task of frowning over numbers. "Whatever, Mister." A moment later he threw the pen down in disgust. "I got an electronic register so I wouldn't have to deal with math." He shot a glance out the window. "Just take it."

"No." I sent my eyes over the haul and dug for my wallet. "Here." I put three twenties on the counter.

"Oh, no, man, that's too much -"

"For the courtesy of opening for me." I cut him off. For making a seduction possible. I resisted an urge to put a hundred down.

He looked at the money a full ten seconds before snatching it and shoving it into his pocket. "Whatever, man." He started packing things into a paper bag.

I considered the bag and then the raging storm outside. "Do you think I could borrow one of these shopping baskets if I promise to return it before I leaved?" I indicated the red, handled baskets stacked next to the register.

He surprised me. He pulled one from the stack and put the rest of my purchases in it. "Take it, with my compliments."

"Thanks. And good luck to you." I took my supplies and drew a lungful of icy air before reaching for the door.

"Hey, Mister, wait." I heard him move from around the counter. "Take these. They never sell, anyway." He pushed some bright yellow plastic packages into my hands.

I looked down at the added merchandise. Chemically activated heat sticks. "Thanks." Juggling the basket and the packages, I stuffed extras into my pockets, pushed the door open, and broke the seal on one of the sticks. The warmth that unfolded into my hands reminded me of Mulder, and I was actually eager to battle the swirling snow and icy wind with the prospect of him, in bed, on the other side of the battle.

I suppose I should have been ashamed that sex was such a priority for me. It should have been more important to establish if we had a relationship or if the events of the night before had been merely an aberration brought on by extraordinary circumstances. Sex was easier to deal with, think about. And what I could think about was having that body next to me, under me. I didn't want to talk about what happened. I just wanted to do it again. I suspect I was afraid if we did talk about it, we'd talk ourselves out of it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The door was much harder to open from the outside than from the hallway, but I was a man on a hormone driven mission at that point, and I don't think the Great Wall would have kept me out of that hotel. Once inside, I kept moving, panting and wet, down the corridor. I briefly considered going on to the lobby and returning the key, but decided to deliver my bounty to the room, and perhaps collect some prize from Mulder. I'm not sure what I considered a prize...I think even surprise and approval would be enough.

I opened my door, trying to brush away snow, and pull off gloves, and still maintain my grip on the basket. I opened my mouth to call out something silly, something on the line of 'Honey, I'm hooo-ooome', when I heard a murmur from the other room. I strained my ears as I carefully settled basket and gloves on the table, and tugged the FBI cap from my head. Moving toward the connecting door, which was only slightly ajar, I could make out that he was having a conversation with someone...a one sided conversation. He was on his mobile. And I suspected, given the slightly softened and familiar tone he used, that Agent Scully was on the other side.

What was he telling her? Did he tell her what had happened? Did he tell her about me? Was he seeking advice? Complaining? Laughing? I felt my face become unnaturally hot as I imagined the two of them laughing over the idea that their boss was a fairy, a pansy, a fag.

I got close enough that I could see him. As usual, he was pacing. Draped in one of the blankets, his phone cupped tight to his ear, he was moving idly back and forth at the foot of the bed. His voice was low and soft, and tinged with laughter. I couldn't hear any of the words, but his manner and laughter filled me with a sense of betrayal. I turned away sharply, dug out the key the clerk had loaned me, and left the room, not caring that the door jerked from my fingers and slammed behind me.

The desk clerk was sitting on the counter, legs dangling, talking to a couple of female staff. They all seemed tired but excited by the great adventure. He saw me approach and he gave me a double take. "Hey, you survived." He slid from the counter and smoothed back his hair. "We figured you weren't going to show up 'til the thaw."

The girls giggled. I gave them all the smile I could manage, but I know from experience that that forced effort is more frightening than humorous. I gave it up and held out the key. "Thank you. Any word on the power?"

The clerk shook his head. "No word on anything. The kitchen staff is going to try to put together some kind of boxed lunch in a couple of hours, though. Check back."

"I'll do that." I passed the key and turned away. I wasn't that eager to get back to my room, now.

End 02