TITLE: Same Game: Part XI – The Ref

NAME: Mik

E-MAIL: mikdok@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

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.

SUMMARY: Uh oh…Scully!

FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist...Flames? Send 'em to my brother, he's having a barbecue.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is an AU, very vague spoilers for multiple episodes, nothing current. Skinner has always been their boss. And I don't give a damn how many arms Krycek has, he doesn't get to play.

KEYWORDS: story slash angst Skinner Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully 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.

This is for Geoffrey, who gave me permission to play with his characters from "What You Want", for the owners and shareholders of the Chatterers Gallery for their love, support and lifetime supply of "Peeps", and querida Susan, for her brilliant execution of all things beta.

Same Game XI - The Ref

by Mik

"All right, who turned up the humidity?" I tugged at the front of my shirt, which was clinging to my chest like an intern on the President. Even the artificial air of the plane was better than this. Nothing quite like D.C. in June. And that is the sign of a benevolent God.

"Quit complaining, Mulder," Scully said wearily. "At least we’re home."

"At least," I agreed. I was anxious to be home. I had spent a long, lonely week in downtown taxpayer-ville, a boring case that did little to distract me, and there were lots of things going on at home to worry about. AND I had a few things to say to a stupid, bullheaded bulldog, but if I could get in a little sex first, so much the better. "Wanna’ split a taxi as far as the Hoover?"

Scully was stopped, staring slightly open-mouthed. "I don’t think that will be necessary," she murmured.

I followed her incredulous stare. "What the hell…? Scully, what day is it?"

"Thursday." She started walking again. "I think…"

"As far as you know, we didn’t lose any time in Middle America, did we? It isn’t really Saturday, and we’re the only ones who don’t know it?"

"I don’t think so."

I looked at my watch. Six seventeen. My beloved bulldog was standing ahead of us, in jeans and cotton shirt. "What the hell…?" I repeated.

Scully squared the weariness out of her shoulders and strode forward, purposefully. "Sir, this is an unexpected pleasure. Are you meeting someone?"

He looked awkward and surprised. I felt his eyes dart toward me and away. "Just dropping someone off. My…uh…neighbor’s daughter needed someone to bring her to the airport."

"Frank?" I blurted.

"Felicity," he said, giving me a disapproving look. Yes, I was home from Oz. That look was blessedly familiar. "Can I offer you a lift?" He reached for Scully’s carry-on.

Scully sent me a glance and then turned to him. "Uh…sir, we live in…"

"Yes, I know." He was walking.

Scully and I exchanged looks and started trotting to catch up.

What was waiting at the curb was not his government issue. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I’d had a tiny peek at this thing under the tarp in his parking structure. Electric blue with silver detailing, ragtop. Scully’s electric blues went over the flawless Mustang, and settled on the back seat. "There are no seat belts back there, sir."

I gave him a sympathetic smile over Scully’s head. The look he gave me was something else entirely. I scrambled into the back seat. "It’s okay, Scully. You ride shotgun. I’ll risk my neck."

He handed Scully into the car and came around to the driver’s side. His eyes came to mine in the rear-view mirror. Okay, I admit it. My heart did a little extra thump and suddenly I was craving chocolate.

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the backs of their seats. "So, didja’ miss us?" I asked. I was expected to be a smart-ass. That was the best I could do. What I really wanted to say was ‘God, I missed you’.

Scully whipped around and gave me a disapproving glare.

"Of course, Agent Mulder," Skinner answered smoothly. "Life seems almost dull when the two of you are not underfoot." He checked over his shoulder, and nearly bumped noses with me. I swear, if Scully hadn’t been in the car… "Now, please sit back while the car’s in motion."

I settled back in the seat, obediently.

I felt his eyes go over me once more, before shifting around to put the car in drive. "Did you eat on the plane?" He looked at Scully and then gave me the merest of looks. "I…uh…haven’t eaten, yet. Would you like to get some dinner? My treat?"

Scully twisted in the seat as he started maneuvering the car away from the curb and gave me an unfathomable look. "Um…sir…"

I broke in quickly. "Scully, do we object to someone treating us to a meal somewhere that doesn’t have the word ‘Mom’s’ in the name?"

Scully straightened in her seat. "That would be very nice, sir," she said politely.

He pulled into traffic. "I trust neither of you has any objection to red meat?" There was almost a smirk to his expression, to his voice, when he added, "You don’t, do you, Agent Mulder?"

I saw the surprise in Scully’s eyes and I bit down on my lip. "No, sir," I agreed solemnly. Scully shifted the surprise to me.

I gave her an innocent shrug and she sat forward again. "How is the investigation going, sir?" she asked, concerned.

"It isn’t. There doesn’t seem to be any great desire to resolve the matter." His face darkened slightly. "I believe it would be politically expedient at this point to make a…sacrifice to public opinion."

I hated the bitter twist in his voice at the end of that remark. I looked at Scully and silently pleaded with her. We HAVE to help him.

I didn’t need to. Scully was already raising her sword and rushing in. "What can we do, sir?"

He shook his head. "There isn’t a great deal that can be done." He pulled into the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. It wasn’t a great one, but it was known for dark, quiet booths and decent coffee, and it was guaranteed that the waitresses wouldn't refer to us as ‘folks’.

We were seated, and our orders taken, before any of us spoke again. Scully, seated between us, reached for one of his big paws, and patted. "Sir, just tell us what we can do."

I was surprised and jealous and surprised by my jealousy when he covered her hand with his other.

"Agent Scully." He said her name with a tenderness I didn’t know he was capable of. "There is nothing you can do. This is becoming a political hot potato. You and Agent Mulder have managed to make some enemies already--I do not want you to add to that list for my sake. Have I made myself clear on that point?"

"But, sir, surely with your alibi, this--"

His face was absolutely devoid of expression. "Agent Scully, the fact of the matter is, I don’t have an alibi."

I let out a squeak of protest and they both turned, staring; Skinner in warning, Scully in bewilderment.

Scully looked away first. "Sir, there are alibis and there are alibis. A security tape will show when you left the building. There must have been others who saw you; neighbors, the dry cleaner, the pizza delivery, someone--"

He drew a deep breath. "No. I…stayed late that night. "

"Briggs has tangled with you before, hasn’t he?" I blurted out.

Scully looked at me again, ready to shush me, but he looked at me, almost gratefully.

"This is nothing more than a set-up to get back at you for something else," I concluded. "What happened? Why is he out to get you now?"

He sighed, his hands still wrapped around Scully’s. I doubt either of them was aware of that fact. "I think you’ve got the wrong profile this time, Agent Mulder."

You liar! "So, what are you going to do? Roll over and let this man take away your career, your retirement, your reputation?"

He met my eyes again, and his were hard with meaning. "Yes, Agent Mulder, that’s exactly what I’m going to do."

Oh, shit.

I shook my head. "No."

"Yes."

"No. Damn it, I’m not going to let you."

"Agent Mulder, I don’t believe this is your decision to make."

"The hell it isn’t." I hit the tabletop with a fist. "Don’t you think this affects me, too?"

"Mulder." Scully put her other hand on my arm. "Don’t make this more difficult than it already is. We aren’t going to abandon him. We know that. Let’s not make a scene here." She looked back to Skinner, missing the glares we were exchanging. "Now, tell us everything you know about this man, sir. I’m sure Mulder and I can find a way."

Looking back, it must have seemed like I was overreacting, but at that moment, I was two breaths away from a coronary. "Fuck this. I won’t sit here and watch you do this." I pushed away from the table. "I never took you for a coward…sir."

I heard his chair scrape back as I moved toward the door, but I really didn’t expect him to follow me. He did. He caught the collar of my jacket, tugged me back against him, clapped a hand over my mouth and muscled me into the men’s room so fast and clean, I doubt anyone saw anything.

I was ready to fight him, but he had me against the wall, a forearm against my throat, hissing a command to be quiet, and then he checked the single stall, found it empty, and locked the door. "Don’t," he said, tightly. "Don’t say a word. Damn it, Mulder, don’t you see why I’m doing this?"

"Yes, I do see," I snarled, pushing him away. "You’re so afraid someone’s going to find out you’ve been sleeping with me, that you’re going to throw away everything you believe in, everything you stand for. Fuck that. I won’t let you do it. If you do, Skinner, you’ll be throwing me away, too."

He put his hand over my mouth again. "Shut up," he said, silkily. "I’m doing this because I don’t want to lose you. You’re right, I’m afraid of what would happen if the OPR started looking too closely at me. But, that’s not the only reason. There is the inescapable fact that this would put you in harm’s way--"

"The bastard’s dirty, Walter. He doesn’t deserve to get away with this."

He paused and looked at me thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard the expression ‘There’s nothing so dangerous as a man who has nothing to lose’?"

I shook my head. "I’ve heard the expression ‘Yellowbeards are never so dangerous as when they’re dead’."

He stared at me.

I held up a hand. "Sorry, pop culture reference, but I figured since we weren’t in bed, it wasn’t breaking a rule." I smiled thoughtfully. "But, I understand what you’re saying to me."

"Good." He lowered his hands and leaned into me, rubbing the front of his jeans against the front of my slacks, making me hard and hungry for red meat, Skinner style. "Now," he demanded, biting into my neck . "When can we be in bed? I’ve missed you."

"After dinner?" I offered.

"Don’t order dessert," he growled, and the sound went right to my cock.

*******************************************

"Have you found anything, Mulder?" Scully was routing around in the bag with the coffees and Danish she had brought.

"Nothing concrete," I admitted, my eyes still glued to the computer screen. "A couple of leads. We’ll find something." I groped for the coffee she set on the table in front of me. "This guy’s been in some dirty shit his whole life. The smell’s got to linger somewhere."

"So, you think you can dig up something to scare him into recanting?" she asked doubtfully.

I nodded, scanning yet another police report.

"Mulder, I want to help Skinner, too, but isn’t this just a little bit like extortion?"

I took a bite of my Danish. "A lot like it," I agreed around a mouthful of cream cheese. She didn’t know so she couldn’t understand. I had to find a solution and I had to find it quick. I wouldn’t let Skinner roll over on this guy but I couldn’t let the OPR put him under the microscope. Already it was affecting us--well, maybe only me, but there was an effect. Here it was Saturday morning, and I was on the floor in my living room with Scully, not in bed in his bedroom with Skinner. I couldn’t stand the thought of another week away from him.

"Mulder, you continue to astonish me. I know you’ve never had any difficulty in bucking bureaucratic policy, but I’ve never known you to willingly break the law."

"Sometimes you’ve got to fight fire with fire, Scully." I hit Forward and looked at the next page.

"I cannot believe you said that." She sighed heavily. "I also cannot believe I didn’t bring cream. I don’t suppose you have any."

"Milk. Fridge." I hit Forward again.

She unfolded herself from her perch on the floor next to me. At the kitchen door she paused and then returned to me, and surprised me by running her fingers through my hair. "Mulder, I can appreciate that you want to help Skinner. I know he’s put himself on the line for us many times. I want you to know that I’ll walk through any fire you do, but, please, Mulder, I want you to think long and hard before you follow through on this. If nothing else, ask yourself if Skinner would want you dirty for his sake."

"Now, that’s just cruel," I muttered, and went on to the next screen.

I noticed something. A name. I’d seen it before. I scrolled back. And back again. "Scully?" I called. "We may have something here."

No answer. I kept scrolling back. Three, four, five times. Same agent filing the report. No arrest made. "Scully?"

I felt her eyes on me, and I tore my gaze from the computer screen to the kitchen door. Felt the earth shift, and fall from under me. My new mantra: ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit.

Scully, at the door, a blackened rosebud in her hand.

XXX

I heard the buzzer at the gate and dragged myself to the keypad. I knew it was Mulder. I had been willing him to come yet hoping he would stay away. I wanted to see him. Thursday night was spent mostly in the restaurant, with me trying to convince them to tilt at some other windmill. We’d had a brief, almost frantic encounter in his front hall after I dropped him off; I never made it fully into his apartment, despite his coaxing and teasing for me to stay the night. He’d offered to set up another ‘Hide In Plain Sight’ rendezvous for the weekend, and I’d come so close to agreeing, drunk as I was on the taste of him still in my mouth. But, I knew I was under scrutiny. I wouldn’t have his white hat smudged over this. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to say goodbye, and I didn’t have the balls to do it.

I pressed the release, and muttered, "Come."

I’m not sure what I was expecting. Him bounding in, full of sexual energy. Him slinking in, still wearing the wounded expression he wore when I walked out on him Thursday night. Him raging in, having somehow discovered my dirty little secret. I wasn’t expecting the reddened, worried eyes, the compulsive swallowing, the way his hands shook as he fell into my arms, mumbling something.

My first thought was he had been hurt. I held him against me with one hand, as I shoved the door shut with the other. I found myself stroking him, searching for extraneous holes, blood, or protruding bones. Finding none, I petted his hair for a moment, and eased him away. There was only one thing that could impact him so severely. "Scully?"

He swallowed again. "She knows."

My reaction speaks to my state of mind at that moment. I was sure he meant she knew about my previous encounter with Briggs. "How did she…" I stopped. Oh. "…find out?"

He shook himself free of me. "Me. I fucked up."

I let him go and he wandered through the kitchen. I followed, watching him look around. I had the oddest feeling he was looking for something--someone. "Do you want a beer?" I offered.

"Only if you’ve got an arsenic chaser," he said with a smile so grim it was uncomfortable to look at. Reminded me of a skull, sitting on a shelf. I looked away.

I busied myself pulling two beers from the refrigerator. "How did she find out?" I repeated.

He was looking at the bulletin board as if he thought there was a recipe for salvation tacked up there waiting for me to give it a try. "I…she found out." He was hugging himself. "I fucked up."

I wrapped an arm around his hunched shoulders, and held the beer in front of him. "What did you do, Mulder?" I said, trying to keep my voice easy. "Leave your diary open to the page that said ‘today I fucked Walter Skinner’?"

He made a jerky little nod. "Something like that," he whispered.

I tightened my hold on his shoulders, and took a sip of beer. "Let’s go sit down and you can tell me."

He remained rigid before the bulletin board. Suddenly, he raised a hand to the photo and ran a fingertip over the face. "Who is that?" he asked, almost transfixed.

I felt my gut tighten and that burn at the back of my eyes. "Ron Hardy. He was in my unit in ‘Nam."

"Ron Hardy…Sean Hardy. No wonder I thought I’d seen him before."

"Yeah, Sean was Ron’s younger brother."

Mulder tilted his head slightly, so that he could rest it against my shoulder. "I’m such a prick sometimes. I’m sorry, Walter."

I squeezed him. "It’s okay. Flattering as hell to have someone jealous over me."

"I kept the rose I took from you," he murmured. "It was in the fridge. Scully found it."

I held him. He was shaking again. "What did she say?"

"Not much."

"Come on." I turned him and forced him out to the living room where he could sit beside me. "Tell me what happened."

At first, he wouldn’t sit next to me. At first he wouldn’t sit. He paced, looked out the window, opened a closet, stared up the stairs. Then he settled on the edge of the chair, across from me, rolling the bottle between his hands. Finally, with a sigh, he put the bottle on the table in front of him, and came to sit at the edge of the sofa, turning to look at me. "That rose? I don’t know, I got…" he shrugged, helplessly. "Okay, I was being sentimental," he exploded. "She found it. I knew from the look on her face that she recognized it." His voice softened, his eyes dipped away from mine. "At first, I think she thought I somehow stole it from you, and kept it as if…as if…as if I had a crush on you or something. I should have let her think that."

"Did you tell her otherwise?" I asked, wondering, agonizing over how that conversation must have gone.

"Yeah. I got pretty damned indignant about it. ‘I’m not some schoolboy, you know, Scully. Skinner loves me, too.’" He dropped his head into his hands. "Shit."

I reached over and caressed his shoulder, tentatively. "What did she say?"

He shook his head against his hands. "She just handed the rose back to me and said this came as a rather unpleasant surprise and she’d be going now." He lifted his head. "I cut her off before she got to the door and asked her what she was going to do about it."

I felt my middle turn to ice. "What is she going to do about it?"

I had never seen the definition of bleak brought to life so clearly, so chillingly as the expression on his face. "She doesn’t know."

I looked at my watch. It was only noon. Yet, there seemed no further point to this day. "Come on, Mulder," I said, catching him under one arm. "Let’s go to bed."

He stared up at me. "She could be--"

"She probably is," I agreed, grimly. "So, we may as well enjoy ourselves one last time."

He didn’t smile. I had hoped that he would. But he merely stood with me, obedient. It took me a moment to realize why. He wasn’t just about to lose his reputation or his career. He had just lost his Scully. He was in shock. Then there would be denial. Then anger. "Would you rather go home?" I asked.

"No, I…I don’t know what I want, Walter."

"Fox, did you mean what you said last week? Really mean it, or was it just something comfortable to say at the moment?"

It took him a moment to decide. "I meant it."

"Even in the face of Scully knowing? Even in the face of her reporting us?"

He answered a little slower this time. "I…meant it."

I held out my hand. "Come to bed."

A phone rang as his fingers met mine. We froze, looking at one another in confusion and guilt. Caught? By whom? Whose phone? He reached into his hip pocket, I went to the table near the stairs. My phone.

"Skinner," I said, knowing how gruff and impatient I sounded. I was scared. Scared to be so exposed, scared to face such loss.

"Mulder was your alibi, wasn’t he?"

I looked across the room at Mulder. He looked as scared as I felt. I felt this wave of failure rush over me, cold, biting. I had failed to keep him safe. "Yes," I said, simply.

There was a long silence on the other end. "Is he there?"

"Yes," I repeated.

"I want him to know…I want you to tell him…" she paused. It was evident that she was reigning in tremendous feeling. "Please, sir, if you would give him a message from me. Tell him I would never do anything to hurt him."

The tide rushed back out, and left me sandy, but exposed to sunshine. "I can certainly pass that message along."

"And, sir, I expect that you won’t, either." There was a razor’s edge beneath that respectful tone.

"You can count on that."

She was quiet again. "Thank you, sir." The connection went.

I folded my phone and returned it to the table. "She’s not going to report us."

He didn’t look as if he believed me. "What did she say?"

"That she wouldn’t hurt you." I smiled, weakly. "She also threatened me if I did."

The tension eased in his face. "She’s scary, isn’t she?"

"Shit, yes."

He laughed.

I came across the room and pulled him against me. "I meant it, too, Fox."

His arms came up and around my shoulders, his fingers digging into my shirt. "I know," he breathed. "I know." He rubbed his face against my shirt and I realized he was brushing tears away. "I’m sorry, Walter. I’m so--"

"For what? For being romantic? Sentimental? Stupid, little prick, I’m flattered. No, I’m touched." I could afford to be generous. I just had my lover handed back to me on a platter. "I think it’s the most amazing, fucking thing anyone’s ever done for me, or felt about me." I eased back and forced his eyes up to mine. "What’s that old expression, ‘no blood, no foul’?"

He snickered, ducking his head. "You’re a sick bastard, Walter."

"Well, we knew that. Look who I’m in love with."

He nodded, pulling away from me. "No doubt. It’s diagnostic. You’re a whole chapter in the DSM IV. Axis II personality disorder, no question."

"Shut up." I gave him a little shove toward the stairs. "Get your butt upstairs, and we’ll discuss personality disorders."

*******************************************

I’m not sure what woke me, but I resented it. I had fallen into an exhausted stupor after Mulder collapsed in my arms and neither of us had moved for hours. It had been decades since I had slept in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. And now something, some one had the audacity to disturb it.

That sound again. The gate buzzer. I decided to ignore it.

Mulder, curled against my side, cheek on my shoulder, stirred, restlessly. I patted his shoulder gently. He made one of those sounds; words with seven syllables, no vowels.

"It’s okay," I promised him. "Go back to sleep."

He opened his eyes. "That’s your gate buzzer. Who are you expecting?"

"No one. It’s a mistake. There, it stopped."

I tried to hold him in place but he was rolling away and to the side. "Can I take a shower?" he mumbled from the edge of the bed?

"Sure. Want some pizza?"

Another of those words he makes up, but I think this one rhymed with ‘Sounds good’ so I took it for the affirmative. He scrubbed at his face with both hands, stumbled toward the bathroom door and looked back at me. "What time is it?"

I found my watch where it had ended up on the floor in our scramble to see who could remove the most of the other person’s clothes the fastest. I squinted at it. "Ten after five."

"Huh."

I heard something else as he stepped under the water. My doorbell. Whoever had been trying to get me had evidently just begun ringing buzzers until someone let them in. I pulled my bathrobe on, collected my service weapon and tucked it into the pocket and went downstairs.

I almost didn’t see her, peering out the peephole. I caught a glimpse of red hair and pulled the door open. Her eyes were downcast, her lip worried between her teeth. As I opened the door, however, her eyes came up and over me.

I know what she saw. I know what it looked like. I was rumpled, without my glasses, in nothing but hastily gathered bathrobe, still sticky from semen spilled on my chest hours ago. "Agent…Scully…" I began, having no idea where to go from there.

She came across the threshold, avoiding my eyes. "He’s still here, isn’t he?"

"He’s taking a shower," I confessed. "Agent Scully, I know this must be very--"

She put a hand up. "If it’s all the same to you, sir…I’d rather not discuss this right now. I just came here to--to reassure you--both of you--"

She was struggling and it was painful to watch. "Agent Scully, perhaps you’d be kind enough to start a pot of coffee while I put some clothes on?"

She looked relieved and nodded. "Yes, sir." She turned toward the kitchen.

"Walter, did you ever--" Mulder staggered to a stop. In jeans, barechested, barefooted, toweling his hair, he had ambled down the stairs, unaware that I was not alone. He lifted his head and stared at her and his expression was heartbreaking. So was hers. I didn’t know who I felt sorrier for. "Scully."

She lifted her chin, met his eyes, purposefully. Dana Scully would have made a damn fine soldier. "Mulder, I just wanted to assure you that I’m not going to make an issue of this…" She lowered her eyes for a fraction of a moment. "…breach of protocol," she finished. Suddenly, she looked up, her eyes flashing that blue fire that Mulder called ‘scary’. "But, Mulder, if you love this man the way you claim to, you might keep in mind you’re the only thing standing between him and a formal investigation." She turned away. "Good afternoon."

-THE END-