Little Things (part 15 of 15)

by Mik

They stood in front of the door. Mulder was wearing that awful orange shirt Skinner gave him for his birthday. He was making a face at the plaque on the door. "The Honeymoon Suite?"

Skinner was smiling at him. He couldn’t help it. Mulder looked as indignant as a wet cat. "Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?"

"Do you want me to carry you to the ambulance?" Mulder countered.

Skinner twisted the key in the door, pushed it open and then, looking up and down the hall, bent down and scooped Mulder up. He kicked the door shut with his foot.

"Well, that was an impressive gesture," Mulder drawled, wriggling out of his arms. "But you left all our luggage in the hall." He went to the door and pulled it open. "It’s clear we need to establish some rules here." He dragged the bags inside and shut the door. "No wonder you tipped the bellboy in the elevator. You planned that."

"Trained investigator at work," Skinner chuckled and picked up his garment bag. "What rules?"

"Just because you’re my boss doesn’t make me the little woman."

"Are you kidding?" Skinner rubbed his back. "I think you just herniated one of my discs."

"Did I ask you to do that?" Mulder carried his bag to the bedroom door and stalled. "Wow."

Skinner came up behind him, still rubbing his back. "I wanted the best." It was an immense room, dominated by a canopy bed, opening out onto a wide terrace with a spectacular view of the beach below.

"I can see you’re making sure I don’t have to worry about inheriting your trust fund," Mulder drawled, putting their garment bags in the walk-in closet.

"Shut up. I’m trying to be romantic." Skinner went into the bathroom and came out, smiling. "Jacuzzi."

"Oh, good, I’ll try not to get sick this time." Mulder settled in one of the frilly little chairs near the terrace, and gnawed on a fingernail. "What time does Sharon get in?"

"Oh, she came in a couple of days ago. She has friends on the big island." Skinner looked out the window. "When does Dana get here?"

Mulder grinned sheepishly. "She’s been here since Sunday. I owed her so much time off."

Skinner screwed up his mouth. He needed to warn Mulder about something, and he didn’t know how to do it. "I … uh …"

Mulder didn’t realize he was trying to speak. "When does your family get here?"

"Tonight." Skinner was actually relieved to be interrupted.

"Is your stepbrother coming?"

"Kyle? Yeah, I suppose so."

Mulder rubbed his eyes. "You’re going to need to keep an eye on him. I think he is intrigued by our lifestyle choices."

Skinner frowned, disapprovingly. "No, I think he’s intrigued by you. My stepbrother has an old-fashioned crush, Kit. Watch out."

Mulder pulled a grim face. "I’ll try to let him down easy," he promised. "I’m just surprised your folks decided to come out. At Thanksgiving they weren't going to."

Skinner shrugged. "They liked you. They wanted to be a part of this. By the way, Ashcroft is coming."

"Mmm." Mulder got up and went to test the bed. "What?"

"I went to see Ashcroft on Monday," Skinner told Mulder’s reflection in the glass doors.

Mulder sat down heavily. "You what?"

"I told him about us."

"You what?"

"I told him what we were doing."

"You what?"

Skinner turned around. "Say that again and I’m going to throw you off this balcony. I invited Ashcroft to the wedding. He’s coming."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I found out that his son is living with a man in Canada. It was insurance." Skinner came around the bed. "If Ashcroft does anything that hurts us, it will also hurt his son by inference."

"Don’t you think I should have been consulted about this?" Mulder rasped. "You seem to think it’s perfectly all right to make all the choices, all the decisions and I’ll just trot along like an obedient puppy. One of these days this puppy’s going to bite you in the ass."

"I make choices and plans because if I left things to you, you’d leave everything status quo," Skinner snapped, stung by Mulder’s reaction. He thought this news might ease some of Mulder’s fears. He didn’t expect to have to deal with a tantrum.

"Fine, but you might discuss them with me before you put them into action." Mulder was leaning across the bed, glaring at him.

Skinner grinned. He couldn’t help it. "God, you’re cute when you’re pissed."

Mulder pulled back. "You ever say that to me again, and I’ll jump off the balcony myself."

Skinner sobered, reaching for him, scowling as Mulder deftly evaded him. "Kit, I’m sorry. I got this information, and I ran with it. I admit, I didn’t think it all the way through. But it’s going to be all right."

Mulder sighed heavily. "The problem is that we’re too independent to be partners. We both just act without thinking."

"I don’t think I like that tone. It sounds like someone backing out of something," Skinner murmured. He had been living on edge all week. The closer they got to leaving for Hawaii, the more obstacles and ‘what if’ scenarios Mulder threw at him.

Mulder raised his eyes from the delicate floral pattern of the plush carpet. "No. I’m all for the commitment, I really am, I’m just uncomfortable with all …" He made one short, economical gesture that took in the suite, the island, the plans. "… this."

"I wanted to do it right," Skinner insisted. Why couldn’t Mulder see how much this mattered to him?

"It would have been just as ‘right’ back in D.C., in private, between us," Mulder retorted, dropping back on the bed. "I feel like we’re making a mockery out of the whole thing, trying to prove something to the world. We’re two men and we’re getting married. Ha ha, all you uptight conservative fundamentalists, look what we’re getting away with."

Skinner felt as if he’d been slapped. He turned back toward the terrace and stared out at the deep blue of the water, so close he could almost reach out and touch it. The Pacific was closer to him at that moment than Mulder was. "I’m sorry that’s how you see it."

Mulder was quiet behind him. He heard the creak of the bed as Mulder rose from the bed, but he never heard footsteps, breathing, irritated sighs. In a moment, he heard a zipper, and then another creak of the bed. He turned. Mulder was working his running shoes off. "What are you doing?"

"Just getting extra socks for my cold feet." Mulder’s fingers stilled and his mouth turned up slightly. "I’m being a prick, I know." He shrugged slightly, still not looking up. "I can never fully appreciate how much tradition matters to you, and I tend to belittle your need for it. You put so much effort into a damned birthday dinner, of course you’re going to go over the top for a wedding." He did, in fact, put on another pair of socks and then pulled his shoes back on. "I’m scared to death about Christmas."

"Don’t worry, I won’t make you get your picture taken on Santa’s lap," Skinner assured him, coming back to the bed. He reached for Mulder and pulled him into an embrace. "I love you, you prick."

"I always said you were romantic. No one believed me." Mulder let himself ease back into Skinner’s lap and looked up into Skinner’s eyes. "So, what’s on the agenda tonight?"

Skinner smiled wickedly.

Mulder tried to sit up. "Hey, this is the night before the wedding. We can’t …"

"We will." Skinner shifted, putting his back against the headboard. "We haven’t been together in four days. I want to do something tonight, so that tomorrow night we won’t rush things, hurt you."

Mulder rolled up and away from him. "I wish you’d stop talking about hurting me. You make me feel as if I’m made of glass. I’m not, you know. May I point out to you how many times I’ve been shot, had things fall on me, fallen from things, been beaten up, poisoned, exposed to viruses, bronchitis, homicidal maniacs, you? I’m still standing. I think I’m pretty tough."

Skinner grimaced and rolled off the bed, marching to the closet, pulling his briefcase out.

"And that’s another thing. Why did you bring work with you on our fucking honeymoon?" Mulder was in full snit mode.

Skinner snapped open the briefcase and pulled out a manila folder. "Come here."

"I don’t want --"

"Come here." He barked it. Mulder came, slowly, mutinously, but as soon as he was in reach, Skinner grabbed his wrist and pulled him down on his lap, hard. "Sit still. Look at this. Look at it."

Mulder opened the folder, and blanched at a photograph. He turned a page, scanned text. He looked a little green. His mouth worked, as if he was trying to fight back bile.

"I’m not just concerned about tomorrow night," Skinner ground out. "You seem to think it’s all a matter of whether you can sit down the next day. I’m looking at the long-range effects of tomorrow night. I don’t want to do that to you." He gestured toward some of the more frightening text. "So you’ll excuse me if I’m very concerned about not being overenthusiastic."

Mulder drew a deep breath and stood shakily. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Oh, come on, I wasn’t trying to make you take blame," Skinner groaned, reaching for him. Again Mulder avoided his grasp. Skinner watched him. He had scared him, and he never expected that. Would Mulder change his mind now? He closed the briefcase and carried it back to the closet. Mulder was still pacing, still trying to swallow. "What’s the matter, Agent Mulder? Did you find something scarier than flukemen?"

Mulder lifted his eyes and for a moment, he seemed surprised to find the A.D. looking at him. He blinked. "I guess I never realized how much we take for granted." He dropped down onto the edge of the bed. "I mean, this physiology of ours, how it evolved the way it did, almost as if to prevent …" He used that economical gesture again, to indicate the two of them.

"Who says it evolved, Kit?"

Mulder looked up at him. "Oh, don’t start that world created in seven days crap. Come on, Kat, you’re not stupid."

Skinner looked past him to the terrace. "Come here," he said gently.

Mulder followed him. He put his arms around Mulder and encouraged him to look out at the amazing scenery, the intense greens and blues. "How can you say that just happened?"

"It just happened," Mulder said, but he did seem to think it was pretty. "So, you believe this was all made by God, huh?"

Skinner nodded, rubbing his chin against Mulder’s cheek. "I do."

"The same God that says what we’re doing is a mortal sin?"

Skinner nodded again. "The same God who will forgive us for it."

"You really believe that?"

"I do, and I wish you did."

"Don’t start proselytizing, Kat, or I’ll drag you to a Roswell convention." But Mulder’s tone was lighter. He reached up and touched Skinner’s cheek. "Thank you for being so concerned."

Skinner smacked his jean clad butt. "Let’s go try out the jacuzzi."

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

They decided against walking down the aisle. Actually, Mulder refused to. So they waited in the two side chambers of the tiny chapel, and when the music started, they came out; Mulder with Scully and Skinner with Sharon.

Mulder looked magnificent in his tux. Like every suit he owned, it fit him perfectly, hiding the flaws of a tall slender frame and emphasizing the perfections. But the best part was his face. His eyes were glowing, he looked happy … at peace? When they reached the altar, Mulder turned and kissed Scully very tenderly. Skinner kissed Sharon. Then the priest had them kneel.

The service was simple, the mass was in English, and the priest very gently exhorted them about their responsibilities to one another in taking this difficult step. Skinner squeezed Mulder’s hand, as if in silent promise. Mulder had his head slightly bowed, his eyes closed the entire time. When they took the rings the women held, Skinner slid the narrow gold band onto Mulder’s finger and vowed, heartfelt, to love honor and cherish him. Mulder did the same, with the same fervor, the same sense of urgency, when he gave him the wide matte band with the tiny X’s. Skinner saw the pattern and smiled. They were pronounced partners, and invited to kiss. It was the first time they had ever kissed in front of anyone, and they were both a little shy about it. There was some general applause and it was over, it was done.

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

Ashcroft insisted on taking the entire party out to dinner at a local Japanese restaurant, saying it was appropriate that Kitsune and Oyakata’s first meal together as a legal couple should be Japanese (although how he knew about those nicknames should have become an X-File). Mulder had his first experience with sake, and then later with karioke. To everyone’s surprise, he performed a very steady and poignant rendition of First Time. The words brought tears to Skinner’s eyes. Are those your eyes? Is that your smile? I’ve been looking at you forever, yet I never saw you before. Are these your hands holding mine? Now I wonder how I could have been so blind. And for the first time I am looking in your eyes. For the first time I’m seeing who you are. I can’t believe how much I see when you’re looking back at me. Now I understand what love is, love is, for the first time. Can this be real, can this be true? Am I the person I was this morning, and are you the same you? It’s all so strange, how can it be? All along this love was right in front of me. And for the first time … Such a long time ago I had given up on ever finding this emotion. But, you’re here with me now, yes I’ve found you somehow and I’ve never been so sure. For the first time …

Of course, everyone else in the restaurant thought he was singing to the petite redhead in the pale pink suit sitting next to Skinner, but anyone who looked in Skinner’s eyes would have known every word was meant for him. By the end of the song, when Mulder staggered back to the table, even old Ashcroft had watery eyes.

Then there was dancing. Mostly Skinner danced with Sharon and Mulder danced with Scully and Mrs. O’Hara, but at one point, Skinner leaned over and promised Mulder in his best ‘bedroom’ growl that they would dance before the night was over.

Skinner’s parents seemed determined to drag the evening out, even when everyone else was more than willing to give up and let the ‘newlyweds’ alone. Skinner took it as long as he could, but when he saw Kyle pouring another sake for Mulder and lean in to whisper something that made Mulder bite down on his lip to keep from laughing, he stood up abruptly. "Thank you for coming, everyone," he announced. "Good night." He reached out a hand and practically jerked Mulder out of his chair.

The night air seemed to help clear Mulder’s head, because he stopped frowning at their abrupt departure, and shook his head. "What the hell was that?" he muttered.

"Sake," Skinner said tightly. "Rice wine."

"That’s not what I was talking about." Mulder’s tongue sounded a little thick.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your mom," Mulder persisted. He had his head up, his eyes directed straight ahead, his steps perfectly gauged and graceful. He was drunk and he knew it. "Every time Ashcroft started some kind of ‘well, this has been fun’ speech, your mom started a new conversation."

"It was typical mother behavior, Kit," Skinner said, directing him back toward the hotel. They were walking side by side, hands thrust into pockets, looking for all the world like two guys who had been dragged into some other poor bastard’s date with doom, instead of two men who had just pledged their lives and love to one another. No one gave them a second look. "She was just trying to keep us from going back to the hotel. She knows what we’re going to do, and like every mother, she doesn’t like thinking about her son having sex." Skinner smiled wryly. "Even if he’s forty-eight and has been doing it for thirty years."

Mulder tossed him a sly, amused look. "’Doing it’, Kat?" Then he stopped. "You started ‘doing it’ when I was eight years old."

"Yeah, I was realizing that as the words came out of my mouth." He sagged. "Boy, do I feel old all of a sudden."

Mulder bumped into him deliberately. "Prime of life, in my opinion."

"Thanks, but …"

"No, really, look where you’re at," Mulder insisted. "You’re sitting so close to the top you could be wearing Hoover’s dresses, if you wanted to. You’ve got plenty of money in the bank, you’ve got a great place, you --"

"That reminds me," Skinner said, as they went up the steps of the hotel. "You didn’t give notice on the first."

Mulder had seen it coming and had no place to hide. "I forgot," he said, ducking his head.

"You don’t forget things, you bury them, remember?"

"Evidently." He shrugged, hands still deep in the pockets of his pants. "I’ll do it next week, I promise."

"Why didn’t you do it this month?" Skinner persisted as they waited to get an elevator where they could be alone. It was a little game of theirs that they never discussed. They would wait fifteen minutes to get into an elevator they could call their own.

Mulder drew a deep breath. "I paid the rent right after we spent the weekend at Katonah. I was feeling a little unsettled. Cut me some slack, will you?" he complained as they stepped into an empty car. "That shit-hole, as you call it, has been home for over twelve years. It’s kind of hard to give up on that kind of commitment."

"You plan to keep it?" Skinner asked. He could see Mulder’s point, and it was a new experience. Home was a fragile concept to Mulder. That shit-hole was a place to belong.

"No." Mulder’s tone and body language said something else.

Skinner scratched the back of his head, wondering what he could offer to make up for the sacrifice Mulder was making. "What if we looked for a place together. You know, something that isn’t yours or mine, but ours?"

"You like your place," Mulder said.

"I like you more."

The corner of Mulder’s mouth twitched. "You’d better, I’d be a bitch in a divorce."

"Then let’s go looking for a place," Skinner warmed to the idea. "Maybe a real house, room for a dog?"

Mulder slid his eyes left for a moment and then straight ahead. "Kat, I hate to break it to you, but nice neighborhoods and good schools are never going to be an issue for us."

Skinner looked down at the ring on his hand. "Adoption laws are getting more liberal …"

The elevator doors slid open on a hiss. Mulder stepped out into the hall and looked around. "No."

Skinner was surprised how flat and determined Mulder’s voice was. "That was pretty final. Don’t you think you could at least --"

Mulder turned to him, speaking softly, even if his eyes were hard. "Look, it would be bad enough for the kid to have me as a father." He touched his chest. "I’m a psychologist. I know how screwed up I am. I couldn’t do that and this to the poor little bastard."

Skinner dug the card key out. "I think you’d make a terrific father, Kit," he said softly. "You forget, I’ve seen you with kids. You’re putty."

"Sure, in fifteen minute increments," Mulder answered, stepping inside, and shrugging his jacket off. "After that, one of us gets homicidal, and it isn’t always me. Look, this time the puppy’s going to bite your ass first. Don’t start painting picket fences with me in mind. I like things just as they are."

Skinner’s mouth twisted up thoughtfully. It wasn’t kids that Mulder was against, it was kids that weren’t mothered by a certain redhead. Some unfinished business there, definitely. "Okay, no kids," he capitulated. "Could I at least have a dog?"

Mulder shrugged. "Sure. What do you want? A poodle? Or maybe one of those faggy little bichon frise?"

"I was thinking a Doberman. He’d look like you," Skinner laughed.

Mulder nodded, smiling in approval. "Or a bulldog?" he suggested, looking back at Skinner. He laughed out loud. "No, wait, a Mexican hairless."

"I’d like to remind you that I outweigh you, outrank you, and I know where you are mortally ticklish."

Instead of tucking his arms at his side as he usually did when threatened with tickling, Mulder threw his arms open wide, his tux jacket still dangling from one hand. "Come on, do your worst."

Skinner stepped up and wrapped his arms around him tightly, kissing him deeply. "What did Kyle say that was so funny?" he asked into Mulder’s hair.

Mulder pulled back, frowning. "What?"

"Tonight, before we left the bar. Kyle was saying something and you looked like you were trying not to laugh out loud." Skinner reached up to release Mulder’s vest.

"Did I?" Mulder sounded puzzled. He reached up and began working Skinner’s butterfly tie. "I don’t really know. I was getting a little fuzzy sitting there. I had Ashcroft blubbering to me about the prick his son was living with on one side, and Kyle feeling me up on the other --"

"What?" Skinner jerked back, causing Mulder to pull the tie free.

"Well, he kept putting his fingers on my thigh." Mulder jerked his shoulder. "I think I was thinking about punching them both out and suddenly you leaped up and announced that we were leaving. I could have kissed you there." He leaned up and kissed Skinner’s frown. "Will you relax? Do you really think I’d let that radish get anywhere? Don’t you know by now I’m a one man man?" He chuckled to himself.

"I’m going to punch his lights out," Skinner said.

"Now?" Mulder tugged at his own tie. "After you got me all hot talking about Dobermans?"

Skinner caught the silk of Mulder’s tie, and wrapped it around Mulder’s wrists. "One of these days, I’m thinking handcuffs and leather."

Mulder’s eyes widened and for a moment, Skinner saw that same fright he had seen on the basketball court. "Okay, maybe not." He slid the silk away. "Nervous about tonight?"

"Hell, yes," Mulder said evenly. "How can I help it, after your little bedtime stories yesterday."

"Okay." Skinner shrugged out of his jacket, pausing a moment to sniff the white rose at his lapel. "Let’s skip it."

Mulder’s eyes widened again, but it was not fright that made them burn bright this time. Gratitude? Relief? Disappointment? "Are you kidding?"

Skinner shook his head. "We’ve got the rest of our lives. And if we never get to it, we never do. The point is, we’ve got each other."

Mulder was quiet for a moment. "But I don’t want to wait." He met Skinner’s eyes. "You’re the one who is carrying this wedding night metaphor along. Aren’t most virgins a little nervous at this point?"

"Yeah, but they’re also usually pretty hot, too." Skinner reached up to the nape of Mulder’s neck and pulled him closer. "How many times, in how many ways do I have to tell you, we take this at your speed? My feelings for you can only grow."

Mulder was actually contemplating it. Skinner didn’t know it, but the words to a Billy Joel song were replaying in his mind. Mulder extricated himself gently, and went to the bar. Skinner could hear him getting out a glass, opening a bottle. "I think you’ve had enough to drink," he called.

"It’s not for me." Mulder came back to him, took a sip and leaned in for a kiss. "Let’s go try out the jacuzzi."

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

They had been in bed, kissing and caressing for what seemed like hours. Mulder smelled and tasted so good to him, that Skinner was beginning to have fantasies about devouring him whole. He had tried on four different occasions to bring one or both of them some kind of relief from the aching need their proximity had caused, but Mulder had stopped him, firmly. Finally, lifting his head for air, Skinner rolled onto his back. "Kit, I can’t take much more of this," he confessed raggedly.

"Okay." Mulder rolled off the bed. He went, naked, to the closet and started rummaging around in his bag.

Skinner lifted his head. It was four in the morning, he was more than a little drunk, and his head was spinning slightly. "What are you doing?"

Mulder held up a box. "I’ll be back in a minute." He paused at the bathroom door, gave him one of those smug looks Skinner used to fantasize smacking off his face -- one of those smiles that started them both down this path to begin with. "You’re not the only one who can do research, you know."

Skinner eased back on the bed. Did that box say Fleet? He couldn’t be sure. Trust Mulder to think beyond the actual act, to the aftereffects. It was so in keeping with his innate sense of fastidiousness. He heard the flush of the toilet and in a moment, Mulder returned. "Okay," he said, flipping out the light on the bedside table.

"Oh, no." Skinner rolled over him. "I want the light on. I want to watch your face." He went to his own bag and came back with lubricant. Putting two pillows under Mulder’s hips, he started with the usual ministrations. Mulder’s body quivered in response. Then he slid more lubricant over his erection, for the first time in his life being concerned about its size. He directed it to the opening, and leaned up to kiss Mulder, fumbling for Mulder’s hand. "Same rules," he whispered. "Anything hurts or is too weird, squeeze my hand." Mulder, eyes closed, nodded. "Okay, deep breath, and let it out, slowly."

As Mulder followed instructions, he eased himself in, the head of his cock passing the sphincter with that oft-referenced pop. Mulder’s body jerked, and his next breath was shallow, raspy.

"Okay?" Skinner demanded. "Are you okay?"

Mulder nodded, but his face was very white.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little." Mulder drew a shaky breath. "It’s okay." He opened his eyes. "I’m okay. Just take it slow."

Skinner wished he hadn’t had so much to drink. He didn’t really feel as if he was in control, and it scared him that he could hurt Mulder through carelessness. He started to withdraw. "We’ll do this --"

Mulder’s fingers clenched around his. "You back out now, and you’ll never get another chance," he hissed. "Damn it, don’t you get it?" He opened his eyes and they were two pools of green fire. "This is what I want, and I want it now."

Skinner released his hand, and leaned forward, taking Mulder’s hips in his hands. He moved slow, moving forward, drawing Mulder back. Mulder moaned slightly, but other than that, he made no sound. Gradually, his body began to relax, accept. Encouraged, Skinner began to find a rhythm. He slid one hand up Mulder’s thigh and focused on Mulder’s own erection. Mulder moaned again.

Just that sound, the sound of Mulder aroused, in need of climax, was all Skinner needed. Within a moment, Mulder was coming into his hand, his back arching upward and his body tightening over Skinner’s cock, making him explode. He cried out, and clenched Mulder’s thighs, and finally, sagged against him, smothering him with kisses.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, letting their heart rates return to normal. To his surprise, he heard Mulder’s chuckle in his ear. "Leather, huh?"

He eased himself away, gingerly, and cursed. There was blood on the sheets.

With effort, Mulder pulled himself up and looked down at the mess. "Well, we know the bride was a virgin," he said, smiling, wryly, shyly.

"Are you okay?" Skinner said anxiously.

"Oh, yeah," Mulder answered, but his voice was a little shaky. "The test will be tomorrow. Scully says it will be a sign of how tough I am, if I can sit down tomorrow."

Skinner reached out and caressed his cheek. "We should have --"

"Shh." Mulder put a hand over Skinner’s mouth. "We decided a long time ago that there wouldn’t be any apologies or second-guessing, remember?"

"I love you," Skinner said against his fingers.

"I know," Mulder said. "I love you, too."

"I know," Skinner said, with feeling.

"Oh, no, don’t take that as a sign of love," Mulder said, gesturing to the space between them. "That was probably the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t wait until we get a little practice." He made himself stand, and his legs were a little wobbly.

"You’re going to have some nasty bruises tomorrow," Skinner said, noting places where there was already a faint blueness.

Mulder looked down. "I guess I don’t get to wear the Speedo here." He staggered to the bathroom. "I’m going to get in that jacuzzi again. Care to join me?"

"Kit, it’s almost five in the morning," Skinner protested.

"Then there’s no point in going to bed, is there?" Mulder disappeared, and the sound of the water splashing into the tub came.

Skinner leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes, hearing Mulder, seeing Mulder, feeling Mulder. In a few minutes, he could hear a soft groan. He got up.

Mulder was in the tub, his head tilted back against the tiles. His face was very pale, and there was a tear on one cheek. It broke Skinner’s heart, because he realized that he had finally achieved what he set out to do all those months ago. He had broken Mulder. He wanted to weep, too. He knelt down beside the tub, and brushed the tear away with a fingertip.

Mulder opened his eyes, brushed at them with long, impatient fingers. "You know, I always thought that something stupendous had to happen to cause someone to fall in love, you know like lightning, or something. But, it isn’t the big things, it’s the little things, isn’t it?" He smiled. "It’s sunflower seeds, and stolen kisses and nicknames, and John Wayne movies, and dancing naked in the living room." He raised his eyes to Skinner’s. "That’s all it is."

"That song you sang tonight," Skinner said, stepping down into the water, to settle against Mulder, draw him into his arms. "It was beautiful. Where did you learn it?"

Mulder shrugged, settling his cheek in the hollow between Skinner’s shoulder and throat. "I heard it once."

"Once?"

Mulder shrugged again. "That’s all it takes."

"Do you really remember everything?"

Mulder nodded against him. "Except little things like paperwork and getting approval for my little excursions."

"Was Kyle really feeling you up?"

Mulder nodded against him. "Are you going to fight a duel with your stepbrother over my virtue?"

"Your what?"

"Thanks." Mulder shrugged again.

"Why didn’t you say anything?"

"Because your parents were there. I didn’t want to embarrass anyone."

"If he touches you again, I’m --"

"I’m a big boy, Daddy. If he does it again, I’ll …" he chuckled. "I’ll sic Scully on him."

"Don’t call me Daddy, or I’ll spank you."

Mulder lifted his head. "This violence thing is a real turn-on for you, isn’t it?"

"Actually, the only thing about bondage that holds any interest for me is the idea of gagging you."

"With what?"

"I am going to spank you."

"Promises, promises." Mulder settled down again.

"You do know I’d never deliberately hurt you, don’t you?"

"I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean," Mulder murmured.

"You were earlier."

"Oh, that was just for tonight." Mulder’s voice was getting softer. "We’ll talk about your leather fetish some other time."

"Mulder, don’t you dare fall asleep. There’s no way I could get you out of this tub."

"I won’t," Mulder promised, yawning.

Skinner caressed his shoulder gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy."

"I brought the Righteous Brothers CD," Skinner said. "Let’s dance."

"I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the dancing," Mulder complained, rolling over.

"What do you want to do?"

Mulder sat up, stretched lazily and smiled mysteriously. "I want to go watch the sun come up over one of those famous black beaches."

"Mulder?"

Mulder was pulling himself up out of the tub. "Mmm?"

"How about a cat?"

"Sure. Let’s get two cats." He reached for a towel. "We can call them William and Sergei Jr." He rubbed himself for a minute. "Why Sergei?"

Skinner looked up at him. "It was my grandfather’s name."

"Oh." Mulder brushed the towel over Skinner’s body. "Looks like you’re going to have to wear a shirt for the next few days."

Skinner looked down. He had red welts on his chest and shoulders. When did Mulder do that? "Seriously. Why Fox?"

Mulder’s eyes were wide open. "I have no idea," he confessed. "To be honest, I never asked. I hated the name too much to want details. I just assumed my parents thought they were being funny, or cruel." He screwed up his mouth. "If we ever do have kids, no weird, trendy or bizarre names. Something like John or Mary or something."

Skinner smiled to himself. "Dana?" he suggested.

He saw a flicker of wistfulness in Mulder’s eyes. "Oh, no," he said on a sigh.

Skinner touched Mulder’s shoulder. "Sun will be coming up soon. We’d better hurry if we’re going down to the beach."

Mulder nodded and went out to the closet to get a pair of jeans.

Skinner dressed quickly, and threw a couple of things into his briefcase. Mulder’s eyes narrowed when he saw that Skinner was taking the briefcase with them as they went down the steps from the terrace. "And no one believes me when I tell them you’re romantic," he mumbled.

When they got down to the beach, the very edges of the horizon were turning a pale pink. Skinner put down a towel on the black sand, sat and opened the briefcase. He pulled out two champagne flutes and held them up to Mulder. Then he pulled out a small split of champagne. And finally, he pulled out Mulder’s portable CD player, with the little speakers that he used when he was working in Skinner’s den. He popped the champagne cork and filled the two glasses in Mulder’s hands. "Here’s to us," he said, and kissed Mulder gently. He bent down, turned on the CD and let Unchained Melody spill out into the silent beach. "I told you we’d dance before the night was over." He pulled Mulder into his arms and held him, swaying gently to the music.

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

From her window, Dana Scully looked out at the beach and sighed. Two men she loved and feared, fought with, laughed with, cried with, two men with so much capacity to love, were dancing as the sun came up. She watched as Skinner dipped his head, murmuring something in Mulder’s ear. Mulder’s head tipped back and he laughed. And they just kept on dancing.

- THE END -
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