TITLE: Discordia Concors
NAME: frogdoggie
E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: SRA
RATING: NC-17. This story contains VERY GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEX BETWEEN MEN. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed.
SUMMARY: Mulder and Skinner deal with the aftermath of Baton Rouge. Can their new relationship survive the Scully factor? Read on and find out.
Obviously you may want to read my previous story, "Baton Rouge" to understand this narrative. "Baton Rouge" can be found on my web site at: https://www.squidge.org/3wstop
FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? I use them to roast weenies, hamburgers and Italian sausages on the grill.
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING.: After the film I think - next season? I do deal with events from the film but bearing in mind the nature of the relationships in this story I had to mess with the mytharc a bit.
KEYWORDS: story angst slash Skinner Mulder NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Jana Cassidy, Jeffrey Spender 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. 

Author's Notes at the end. 

Discordia Concors
by frogdoggie
8/17/98

discordia concors: Latin for harmonious discord: harmony or unity gained by combining disparate or conflicting elements.
- Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 

I've never had a woman throw a shoe at me. A vase, but never a shoe. Phoebe beaned me with the vase. In a London hotel. Typical Pheebe histrionics. "Fox - you bloody wanker!" Whiz - Crash. Of course, it wasn't her damn vase. But that was typical too. She was good at destroying other people's property. I still have the scar right above my hairline over my left eye. Her aim sucked. She was looking to nail me in the nuts. 

Now Scully lobbed that shoe with all the accuracy of an ace major league pitcher. And I think she even put a curve on that pump. It seemed like she was off to my left somewhere, and wham - plush pump bullseye smack in the middle of my forehead. Bruise city. I yelled "Batter take your base?" and she threw the other heel. "Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!" Well that retort went over like a lead balloon too. I ducked into the can and locked the door thinking the Smith and Wesson was coming out next. There is precedence after all. 

And why was she resorting to high heel hard ball you ask? Well, it was because I had finally gotten around to telling her about Walter. I mean explaining that Walter Skinner and I were lovers. Scully and I had just gotten through a 48 hour fuck fest ourselves and I thought - well, Mulder, you big love monkey you - maybe it's about time you told her what went on between you and Walter during that VCS case in Baton Rouge. How Walter was a closet queer and a virgin to boot. How you fell hopelessly in love, and in lust. How you burst Walter's cherry and...well you get the picture. 

Christ - I had to tell her. Scully and I don't keep anything from each other any longer. We're way past that little boondoggle in our relationship for God's sake. It was just that there hadn't been much opportunity lately to go into the nitty gritty of *Wally World*. Walter was a complicated subject - not something I felt comfortable talking to my other life and work partner about over a bowl of *clear your sinus* chili at our next Denny's dinner break. These delicate descriptions of desire take time. Scully and I just hadn't had enough slack seconds in months. More about that in a moment. 

At any rate, she hurled the high heel missile not because she was angry that Walter and I are lovers. She had always said she wouldn't begrudge me a male lover. She more then understands my needs in that area. And of course she likes and respects Walter. He comes under that heading I told you about once. The *might be an acceptable male* heading. 

No, she was pissed because I had delayed telling her about Walter for several months. But for Christ sake, Dallas and freezing our buns off (not to mention almost dying), in Antarctica were sort of sandwiched in there you know. "When was there time, Dana?" I kept asking her. She kept kvetching about lying bundled up with me in the Sno-Cat while we ran out what was left of the gas in the tank trying to stay alive. Help would arrive. I knew it was coming because I'd called it down before hand. I just wasn't positive it would come in time. 

"Why didn't you say something when we were lying nose to nose, Mulder. Huh, huh?" she insisted on asking. 

Well good Lord woman, you were too busy sucking my face for me to get a word in edgewise anyway. Of course maybe the fact that I'd made love to her to keep her warm might have had something to do with her response there. She woke up in the Sno-Cat with both my hands under the parka I'd dressed her in. I certainly got a great big smile along with the raised eyebrow. She'd gotten the message when I teased her nipples. Oh yeah. Making love just seemed so right. Besides warming us up really fast - we... we felt like it might have been the last time you know. If the helicopters hadn't come...well I don't even want to think about that happening to her. I hadn't wanted it to happen in that fucking *Mothership* and I was damned if I'd let it happen out on that ice plain. We made love and then afterwards I made her laugh like hell at every lame joke in my repertoire too - anything to keep her awake, aware and alive. 

When we heard the choppers we felt like celebrating even though we were close to collapse. We were alive against all odds and we felt on top of the world. I'd regained my faith in the fight and Scully was right there with me now every step of the way. 

Speaking of choppers - I do have one little side issue here. You know what? I sort of thought Scully would have smelled a rat down in Antarctica as well. I mean tweaked on to the idea that maybe Walter and I felt something for each other? But her mind wasn't looking for a connection between Walter and me so perhaps I'm wrong in that hypothesis. Besides that - she passed out again shortly after the helicopters reached us. 

But who saw to it that we were rescued? Well, besides the Lone Gunmen? Walter, that's who. I had made one call to the LGM before I drove across the edge of the Ross Ice Shelf. I didn't want to call any of Walter's numbers for fear the call would be intercepted. But I told Frohike to contact Walter immediately and give him the coordinates. The AD came to Antarctica for crying out loud. I don't know how he managed to swing that trip but he was in the first chopper that touched down on the snow. 

It was incredibly touching to see him there. I was beyond words. Scully was groggy and all she managed to croak out was - "Sir?" Walter was so wonderful with her too. "It's ok, Scully," he'd told her as he stroked her hair. "We're going to get you warmed up. Just hang on." he added and then he picked her up like she was a rag doll and took her to the waiting copter after she'd fainted again. 

He was trying to hold it all in too - the worry, the caring...everything. Fuck. He must have been utterly panicked but he was still so afraid to let any of it show. He's still very good at keeping it undercover, in the closet. He's my undercover man in more ways than one. But when he faced me in that copter the depth of his emotions was plain to see if only for a few heartbeats. My heart swelled with the sight. If I had any doubts that he loved me they were banished in that noisy helicopter when I looked into his eyes. 

I still remember him helping me to break out of the hospital. Hell, he was willing to go after Scully himself if I'd been incapable. But the look of desolation when he realized I was going to go it alone coupled with the realization that he knew there was no way he could go with me was terrible to see. Leaving him was hard but he's a big boy. I knew he'd cope. And this was Scully. There was no way in hell I wasn't going. No fucking way. 

On the ice, Walter couldn't show his relief in finding either of us. His relief at finding me alive. In the copter he helped to wrap us in insulated blankets and surreptitiously held my hand when he thought no one was looking. I squeezed his fingers to let him know I was appreciative. When they loaded us off at the Air Force base hospital he had one moment, bending close to my ear, to tell me he loved me. It was such a risk. I teared up and the tears felt so cold in my eyes. I mouthed the same words back. I meant them with every fiber of my being. He smiled and I knew my faith to fight on had another ally besides my Scully. But Scully missed all of these events. It took another grueling X-File, a weekend of sexual healing and the aforementioned tossed shoes to get us into synch on Walter Skinner. 

But, when all was said and done Scully had a good reason I guess for hating the fact I'd delayed revealing my relationship with the AD. 

Scully had decided Walter would make a good match for her mother, Maggie. Yikes. I imagine she was just a tad embarrassed to find out why Walter hadn't been receptive to her veiled suggestions that her mother was dating again and he might consider squiring her to some official FBI function if he had the inclination. Holy shit! Well needless to say, Walter's inclinations don't run in that direction. At least not if he has a choice. And sometimes he doesn't have one. More about that later too. 

But - how the hell Scully ever got up the nerve to even make a veiled suggestion to *The Boss* regarding Mrs. Scully I'll never know. She has always been distant and professional with him. A bit nervously stand offish in acknowledgment of his authority. He makes her think of her late father. Maybe that's what precipitated the dating idea. Who knows. But she did hint and Walter acted as thick as a brick over the suggestion. That's his defense mechanism - obtuseness - when he needs to draw on it. Scully kept after him though so that must be really grating on her now too. C'est la vie. I think circumstances here just worked against us. Scully and I are all right with it now. She just wants me to tell Walter about us now too. Well, I'm getting around to it. I really am. 

When we returned from Baton Rouge Walter and I more or less went our separate ways. Our reactions there were a bit of a defense mechanism as well, I believe. I mean things had been so intense that last night in the hotel. Intense the whole damn time down in Baton Rouge. Walter needed time to decompress and I needed time with Scully in the worst way. She'd gotten back from San Diego and was needing my special tender loving care and made no bones about it when I walked into her apartment. 

So, it was once more into the breach Mulder and I was ecstatic to do it. No question. God, it felt so fantastic to be in her arms. Scully and I didn't see the outside of her place for 24 hours. I took a few days off after that as well just to get my personal affairs together. A trip to Connecticut to visit my mother presented itself. I'd put off seeing mom for too long. When I returned Scully and I were on the road again. New Hampshire. Well the mountains were scenic. Then we went to Arkansas, Utah, back east to New York then to...well you get the idea. 

Then there was the fire. And then came Dallas and Anarctica. Scully and I took some time off after our date with the Mothership. A few days. It doesn't sound long enough does it? Yeah, well it's true the frostbite had hardly healed before we were back in the saddle again. But, I did sense a new eagerness in Scully to get back to work. And truth be told I was champing at the proverbial bit as well. So it was the endless roadtrip scenario once more. We were off to Maine and then Wisconsin, Washington, Rhode Island, California, New Jersey. My partner and I started to feel like pinballs getting slapped from one coast to the other. If work was what we craved the Bureau was more than happy to oblige. 

I did manage to see Walter for one night in there somewhere. We had dinner out and sat around talking at his apartment afterwards. The new apartment. Walter moved up in the world. He still lives in the same building in that Crystal City high rise but when one of the two bedrooms on the top floor became available The Boss moved up to that nosebleed neighborhood. The new apartment has some view and he got the home office he wanted and needed in the form of the second bedroom. I wish I'd been around to help the big man move. I could have thought of some inventive ways to christen his new accommodations. Oh yes. 

At any rate, that evening was when he told me the basement office was going to be renovated. Scully and I were still in temporary quarters over in VCS. But, since the fire hadn't caused as much structural damage as originally thought the powers that be deemed the basement digs salvageable. So, plans were slowly progressing in that direction. He was a little shamefaced about our being shoved back into the bowels of the Hoover Building. But I could have cared less really. My faith was renewed and the location for our battle was less important then the actual war. I ended up staying over. We slept together - just slept. No sex. I think both of us were still a little shell shocked and I know I was totally exhausted. I found out though that the AD gives a pretty decent back massage himself. His hands sent me to sleep before I even realized he was doing it. I haven't seen him alone since that night. I miss my big bed buddy fiercely, madly, deeply. 

So, that sort of brings me up to the present. It's the end of October. Halloween's next weekend. Scully and I have just moved back into the basement. It's not quite the same. Some accouterments are a hell of a lot better, especially for *La Scully*. We have separate very rich looking wooden desks with comfortable ergonomic chairs and ta da - our own individual nameplates. The rest looks like most people's version of a disaster area all ready. The Mulder touch strikes again to make things more comfortable. My little homey anti-Martha Stewart efforts. Scully isn't complaining either. She's hyped on her new desk, nameplate, PC, laptop, phone and personal extension, individual coffee pot, new mug, etc. etc. So many changes. I wish we had the files back though. Christ I do angst over them. That's one change I'd like to see taken back. But the rest... 

We have Walter to thank for the good changes. He pressed and he pressed hard for them. After his less than gentle upper echelon rumble with that bitch Jana Cassidy from OPR to reopen the X-Files, Walter took advantage of his victory. He really stuck it to her on the remodeling. He got everything he wanted for us in that area. I still wonder if he should have been less...vengeful concerning Ms. Cassidy. Less the butch faggot in rubbing her *how dare you lady* nose in his machismo one-up-manship. She was such a ball breaker though I can see where he was tempted to do it. She needed someone to yank her down a notch and Walter was just the boy to do it too. But if he hadn't been such a cocksucker things might have gone differently. But who would have even dreamed what her frigging reaction would be to all that Walter Skinner forcefulness. I didn't see it coming. No sirree. Just wait. You'll suck a lemon too when you get to that part of my little narrative. Remember I said choices? Oh yeah. 

So, Scully and I sat in the basement on a Thursday afternoon going through endless reams of paperwork from our last trip to *hole in the wall*, *nowherewierdsville* USA. 

"Mulder, don't forget I'm visiting my mother this weekend," she had just finished telling me. She was leaving Friday morning. Three day weekend. Maggie Scully deserved it. She hadn't seen her daughter in a coons age. I was supposed to grab Scully's mail for her. 

"Yes, ma'am. Mulder mailman at your service." 

"Thank you kind sir," she smiled back at me. She looked so relaxed and radiant despite having been up to her knees in sheep shit only two days ago. No one could look as good as Dana Scully could even if the person had been up to their eyeballs in...well she just looked superb. 

"So what are your weekend plans?" she asked as she typed some more case notes into her PC. Click, click, click. I grew fascinated for a second just watching her graceful fingers fly over the keyboard. I hunt and peck. Had been doing it for two hours. But Scully? She's a keyboard virtuoso. 

I opened my mouth to reply, "No plans, light of my life," when my phone rang. In house call. /Then again/, I thought. I picked it up. 

"Mulder." 

"Mulder, I'd like to see you in my office. I have some questions regarding your part of this expense report." 

Walter weekend calling I thought. I hoped anyway. Jesus I missed him too. Missed him just like I was starting to miss Scully all ready even though she was only going for a weekend with Maggie.

"Yes sir, I'll be right up." 

"Fine," he replied tersely and hung up. I dropped the receiver gently into the cradle. I was staring at the phone a little too long. Scully noticed my pensive look. 

"Expense report grilling," I shrugged at her. 

"Are you going to tell him?" 

I looked over at her. Eyebrow time. Oh brother. I sighed. 

"In his office? What do you think?" 

They suck the Hoover for bugs more than the LGM sweep their flea bitten dump of an office which is saying a lot. But Scully and I were never sure whether the walls had ears. So we didn't discuss too many personal or sensitive business items on the JOB. Oh sure, sometimes it couldn't be helped. The sexual innuendo down here gets pretty thick sometimes for example. But as a rule we're a trifle circumspect. And, I sure as hell didn't want to whisper sweet nothings into Walter's ear in his office either. But as it turned out I was a fool for love - what can I say. 

"You know what I mean," she went back to typing. Her lips were pursing. Oh lovely. Just the weekend send off I needed - Dana "Dies Irae" Scully. Shit. 

"Look, if the opportunity presents itself later (like after a great roll in the hay this weekend), I'll broach the subject, OK?" I replied. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice but it was hard. 

"Don't you think that would be best?" she asked looking up at me again over her glasses. 

Oh Lord. "No I think we should just lie like rugs for as long as we can, Dana. Why let on that..." 

"All right, all right, I get the point," she chuckled slightly. 

"I'm so glad I can make you laugh," I groused getting up and pulling on my suit coat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, really, Mulder. But, Fox, if you could see your face." 

"Yeah? What about my face?" 

My turn to arch the eyebrow. You'll notice we use those first names now. Almost dying on the fucking *Aliens* wannabe Mothership in Antarctica did that to us. We fall into that familiarity quite often now. It's weird - we do it in the office the most. When we're in bed it's still Scully and Mulder. Believe it or not, Mr. Ripley. Strange but true. 

"You look like what's his name - like Dudley Moore in Ten when he was lusting after Bo Derrick." 

"Oh thanks a lot, you bitch," I start to laugh like hell, "I'll remember that little observation, just you wait." Visions of Walter running on a beach with a hell of a lot more hair jump into my mind. I start to laugh even more hard. I tried to stop it though. I didn't want to show up in Walter's office with my schnoze all red and dripping snot after all. 

Scully was laughing hard now too, "Takes one to know one, Mulder." 

"One?" 

"Bitch to know another..." 

"No shit, Ms. Joan Crawford. Or is it Bette today, Baby Jane?" I could throw a few more famous, brazen fag hags at her but she's gotten the point. However, she does have one last zinger up her sleeve. Boy if this place is bugged the dorks eavesdropping are getting a fucking weird fruity earful here. 

"Want to borrow my copy of Bolero?" she chokes out as I stride to the office door. Gotcha Mulder. 

I turn, red faced with mirth. My eyes are watering with my vain attempt to shut off my laughter. 

"I'll think about it Ms. Garland," I volley back. 

"All right, Scarecrow. But just remember - we aren't in Kansas any more," she finishes with a blithe little wave of her hand. 

"Yeah, we were in fucking Hoboken," I end on that brilliant note, adjusting my tie and smoothing my hair as I leave. She's whistling *Somewhere Over the Rainbow* at her Pledge shiny wooden desk and I shake my head as I enter the elevator. 

Kimberly Cook lies in wait outside Walter's door. Some agents consider her the *Dragon Lady*, guarding Walter's inner sanctum from all intruders. Kimberly's really a doll if you know how to handle her. We get along just fine. I smile good afternoon at her. 

"Mulder, wipe that smirk off your face, he's on the warpath - it's not going to help." Kimberly advises as soon as I'm standing in front of her desk. She likes me, so I get the warning. If it was say, Agent Colter, she'd let him walk into the lion's den with a steak hanging around his neck. 

Oh Oh, I think. Maybe this really is an expense report grilling after all. I start to think back over my charges in a desperate attempt to get them straight in my head. For the life of me I can't come up with any gross errors for a change. The effort to reconcile my costs wipes the grin from my face quite successfully. My brow furrows and my lips set in a tight line. Kimberly takes in the change in my demeanor. 

"Passable," she notes, "you look just like him. Now get in there. He's probably tapping his foot by now." 

Christ all mighty. I swallow and prepare to scale the walls of the castle keep. 

Walter is standing behind his desk with his back to the door. His hands are in his pockets and he's looking out his office window. I can tell his back is tense. I clear my throat. 

"Sit down, Mulder," he orders without turning around. 

I park it in one of the hot seats in front of his desk. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, twists his head to get that satisfying vertebrae crack. I wince. He finally turns around. 

Well he does look like he missed his Metamucil again this morning. 

"Sir?" I ask. 

"Corporation for Public Broadcasting," he throws back at me. 

/What the fuck?/ runs across my frontal lobe. 

"What?" 

"The building across the street. A couple of floors house The Corporation for Public Broadcasting." he sighs. 

Oh yeah, of course. Now I get the reference. I lean forward in the chair to get a closer view out the window. "Is that woman showing off her bike shorts again? You know, that cute little number with the spandex under her..." 

"Yeah, she's not bad at all if I cared to go there. But no, sorry. I was just thinking about...real public service." he shrugs and sits down at his desk. I step back 

Oh blow me. I hope this isn't going to be a mid-life crisis moment here flashes through my mind. Well if it is I guess I'd better deal with it. After all, when I make a life commitment with someone it's for better or worse. I don't dick around. It's not my way. I wait patiently for Walter to release the next salvo.

He continues to stare at me. All right, I'll bite I figure. What the fuck's up. 

"Did you want to see me about the expense report, sir?" I ask. 

"I just wanted to see you," he replies quietly, "I haven't...Mulder, it's been weeks. Crap," he shakes his head ruefully and smiles a little. Oh God. I'm starting to feel warm and my stomach is fluttering all over. He looks gorgeous. The big softy. He misses me too. I can't believe he's saying this here though. I just hope the Hoover bug suck works or we are in deep doo doo. Maybe I should consider smuggling Frohike or Langly in here for a really professional going over. Their bug hunting methods are fool proof. Walter is looking at me again and I'm suddenly lost in the depths of his liquid brown eyes. 

"I know, I've missed you too. It's the circumstances, Walter. But it hasn't been easy." 

"No shit," he nodded looking down under my intense scrutiny. He picked up some papers on his desk and shuffled them around a little before he met my eyes again. 

"So, what do you want to do about it?" I asked. Walter likes the direct approach. I decide on a full frontal assault. Full frontal? Hell yes I'd like a full frontal...full body press...skin to skin... Hump his brains out in his executive washroom. God, I'd like to strip him naked and throw him across his desk. That would certainly put on a show for the folks across the street at CPB. 

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned. I love that smile. His whole damn face changes when he lets me see those pearly whites. 

Walter opened his desk drawer and took out a set of keys on a ring. He gave the keys a little shove towards me across his blotter. I shifted forward and picked them up. I smiled back. 

"Why Walter, are these the keys to the kingdom?" I tease putting the metal passport into my inner suit coat pocket. 

"The keys to the whole fucking kingdom," he replied in a low growl. 

Oh Fuck. I'm hard in an instant. He sees the expression on my face. Sweat must be pooling on my upper lip. I'm sliding around on the hot seat to ease the pressure in my balls. I lick my lips but find out the perspiration was in my fevered imagination. Walter's smile widens, becomes devilish. Jesus, I want that mouth. 

"Did you have plans for the weekend?" he asked, toying with the file on his desk. 

"I do now." 

"All right then. Well, uh, you can let yourself in tomorrow night if that works for you. The silver key opens the front door to the building. The gold key unlocks my apartment door. I'd very much like it if you'd join me there this weekend," he ends more formerly. 

"Is that an order?" I smirk. 

"Fuck you, you dick," he laughs. 

"I certainly hope so," I whisper and he barks a really loud laugh. 

"I take it you're working late tomorrow?" I venture. I don't want this moment to end now. The heat between my legs feels so welcome even though I know I can't do anything about it right now. Anticipation is bliss with Walter, or Scully too for that matter. Besides, I'm just enjoying Walter's presence too much to want our little tete a tete to end too soon. 

"Yeah. I have an afternoon meeting I know is going to drag out. But, I hope it won't take too long," he nods. 

"Want me to get dinner?" 

"Don't go to any trouble." 

"Hey, I can dial with the best of them," I advise making a punching motion with my index finger. 

Walter chuckles again, "Ok, whatever you're hungry for, Mulder." 

"You mean besides you?" I grin. Oh that gets him. I notice he's shifting in his not so comfy chair now. Gotcha by the willie there Wally I think with smug satisfaction. I really will have to try phone sex with this guy sometime - he's a prime candidate for some audio dynamite I do believe. 

"I was thinking Chinese, Thai, something Asian," he swallows hard. Oh yeah baby. Just wait. I know a few Asian delicacies I bet you've never had Mr. Skinner. 

"Sounds like a plan. Scully told me about a good Thai restaurant near your place if my memory doesn't fail me." Of course it never does - being eidetic has it's advantages in a multitude of situations. 

"Thai would be fine," Walter nods again and I sense we'd better wrap up our little assignation thang. Walter sighs. 

"Yeah, I have to let you out of here. I have a meeting in a few minutes. So..." he lets his voice trail off and raps his knuckles on his desk. 

"Friday then." 

"OK," he grins. 

"I'll keep the home fires burning until you get there, sir," I whisper as I rise to leave. 

"See that you do, Agent Mulder," he growls in mock seriousness. I'm reaching for the door handle when he delivers his parting remark and I smile without turning. 

"And Agent Mulder?" 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Congratulations. This is the first error free expense report I've seen from you in over 5 years. I'm thinking of framing it." 

I laugh, open the door and head back to Scully in the basement. Maybe she'd like to quit early I think. I can take her home and help her...pack. Yeah, we can pack it in all right, I smirk. I rearrange the extra pistol I'm now packing in my pocket and hit the down button on the elevator. 

xXx 

Friday morning dawns Scullyless and I'm a little glum. But my Walter weekend looms so my spirits are uplifted before I even hit the door to the Hoover Building. When I arrived in the basement I was met with a pleasant site on my desk as well. A note and diskette from Scully. 

>>>Mulder: 

Here are the completed autopsy notes from Hoboken. All you need to do is insert them into your part of the report and we're home free. Good luck with Skinner this afternoon. And good luck this weekend too. Don't muck it up, loverboy. And I don't just mean the Hoboken case report, Dudley. See you on Monday." 

DKS<<< 

I tell you - what a woman. Can you say Nora Charles, Mrs. Thin Man? Yeah, I knew you could. We'd spent last night doing the wild thang and here she gets in early to drop these notes off for me. Bark at that bone, Asta Mulder. Good dog. She just sends me. Scully does, I mean it. There is no one to match her efficiency or her rapier wit. I love a woman that keeps up with me, yessiree. I really love a woman with more efficiency in her little finger then I have in my entire body. I don't know what this pseudo Nick Charles would do without his Nora. Have mercy. 

I was smiling wide as I booted up my PC and slipped the disk in the A drive. I knew those autopsy notes would fit seamlessly in with my - ok - rather passable case report. I don't like to let my light stay under a bushel all the time. Fine - the report was a fucking masterpiece. I knew Walter would approve it and the flawless autopsy notes would only insure the good reception. So there. 

I sat down to blend Scully and my words of faultless wisdom in preparation for my 1:30 meeting with Walter *wait till you get home, baby* Skinner. 

I was approaching Walter's outer office, report in hand, just before 1:30 when I saw Kimberly ducking for cover. Oh fuck. I could hear Walter all the way down the God damn hall. He was cursing someone out in there. Atypical. He usually did that with more restraint. Quiet flaming. A subtle roasting on his turning spit. I know, believe me. But he was bellowing like a wounded moose behind his closed door. Kimberly walked past me in a hurry.

"I'm going for coffee. Take a seat. I'll be back in a minute," she nodded back into the outer waiting area. 

"Who the hell's in there with him?" I shot after her retreating back. 

"Agent Spender," she hissed as she swung her empty coffee cup up towards her head in a surprising imitation of a slaughter hammer. 

Jeffrey Spender? Good. Meat for the beast and I wouldn't want to see it any other way. The pencil necked geek. God, I hate his guts. Gee don't mince words, Mulder. Ok, I won't. I think he's a mutherfucking traitor and as soon as I can prove it for sure he's going down. I told him that once, and I never spoke a more true threat before in my life. I keep expecting to see him standing in Walter's office sucking on a fucking Morley cigarette someday. The good and faithful son - nepotism allowing him to follow in his Godforsaken father's footsteps. Allowing him to hurt Walter again. I'll see Spender in hell before I let that happen. 

But for now, I bide my time. I need proof and I don't have it yet. But soon. Very soon. I enter the enclosed waiting area and take a seat to wait for Walter to get done laying waste to Special Agent Jerkwad Suspender. I can hear him behind the closed door and I can't help but smile in malicious glee. I tap the report file against my leg. 

"If I ever hear about you obstructing local law enforcement like that again, Agent Spender I'll have your badge and gun. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Sir, I think..." 

"Spender, you're *not* thinking you insubordinate asshole. That's the fucking problem here. Take my advice - I'd reconsider my reply right now, agent - or suffer the consequences." 

"Yes." 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, you are making yourself very clear." 

"Very clear?" 

"Very clear, sir." 

"Good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding." 

"Yes, sir." 

"All right, you're dismissed. I'll handle this mess with the Bristol, Virginia PD. But next time mister, your ass is grass. Now get out." 

I pretend to clean some lint off my pants leg as Walter's office door flies open. Jeffrey can barely contain himself but he does manage to catch the swinging wood before it slams back into the wall and signals his ire to everyone on this floor. He pushes the door shut after him and advances on me. 

I smile sarcastically up at him, pinning his eyes. Die, Die My Darling! I wish I *had* that fucking film's ax in my hands. I'd whack it through his scrawny pencil neck. He glares at me. Nope - no love lost there either. Spender hates my tensing intestines all right. He's the first to look away though as he bulls his way past me and out into the hallway. The returning Kimberly Cook dances out of the way managing to spill nary a drop of her steaming hot fresh coffee. 

"It's alive," I quip as she takes her seat behind her desk. 

"Barely, from the looks of things. I thought I saw a blood trail," she chuckles. 

"I wish," I return her humor. 

You know, I suspect once in a while that Kimberly Cook is a woman wearing comfortable shoes. You've heard that slang term haven't you? No? well, women in comfortable shoes equals lesbian. I mean I think Kim's gay. I don't know why but she strikes me as...well I get the idea she knows and understands about Walter and me at least. She's just a hell of a good-natured human being. I guess I'm jumping to conclusions regarding her sexual orientation out of seeing a kindred spirit. She detests Spender as much as I do. And she does guard Walter from all disturbing influences when she can. If she is gay she has the perfect cover as well. The office gossip says she's been boinking Walter for years. Well, I know that little rumor mill factoid is way off base. Walter has heard the rumor too. Hell, he probably started it. Or maybe Kim did. Who knows. Christ why should I care anyway? But it is interesting to speculate. Just call me Fox Mulder, National Enquirer reporter wannabe. The truth is out there. Lord. 

"You might as well go in, Mulder. He is expecting you and it's all ready almost 2 o'clock. He's got a meeting at 2:30 with all the other Assistant Directors and Louis himself," Kim nods her head towards The Boss's door. 

Jana Cassidy and Director Freeh? Holy shit. I'd better stop at National Liquor on the way to his place after work. Walter's going to need his bourbon tonight, baby. God. 

"Ok, if I don't come out after the allotted time, call out the dogs," I replied setting my shoulders. 

"How do I know what the allotted time is, agent?" she grins. 

"Use your judgment, Kim. But remember, timing is everything." 

"I'll take that under advisement." she replies, raising an eyebrow as I turn my back on her. 

Once I'm inside Walter's office I look around in bewilderment for a second. He's not there. I toss the report on his blotter and then I hear the water running. He's in his perk - the executive can. 

Oh my. I walk over and stand in the doorway. Walter's back is to me and he's literally throwing water directly from the gushing tap all over his face. I can tell by the way the muscles in his neck are jumping that the full force spray is ice cold. Oh crap. If I had a reason for icing Jeffrey *eat my bullet* Spender before I have even more of a reason now. He's obviously fucked Walter over into near apoplexy the sick sack of shit. 

Walter keeps slapping the water. I approach him from behind and gently touch either side of his waist with my hands. Oh Christ what a mistake. His reaction is instantaneous. He whirls and one hand grips my neck. His Glock is stuck to the side of my skull before I can even blink. 

"JesusHChrist, Mulder!" he barks in panic. The gun goes up just as fast. His hand is shaking around his piece. He yanks it behind him, tabbing the safety back on and lays the semi-automatic on the small vanity. He looks down, gasping. 

"God, I'm sorry," I whisper, touching his face. 

"I almost shot you, you crazy asshole." He grabs for a paper towel and wipes his face dry. The towel goes next to the Glock.  The Glock gets picked back up and goes in his holster.

"I know. I...I shouldn't have startled you. It *was* an asinine move," I reply moving closer and taking him by the waist. I circle him with my arms. He settles against me with a sigh. He looks straight into my face. The kiss comes and it's hot and searing. He takes the lead and I let him. He needs to show his relief, his apology for nearly capping me. Walter's hands grip my head, pulling me by the hair as he crushes me against his mouth. I guess it has been a long time. My God. What a performance. I'm melting against him, hardly able to breath and not caring one bit, as his tongue thrusts in and explores the entire inside of my mouth. 

Finally he breaks away and his gasping this time has nothing to do with panic at nearly shooting me. 

"Jesus," he breaths out and turns away slightly. He's coming back to himself. I smile. Yeah, he's realizing where he is and why this probably isn't a really good idea. I mean sucking face in his office can isn't exactly a stellar example of good judgment. But what the hell. He adjusts his specs. 

"Better?" I ask him quietly. 

"More than better, but shit, I have a meeting in..." he glances back down at his watch. 

I step back to allow him some space, to give him a chance to regain his composure, his formality. 

"A little less than twenty minutes," he finishes looking back up into my eyes. My gaze strays to his crotch. 

"Yeah, and I gotta get rid of that too before I see the fucking Director," he chuckles. 

"Well..." 

"No way, Jose. Get the hell out of here. I'll take matters into my own hands," he nods towards the door, "I have to get out of the can at some point this afternoon." 

"Shit, Walter. I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered here." I smirk. I can see his point though. It's been so long that if I did go down on him I know I wouldn't be able to stop there. I'd want a hell of a lot longer than 20 too and I doubt Walter keeps lube in his executive can. 

"Take my word for it Mulder, it's a compliment, all right. Now blow," he waves me out, chuckling at the double entendre. 

"What about the report?" I ask as I cross back in front of his desk. 

"Report? Hey, saved by the bell my man. If I read that thing I should get rid of this boner through shear boredom," he laughs. He's really on a roll now. Blowing off steam after the scare in the can and the earlier Spender anger bender. I play along. 

"You shithead. Scully and I slaved over that deathless classic. You can't fool me, Walter. I know you get off on our reports. You're just going to use it for a fuckrag. What am I gonna tell Scully when she finds the pages all sticky?" 

"Do your own filing, Mulder, then she won't find out. Or better yet, just tell her you were reading it in front of one of your fuck flicks." 

"Oh easy for you to say, Mr. *I'd be lost without Kimberly Cook's filing expertise* AD. And you know of course that half the Bureau thinks you're putting it to her between the file cabinets." 

He's laughing in earnest now and it's a joy to see. The humor is having another affect as well. He's losing his hard on. Well I'll have to remember that useful bit of information. 

"Between the filing cabinets? Isn't that a little indirect? I mean off target grammatically, Agent Mulder?" 

"Well, your aim sucks anyway, Walter - regardless of the bad grammar." 

"I could say something about sucking too, Mulder - but I'll have mercy on you." 

"Thank God for small favors, sir." 

I'm at his door and he's standing by his desk with his hand on his stomach, the laughter vibrating through his entire body. 

"Get out of here you lunatic. I'll see you tonight," he chokes out as quietly as he can. 

"Right. Later." I grin back at him as I open the office door. I hold that picture of his smiling and laughing face so I can keep it in my minds eye until I see him again this evening. I shut the door and turn to see Kimberly also smiling in my direction over the remnants of her last cup of coffee. 

"Thanks, Mulder," she says ducking her head slightly over the mug. 

"For what, Kim?" I ask pinning her caramel colored eyes. 

"For making him laugh," she answers as she turns and sets the cup down next to her PC. 

"It was my pleasure," I mumble as she goes back to her quick and efficient typing. 

xXx 

I left work at 5 o'clock. The meeting Walter had started at 2:30 was still going on and that did not bode well. I all ready figured he'd be late and prepared myself for the eventuality. I had to stop at Scully's apartment to take in her mail and paper anyway. I also intended to stop at my place to pack a bag for the weekend since I got sidetracked on doing that Thursday night. I was also going to change into casual clothes, collect a few CDs and feed my fish. I'd check back for my mail on Sunday morning or something. Whatever. No big deal. After those stops I drove to the Thai restaurant and then National Liquor for a bottle of top shelf bourbon. I don't drink it very often. I don't drink much at all really. But Walter likes to down one or two after a day like today. The deliciously spicy smell of the Thai food made my trip to Walter's apartment a pleasure even though my stomach was growling by the time I got there. It was 8 o'clock. I thought he would have beaten me home. 

An empty, dark and lonely apartment greeted me when I used the gold key and swung open the door. 

Shit. 

I sighed and dropped my duffel on the floor. The small thud it made on the soft, plush tawny colored carpeting echoed throughout the cavernous apartment interior. 

I moved through Papa Bear's den, turning on lights as I went. The soft glow of the lamps mitigated some of the sterile loneliness of a Walterless world. The kitchen light went on last. I opened the fridge and placed the big bag full of little Thai food boxes into it's cold caress. I took out a Diet Coke and sat it on the counter. Just as I shut the fridge door my cell phone rang. I grabbed the phone out of the pocket of my leather jacket and flipped it open. 

"Mulder." 

"Nine o'clock. I swear to God, Mulder. Nine." 

"Walter?" 

"Yeah." 

"Where the hell are you?" 

He was talking over what sounded like the noise of flushing toilets. 

"I'm in the can at Casey's bar, Mulder." 

"Casey's by the Hoover building?" 

"Right. I'll explain when I get home. Nine o'clock. I mean it." 

"Ok, lover. Nine. I'll get the food ready." 

"Thai?" he asked hopefully. 

"The works." 

"Outstanding. I'll see you in about an hour." Click. 

What the devil? Well he would have to tell me all about it when he got home I thought. We had the whole weekend. Of course I had a few things to discuss with him this weekend as well. Scully flashed into my head. I wondered how she was doing with her mom. I knew they were probably having a blast. Maggie was a lot of fun to be around. I toyed with the idea of calling Scully. No, this weekend was for Walter and me. I smiled and taking my jacket off walked back out to the coat closet near the front door. 

By 8:30 I had drunk my Diet Coke, stowed my gear in Walter's bedroom and put my shaving kit in his bathroom. It looked really good to see my kit sitting next to his toiletries. Homey. I loved his new bathroom too. He had a damn whirlpool tub in it. A huge mother it was too. That was the other reason Walter had bought into this apartment. Hell I would have fought like a demon to get this place. No question. I know Walter probably loved soaking in that tub after a day like today. I decided on the spot that when he got home I would draw a nice steaming tub for him to relax in. He could lie back with his bourbon and if I played my cards right I could join him. It was an inspired idea. I was practically vibrating with expectation. 

I exited the bathroom and headed back down to the kitchen to reheat the Thai food. I purposely purchased dishes I knew from experience would warm up well. Leftovers are a Mulder specialty after all. I had decided to set the table in his small dining room. Table for two. Walter had candles on it all ready. I managed to scrounge up some matches. I'd light them just before nine and dim the lights. A nice romantic dinner for my big buddy. God we could both use it. 

I was going to use the microwave but then I thought what the hell - I'd use the oven on low and nuke what wasn't hot enough when he got back. So, with the food in the oven I found my way down into his sunken living room and the mammoth sound system Walter has against the back wall. 

I had left my CDs on top of the rack where he keeps his collection. I pulled out one of my discs from the small stack. *Kettle Whistle* - Jane's Addiction. The CD goes into the Sony Player. It looks a little bereft on the platter all alone - just like me in this huge empty apartment. I need to rock and roll here for a few minutes to banish the last of my loneliness. To make the minutes fly by until my Walter arrives. 

I push the drawer in and the winding noise tells me Mr. Perry Farrell's band is cueing up. I grab the remote and stub the volume up to a decent level. The first strains of the first track, the CDs title song, fill the apartment with their weird and wonderful harmonious discord. 

The food grew hot and so did I. I was dancing around between the kitchen and the sunken living room like a jackass to the song *Whore* when a loud, growling voice interrupted my Farrelesque gyrations. 

"Who the fuck is that, Mulder? And what the hell is he saying?" 

I hadn't, of course, heard his key in the lock. 

Perry was shouting out, *I love them whores,* at the top of his lungs and I was frantically looking for the remote. I spied it on the back of the couch and hastened to grab it, turning off Farrells' howls of *mutherfucker,* in mid squawk. 

*Jane's Addiction,* I wince, embarrassment dripping like the bead of sweat on the end of my nose. 

"Jane's Addiction to what, bad taste?" 

I crack up. Walter comes down from the front door, weariness making his shoulders sag. He drops his briefcase on the couch. He removes his black trench and tosses it over the briefcase. 

"Would you like me to hang that up?" I ask nodding towards the coat. Late October and the trenches were out all ready. It had been unseasonably cool. 

"I'll do it later," he smiles slightly, "you look good wet," he adds taking in my damp hair and the slightly sweat stained front of my t-shirt. I smile back. 

"Would you like a bourbon?" I ask. That makes him raise an eyebrow. 

"I thought I was out." 

"You were until I stopped at National Liquor." 

"Hmph," he grunts, "Psychic Friends Network?" 

"Something like that. So?" 

"Yeah, I'd love a bourbon." 

"All right, why don't you sit down and relax and I'll bring you one." I reply quietly gesturing towards the couch. He nods slowly and I exit to retrieve the bottle and a glass from his wet bar. 

When I returned he's seated on the couch, facing away from me and staring towards the now silent Sony entertainment center. I walk around the couch. I poured the bourbon before I left the bar. I hand him the glass and he loosens his tie before he tips the tumbler to his lips. I watch as he takes the fiery, amber colored fluid into his mouth and swallows. His eyes close. When the first shot has done it's work he places the glass down carefully on the coffee table and glances at the bottle in my hand. 

"Good choice, Mulder. That's first rate hooch. But you can take the bottle away. I think one will do me tonight," he smiles wanly. He looks exhausted, headachy. Hell he looks like shit warmed over. Christ! Warmed over! I almost forgot about the meal. I take the bottle and make a quick exit for the kitchen. 

"I'll be right back. I need to check on the food," I call back over my shoulder. 

When I return Walter is standing by the dining room table taking in the two place settings and the glow of the long candles in their holders. He has a very soft look on his face. The candlelight plays across his glasses. Christ he looks handsome. Like some kind of Medieval Knight home from the wars with the light from a stone castle fireplace playing across his skin. 

He looks over at me. "I'm sorry I was late, Mulder. This is really...I don't know what to say." 

"You don't need to say anything, Walter. Do you want to eat? The food's ready." 

"Sure. Thanks," he nodded, "But let me help you haul it out at least. I don't want to feel like Ozzie and Harriet here." 

I laugh, "I think you're more a Ward anyway, Walter. But, yeah, come on. I can use the help." 

"You'd like shit in pearls, Mulder," he quipped as we headed into the kitchen. 

The food was good. I did ok on the dishes but then like I said - leftovers are a specialty. We had eaten in companionable silence mostly. I did ask him about Spender and was met with a frown. One thing Walter will not do is talk about another agent. Usually. He will on those occasions when the agent's actions impact the X-Files or the Conspiracy. When the actions directly affect Scully and my work. Spender has come under that heading before. Walter does know Jeffrey hates my guts over the issue of his mother disappearance and the Gibson Praise business. He was forthcoming about Spender then. But the jury is still out with him on Spender's possible role in the Conspiracy. I think as soon as I have proof however, we'll do a hell of a lot of talking about old Jerkwad. Oh yeah. 

But Jeff's debacle in Virginia wasn't really any of my business and Walter's frown and "you know I'm not going to discuss what you overheard, Mulder," comment ended that discussion. 

The rest was small talk. I was really waiting for Walter to tell me what happened after his last meeting of the day. I knew he'd get around to Casey's Bar. Eventually he did. 

I had gone to the can and when I came back he was pouring us some coffee from the pot he'd started before the meal. He walked out of the kitchen and brought the mugs back out to the table. 

"Thanks," I said. 

"This is Sumatran. Let me know if you like it," he remarked as he handed me the mug. 

I sipped it. "It's good, smooth. Not too acidic." 

"Yeah, that's why I like it. Easier on the gut. Casey serves it - that's were I found out about it," he replied taking a sip from his own mug.

Bingo. OK, here it comes, I thought. 

"Wanna drink it in the living room?" I suggest. I think this might be a comfy chair or couch conversation. 

"Good idea," he agreed glancing back towards the living room group. 

So, we're sitting on the couch together slugging down our coffee. Walter finally gets to the point. Well I told you once he isn't exactly *Mr. Communicative* didn't I? Especially when it comes to awkward emotional moments that deal with his sexuality. So... 

"Jana Cassidy," he growls out, "Christ, what a cunt." 

I almost choked on my coffee. Well that was fucking direct. I put my mug down on the coffee table. I thought I'd be better off without a mouth full of strangulation for the next few minutes maybe? 

"I take it the meeting didn't go well?" 

"That's the strange thing - it went really well. Budget shit, but painless. We had a few sticking points but by and large it went routinely. 

"So what has you codifying AD Cassidy's anatomy?" 

He shakes his head, "You're not going to believe this, guy." 

"Try me." 

"Ok, but you asked for it." 

I settled back to listen. I had the sneaking suspicion that we were in for an *All About Eve* evening. The proverbial *Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy night* to paraphrase Ms. Bette Davis. 

"Well I thought she hated my living guts, Mulder. After I got done with your OPR hearing and rubbing her nose in the office revamp I figured she'd want my balls on a spit." 

"And she doesn't?" 

"No. As it turns out she just wants my balls. Or maybe I should say she wants my cock and balls." 

"You're shitting me?" 

"I wish I was." 

"She has the hots for you? 

"I sort of got that idea tonight, yeah," he answered drinking the last of his coffee. He sat the mug next to mine on the coffee table and turned to look at me. 

"She was extremely cooperative during that meeting Mulder. I mean uncharacteristically so. I should have smelled a rat then. But I just figured there wasn't really anything to gripe about budgetwise so she had pulled in her claws for the night." 

"So, what..." 

"I'm getting to it, OK?" 

"Sorry, go on." 

"Fine. All right. After the meeting, which ended at 6:30 by the way, she followed me back to my office. The whole way she's going on and on about Kimberly Cook. I'm thinking what the hell is wrong with this woman? Does she covet my executive assistant or what?" 

"Office rumors ride again?" 

"No shit. She was trolling to see how I felt about Kim. As in was I screwing her. What a crock of shit. You know how she is though - very skillful in her questioning." 

"I thought about as subtle as a chainsaw, actually..." 

"Only when she wants to tighten the screws, Mulder. You've never been in an executive level meeting with her. She's like quicksilver and twice as poison." 

"So, what did you say to this gentle probing?" 

"I flat out asked her if she was trying to hire Kimberly away. I mean that was all I could think to say. What was I going to say - "She gives great head? Bull shit." 

"Well does she?" 

"Mulder, get serious..." 

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." 

"Look, I told her if she could offer her more salary and better advancement potential to give it a shot. Hell, Kim isn't tied to my coattails. She has every right to try to climb the fucking ladder." 

"Yeah, but I think Kim would have told her to go take a flying fuck." 

"Probably. But that was beside the point. She should be given the opportunity to tell Jana to go screw." 

"I get your point." 

"Fuckin' A." 

"Listen, you want some more coffee?" I asked him. My mouth was getting a little dry. I would have offered bourbon but I didn't see that as a good idea given his surly man visage. 

"No, I gotta take a piss as it is," he shook his head, "Excuse me," he added automatically as he got up. I went in and filled the coffee mugs anyway while he was gone. I knew he'd dry up too before this was done. I had just put them back on the low coffee table as he came back and sunk down on the couch. Somewhere along the trip he had removed his tie and gun, discarding them. 

So, how did you end up at Casey's?" I asked trying to move the conversation along. 

"Well she said she'd give the *Kimberly issue* some thought. And in the meantime could she buy me a drink in way of an apology. Sort of a blanket apology I guess since she threw in the fucking hearing and all the stonewalling over the basement office renovation." 

"And you went with this madwoman?" 

"Shit, yes. She was buying and I really wanted to hear her eat crow Mulder. It was pretty hard to resist the invitation." 

"I guess..." 

"So, we went down to Casey's. It's close." 

"And you ended up hiding from her in the men's room?" 

"Was it that obvious? Shit." 

I started to chuckle, "The toilet flushing was a bit of a giveaway, Walter." 

"No I mean that I was hiding. Christ I hope she didn't realize I was running away from her." 

"What the fuck did she do?" 

"She was feeling me up, Mulder." 

"Groping you?" 

"Hell yes!" 

"Oh my, I'll have to have a word with our Jana, won't I?" I am really finding it hard not to laugh out loud here. The look on Walter's face is something to behold. The expression is a cross between John Cleese at his most outraged, and Truman Capote having a hissy fit. If Walter wasn't so aggressively butch I'd tell him he'd make a great Dame Edna for Halloween. But I think he'd rip my throat out. 

"If you breath a word of this to anyone, Mulder, I'll put you on VCS consults for the rest of your unnatural life." 

"Forewarned is forearmed," I raise my hands, grinning my surrender. 

"You'll do well to remember that fact," he nods. I notice he is reaching for the coffee now. See, I know my man. 

After a big swig of java he lets the rest come out in a rush. I just watch and listen to the words flow. Walter on a roll is a mesmerizing site. He claims *not* to have the gift of gab. I beg to differ. 

"So anyway, there we are in Casey's. "Let's get a booth, Skinner. I hate sitting at the bar in a skirt" Oh yeah, I bet baby. Those stools make a skirt ride up. But then again a booth is more private and we can sit a hell of a lot more close can't we *Spider Woman*? A nice dark booth. Bourbon. I think she had three of them before things went south. South? No shit. She's practically sitting in my lap telling me how she admired my...forcefulness. She's making little boozy breathings into my ear and batting her eyelashes. She starts going on and on about how she likes it when a man stands up to her. Most don't know how to handle her strength. What a crock of bullshit. I may be queer but I know a come on when I see it - from a woman I mean. I was married for God's sake. So she's telling me how she'd like to get to know me better - I mean the whole nine yards. We'd make a great team, Walter. Damn it. I'd rather *team-up* with the fucking Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch too. Witch? Hell, somebody oughta drop a house on fucking Jana I'll tell you." 

See what I mean? Stream of consciousness and he just lets it all come out if you let him go at it. Even if I wasn't a psychologist I'd find it fascinating. As his lover I find it illuminating if a little sad. He really needs someone to talk to, you know. I'm more than glad to be here to do it. He had stopped to catch his breath however, and take another swig of coffee. Second mug empty, buddy mine. I threw in the obvious question to get him revved up again. 

"So when did she grope ya, big guy." 

"Right under the fucking table. She has very educated hands that woman. Jesus. I'm sitting there ogling her with my mouth open because she's unzipped me for crying out loud. I..." 

"Did you get hard?" 

He hadn't really been looking at me up to that point. Most of this diatribe had taken place at attention. I mean *Marine drill, eyes straight ahead, back stiff and practically present arms sir*, attention. But now he turns slowly and pins my eyes. 

"What if I said yes?" he asked. 

I shrug. How could I complain about his getting hard for a woman under the circumstances. That would be the pot calling the kettle black wouldn't it?" 

"I wouldn't be surprised. As you said - you were married, Walter. You function with woman. You must get aroused by them in that case. I'm not jealous or offended over it if that's what's worrying you." 

"It was a surprise, that's all, Mulder. I mean she's such a bitch. The last person I would expect to give me a woody. Christ on a crutch. 

"Well, shit happens. I get hard for Scully sometimes," I added sympathetically. I might as well take the opportunity to lay the groundwork on that little item too I thought as he blinked at me. 

"Really? Well I can understand that with her. But I mean, Jana Cassidy?" 

"Whatever, Walter." 

"It was damned awkward." 

"I can imagine. Did you tell her you weren't that kind of boy?" 

"I told her to get her hand the hell out of my pants." 

"Did she get pissy about it?" 

"No, she just zipped me up, giggled, and asked if I wanted to go back to her place and continue the conversation. That Christ-awful giggle froze my blood let me tell you. I didn't have to worry about the friggin' jones anymore either. Shit - my nuts headed north." 

"I bet that's when you hid in the can." 

"No shit. I had to have a couple of minutes to think. I sure as hell didn't want to go back to her penthouse. She lives all the way the fuck in Annapolis anyway. But I had to think of an inoffensive way to make an excuse." 

"After telling her to get the hell out your pants?" 

"I didn't use those words, Mulder. Cut me some slack." 

"Fine. What did you do then?" 

"I told her I was expecting company this evening and really had to get home. But I did offer to drive her home as a courtesy. Thank God she turned me down." 

I nodded. Well...point for Walter. At least he was as honest as he could be considering the company was yours truly. 

"So you were off the hook." I stated for the record. 

"Not quite." I hear an alarm bell going off here. Something is burning in my gut and it isn't the spicy Thai food we had for dinner. 

"No?" 

"No. We went outside. I was trying to hail her a cab when she let's the last bomb drop." 

"Which was?" 

"Well you know the Directors Halloween Ball is next weekend?" 

Yeah, shit. It sure was next weekend. Scully and I were going. I hate those things but she sees them as political opportunities and enjoys going. I like the free food and the chance to see her decked out to the nines. But, Scully also sees those Bureau affairs as a way to stick it to all the assholes who come up to her and call her Ms. Spooky and similar utter shit. She takes a perverse pleasure in putting herself in that situation so she can flame the unlikely son of a bitch, male or female, who insults either one of us. I like to just lean against the wall and watch her work a room. She has the most engaging smile. So approachable is my Dana. But watch out turkey, that smile has sharp, pointy teeth. So, we would be there next Saturday. Me in my tailored tux with condescending smile pasted on, and Scully in strapless black with her acid wit scalpel ready for dissecting morons. 

"Don't tell me?" 

"Yeah, I'm her date." 

"Oh fuck, Walter how did you get yourself into that one?" I groan. I knew it was coming. Oh for God's sake. 

"Come on, Mulder, I couldn't say no. She backed me into a fucking corner. If I'd said no it would have been a bad political move. I..." 

"Politically incorrect? After what she did to you earlier? Cut *me* some slack Walter. You're just encouraging the rotten wench. You should have told her to take a hike and then pushed her in front of the fucking cab when it pulled up." 

"You said you wouldn't be jealous," he replied quietly. Oh bloody marvelous. Now he's going to pout. I thought that was my department. I sigh. 

"I'm not jealous. I just don't want to see you have to go through this whole hassle. I mean..." 

"What the fuck do you expect? We're in the fucking closet. It's been this way for me for years, baby. It's why I haven't let myself even...why I haven't gotten close to anyone. It's just too God damned painful. Fffuck it." he stutters out, slamming his fist down on the couch arm. Before I can stop him he gets up and heads out of the sunken living room. 

"Excuse me, I have to take another piss," he barks, stalking off. I just sit there, temporarily stunned. Well this evening is going to hell in a hand cart. Lord God I hope our discussion regarding Scully goes better than this mess. If we ever get to that discussion. At this rate, I'll be sleeping on the couch at the very least - back on my own couch under the worst case scenario. Piss on it indeed. I decide to go after him. I have to do something to salvage the situation. 

The bathroom door is shut. I try the knob. It's locked? He's locked himself in the bathroom? Oh for heavens sake. I rap on the door, "Walter?" 

No answer. I pound. 

"What?" 

"Come on man, open the door" 

"Leave me alone Mulder." 

"Walter if you don't open this door I'm going to kick it in." 

"Fuck you. You don't have the balls." 

That did it. He's not the only butch bastard in this apartment. 

"Have it your way," I hiss. I step back almost to the opposite wall, aim and place my kick directly at the knob and lock. The door crashes open with a satisfying wood shattering smack. Walter had been sitting on the edge of the whirlpool, his head in his hands it looked like. But his heads up now, and his eyes are popping wide open. 

"Federal Agent, get your fucking hands up!" I yell out in my best G-man voice. 

And he does. I have to laugh. But he's laughing too. There are tears in his eyes but I know they aren't from the laughter. They were there when he looked up. But now I'm making him laugh. Thank God. Maybe we can salvage this thing. 

"Now what was that comment about my balls?" I mock growl at him. 

"You're not going to get an argument," he chokes shaking his head in amazed amusement. 

"I should hope not." 

"But look at my damn door. Mulder, the landlord is gonna crucify me." 

I walk over in front of him and take his raised hands in mine, pulling him up, "Just tell him to kiss your ass Walter. You are the AD after all." I draw him close and kiss him full on the lips. Oh yeah. He's The Man all right. 

He moves in against me eagerly and he's swallowing me. I love this about Walter. He's a quick study. I can still remember that first tentative kiss in Baton Rouge. God damn. The big guy gets it on good. No tentativeness now. No sir. 

The heat between us is palpable. He's igniting me and I'm willing tinder under his large, rough, warm hands. When we finally come up for air I manage to croak out a suggestion. 

"Let's go to bed, Walter." 

His whole face shines with a smile of relief and pleasure. 

"Yeah," he nods and I take his hand as we walk down the short hall to his bedroom. 

Walter turns on a single lamp. We're bathed in it's delicate mellow glow. It doesn't take either one of us long to get naked. I throw my socks and they land on the night stand, covering my Smith and Wesson and his Glock where they lie side by side. We're entwined on the King sized bed before I've barely gotten my t-shirt off. 

Touching, stroking, tasting, touching some more. Both of us are hard as rocks and I love the feel of him against me as we grind against each others sweating flesh. His cock feels like a fucking steel beam. Walter's huge and every time I get a look at that weapon I almost explode. I mean Jesus - it's a work of art. 

"Walter..." I moan his name. He's working me all over now with his mouth and hands. He works his way, panting, back up to my face and we suck on each other for a second. Then he pulls back and looks at me. 

"Do you want me to blow you?" he asks. Well he must have been studying up. How nice. I guess our time apart wasn't wasted was it? 

"Oh yeah," I smile wide. I'm not going to come back with a smart wisecrack here folks. No way Mr. Hoover. 

"OK. Just tell me if you like it. I...well you know..." he shrugs slightly. Right. He hasn't done this before. Like I'm gonna care? At this point all he'd have to do is kiss it and I'm gonna shoot. It'll be a job for me to hold back. 

"Just do it, lover. I'm gonna love it. Don't worry." 

He grins and goes down with gusto. Lord it is good too. I try to hold back, to keep it up. I won't throw myself into him too hard anyway because I know I'll gag him if I do. As it is he does have a little trouble with the technique. But what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm and enough natural talent. After a very short time he's relaxing and I'm able to thrust harder. He reduces me to groans before I even realize I'm making sounds. 

"Oh God," I hiss between clenched teeth. He's rimming me and I can't believe now that he's never done this before. I'm leaking and he's sucking it in. Oh Jesus. 

"Like it?" he whispers around the head of my cock. His breath tickles and it's puffing ecstasy. 

"Fuck," is all I can moan. I feel him smile around me. He swallows me again and that's all folks. I buck up one last time, hard. Oh hell, he's not going to be able to...I grab his head. I try to blurt out a warning but it's too late. I'm shooting cum like a rocket. He's choking on it. Shit. I knew he wasn't ready for me. 

"Oh man," I moan. I can't stop my hips from moving either. I'm on autopilot. Poor Walter. Talk about a baptism under fire here. 

I can hear him sputtering. He's let go of me but it's ok because my body is taking care of things on it's own now. I feel his fist close over me, God Bless him. Walter doesn't like to leave a job unfinished, no way. 

I figure he can use a little ego boost here. I know he's going to be embarrassed about gagging. 

"Oh Christ...s'gggood," I manage to grunt out. And I'm not lying in the least. 

He wrings me out until I know there can't be a drop left in my nuts. I fall back down flat and he shifts up next to me again. 

"You ok?" I ask wiping the cum off his chin. 

"I guess I need to practice a little." he replies, self-consciously. He bends over the edge of the bed and snags his BVDs to use as a fuckrag. 

"Try a beer bottle. That's the way I learned." 

"Yeah, I'll make sure I shake it up too," he chuckles. I lay back and shut my eyes for a moment while he trails a finger over my chest and stomach. I open them again when he starts sucking on my nipples. 

"Hey, what about your turn?" I ask pushing him back a little. He blinks myopically down at me. Walter without his glasses is somewhat at a disadvantage. 

"I can wait a while, man. It's just that, well I haven't touched you like this, hell, since Baton Rouge. I wanted...I wanted to give you back some of what you gave me that night. I can't tell you how much this means to me, Mulder." he replied quietly. 

Oh sweet Jesus. And you wonder why my heart belongs to this man? I tell you, I'm the luckiest fucker in the whole wide weird world to have Walter Skinner and Dana Scully at my side. It's a freaking miracle either one of them even entertains the thought that I'm worthy enough to lick their boots. Truly. 

"Walter, I want you to fuck me," I whisper touching his face. There. And I meant it too. I wanted his cock. I needed to feel him in me. To feel that connection with him now. I loved him and this was the final act I could offer to prove it. To let him possess me and watch my face when he did. I know he wanted it too really, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not tonight. 

"Oh, man...I...don't..." 

I reached down and caressed his hard length, "Walter you have to realize I want this thing in me. God damn it, you're torturing me here." I chuckle. 

"Fuck," he shakes his head and laughs again, "What can I say when you put it that way?" 

"Now you're talking. You got any lube?" 

"Yeah, hang on," he nods getting off the bed quickly. See. I knew he'd given this some thought. Of course maybe he's just using it to fist himself but...I don't exactly think so. 

He's back double time with the Astroglide. 

"Do you want me to use a rubber?" he asks. 

"Not unless you really want to. You know we're clean. I don't have a preference there, big man. I use one if I want to keep it up longer, though. So, whatever..." 

"Mulder I have to tell you something," he replied, suppressing a grin. 

"What?" 

"I can keep it up all night if I concentrate." 

Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven. 

"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow and glance down at his straining erection. 

"Oh yeah, baby. At my age one a night might have to last so..." 

"Holy boner, Batman." 

He cracks up as he moves back onto the bed and lies next to me. I can tell he's waiting for me to make the next move. I take the Astroglide out of his hands and motion for him to sit up. I sit up too and face him. 

"All right. Let's test that claim, Mr. AD. Hold still." I advise staring him in the eyes. He lets his body relax and he stays stock still. It's very eerie. I'm not sure he's even breathing. Shit. Special Forces training I think. You have to stay quiet and immobile for long periods in the jungle. Remind me never to go camping or hunting with Walter. 

I uncap the lube and squeeze some out into my hands. I warm it and then I take his cock. I sit there lubing him up with long, delicate strokes. The whole time I never stop looking in his eyes. I can see the awareness there, the arousal builds and builds. But he isn't coming. Ok. So the guy does have incredible control. God damn. I let go of his dick and concede defeat. 

"Hell, Walter. Why the fuck didn't you mention that little trick in Baton Rouge?" 

"You didn't ask me," he laughs and his whole body comes back to animation. 

We're both laughing together again and I hug him close. I smear lube all over his back. 

"Sorry man," I end up wiping my hands and his back with his BVDs as well. 

"So how do you want this Mulder?" he whispers once the shaking from the laughter stops. 

"I'd like to see your face Walter." 

He studies my face for a moment. Even so I almost miss the almost imperceptible nod of his head. 

"Show me," he replied, his voice rough with passion. 

I lie back flat and motion for him. The embrace is so unbelievable I start to tremble. I can't help it. I'm going into sensory overload here. We're skin to skin, total body contact from head to toe. Walter's powerful, muscled body moves over me, loving me, sending me to some other land. Or maybe I really am dying and on my way to heaven. My lips and tongue trace a pattern over his ear. 

"I love you," I whisper. 

"Oh God," he moans. I lift my knees up and spread my legs for him. He settles in nice and comfy and raises up on his elbows a little to grab the Astroglide. Most of the lube has come off his cock and gone onto me so he shifts, to sit up, and lube himself again with that much heralded concentration. 

"Walter?" 

"Yeah, baby?" 

"It's been a while, uh..." No kidding. He's going to split me in two if he rams that sucker in without some preparation. 

He smiles at me and moves closer. Three fingers are in before I even have to worry about it. God oh God. It has been too long. This feels so good, so right. I can't give voice to my thoughts at all in that moment. I look up into Walter's face and I know instantly that wanting this was the right decision and seeing his face a sublime vision and privilege. He angles up to brush my prostate and I'm crying to God out loud then. He must have remembered what I did to him in Baton Rouge because now he's letting his large fingers pump in and out of me and I'm writhing under his touch. 

"Uhhhh, Walter! Please...I want your cock. Do me, you fucker..." I'm moaning, twitching, begging for his dick shamelessly now. I don't care what he thinks about it because I'm beyond caring. I just want him to fuck me up the ass. 

"Oh Jesus, baby, " he croons. I know he's at a loss as to what to do with me. I have just enough mind left to lift my legs up and position them on his shoulders. I feel him gasping as he sinks into me. His breath is coming faster because I know he's trying really hard not to hurt me. It does hurt. But I'm surprised and grateful at how short the pain lasts and how quick I feel the ecstasy of that thick cock of his filling me. He grunts one last deep sigh and leans against my ass. His balls are touching my left butt cheek. I think he got a little off target. We both savor the feeling of being connected for a few seconds. Walter's eyes are shut. 

"Shift over and get comfortable, lover," I whisper touching his chest. He opens his eyes and looks into mine. I want to die with the sweetness of that gaze. When he does shift I groan loudly. It's too fucking good. 

"Are you ok?" he grates out quickly. 

"Hell yes. Believe me I'm not groaning from pain." 

"You feel wonderful," he leans down and caresses my cock. It's hard again and I have to shut my eyes. 

"Fuck me, Walter," I just manage to hiss out. He growls incoherently and taking either side of my hips in his hands he pulls out and thrusts slowly back in. That's it - I'm gone. My eyes fly open and I can't believe the sound that comes out of me. It doesn't even sound human. Somewhere at the end of the animal howl I think the word *harder* tagged along. But I wasn't sure. It mostly sounded so primitive my brain couldn't really process it. Walter's response is in kind. His primitive man has taken over big time. He begins to piston into me without thought, pounding against me. He has a few words sprinkled amongst the caveman grunting. Mostly *fuck* but he does manage to croak out *love you* once. 

I'm not even sure he knows where he is anymore and I don't care because I'm over the rainbow as well. He's bending over close and with each thrust of his hips he's bumping and rubbing my swollen cock. I know dimly that I won't even need a fist to get off. Just the continuous friction of his hard washboard stomach is going to make me blow up like a land mine. 

We're relatively silent now. Just gasping, some grunting and lots of slapping flesh. I can sense him tensing through his cock. He was right though. He's kept it up for a long time. Long enough for me to get harder and come myself when he finally angles up correctly and slams into my prostate. And I come all right, hard. Like a jackhammer. My muscles are clamping down on Walter's driving cock too and I'm screaming his name as I squirt milky fluid all over his stomach. 

"Oh God, baby, that's it, that feels so Goddamned...oh fuck," he blurts out. He looks into my face and suddenly he's screaming too but no sound's coming out. His face is totally transformed, beautiful, like a sculpture of a primitive God. An idol to be worshipped. I can see him, feel him shatter. He explodes into me. The force of his orgasm sending him thrusting deep. The cum backflows out because he's shooting so violently. I have to catch him when he collapses on top of me, half senseless. Both of us are sweating profusely and gasping like marathon runners. 

"I love you," he whispers as I cradle him between my legs. 

xXx 

"You still with me Walter?" I ask as I trail a hand over the knee that sticks up out of the water. I'm leaning back against my human hot tub mattress as he rests his satiated form behind me. 

"Hmmm? Oh. Definitely," he mumbles with a gruff chuckle. 

"Isn't this better than a shower?" 

"Unquestionably," he grunts rubbing his leg along mine. I can feel his cock under me. It's limp but just it's presence feels fabulous. 

After the loving both of us lay stunned but Walter somehow found the energy to pull out and roll off me and onto his back so that I could finally catch my breath. The loss of his flesh from inside me was painful both physically and emotionally. I never wanted to let him go. But both pains faded quickly when he drew me close and kissed my forehead. The bed was a total wreck. Sweat, cum, Astroglide and wrinkled cotton do not a comfortable bower make. A shower was in order before bed. And one of us would have to find the oomph to change the sheets. Then I remembered my earlier idea regarding bourbon and his hot tub. We both did find the energy to make it as far as the bathroom. And my legs did carry me out to and back from the bar, booze bottle and two tumblers in hand. 

Now The Boss and I were nestled in steaming hot tub luxury, bourbons on the wide edge, and Walter was acting as a pillow as I lay back into his broad, muscular chest. 

"Wanna go again?" he chuckles as he reaches for the bourbon. I can feel him taking a sip. 

"Can you get it up?" 

"Fuck no." 

"Well then." 

He purrs another rumbling laugh and it feels like a huge jungle cat, a Bengal tiger, is lying behind my naked ass. I feel him set the bourbon down. One large hand snakes around my stomach, travels lower. Teasing, touching, knowing. 

"My getting hard again doesn't enter into it," he whispers into my ear as he hefts my cock up in his hand. 

"Oh Lord God and all the angels in heaven." I breath out in a rush. 

"Some of my agents think I'm more Devil then God," he whispers again. His breath plays against my face. I stretch my head back, arching my neck along his neck and head until I'm taunt against him. I close my eyes. I'm trembling once more. 

"They're wrong," I gasp as he starts to fist me. I'm hard after two strokes of his hot, wet hand. 

"Are you sure, agent?" 

"Sure? Hell yes. And why should I care?" 

"You should care about your soul, boy," he continues to breath against the side of my neck. I feel like a cello or base and his fingers are plucking my strings. 

"My soul?" A nebulous, ephemeral, doubtful subject in my mind. 

"Whether you care if you're damned or not...Fox," he licks my neck along the jugular and then he bites me, not hard, but hard enough to make me hiss. I groan as he sucks over where the blood pounds so close to the surface. I bet if he tried he could taste it right through my flesh just by sucking. 

"If this is damnation, Walter, then let me burn in hell," I moan. He removes his mouth from my skin so that he can speak. And it's a command. My blood boils in my arteries, flowing like molten lava into my brain as he grinds out the words. 

"Then burn." 

Burn? I detonated. My hoarse, guttural shout rents the air. I geyser cum up out of the water like fucking Moby Dick coming to the oceans surface to breath. My hips thrust up violently and I'm arching my back so hard I feel like I could snap my spine. He keeps cranking me and water is splashing out of the hot tub all over the floor around us from my thrashing. 

"Oh yeah, baby," he purrs over and over. "Oh yeah." 

xXx 

I raise one gummy eyelid and peer cautiously around. I have no idea what woke me up. It certainly wasn't the alarm. I am aware enough to know this is Saturday morning. 

It could have been Walter. He's lying next to me, on his back, arms splayed out, mouth open, snoring like a buzz saw. Jesus. The morning after. Well, sometimes your partner isn't a very pretty sight. I imagine I don't look any better. I know my hair is going in a million different directions and I can tell from the taste that I have a mammoth case of morning mouth. My bladder is bursting as well. I slide over to the edge of the bed and get up quietly, padding off towards Walter's bathroom. 

The sheets were nice and clean, cool and crisp for sliding smoothly off the bed. I ended up changing them last night. I was the first back into the bedroom because Walter had wanted to wipe up the bathroom floor. When I went back to his room and saw the sheets I practically ran to the linen closet. There had been some blood. Well it had been a while for me. I know if Walter had seen it though he would have freaked out. I stripped the bed down and balled up the evidence, throwing it into his laundry basket. I squashed the bundle down as far as I could and hoped he wouldn't notice anything untoward on laundry day. 

The aforementioned bathroom is spotless this morning. I'm standing with my hand on the wall in back of his toilet, my other hand around myself watering the mule. I'm a little sore. At both ends. Like I said - it's been a while. My undercover man is hung like a horse after all. I think next time we'll work a little longer on the foreplay maybe. But I'm not complaining. I feel at peace and very, very happy. It's not exactly a novel feeling. Think Scully and you'll know why. But I haven't had this feeling with a man in eons. So, I won't argue with the sentiment at all. 

I wash up a little, grab some mouthwash, spit and rinse. Then it's back to snuggle up for a while next to my big bed warmer. 

When I get back to the bedroom, Walter is waking up a little himself. He's squinting at me from under the covers. When he's finally able to focus on me he holds the covers up and I walk forward and slide back under them. We move close and lie face to face. 

"I bet you're sorry you don't wear glasses, Mulder," he chuckles, running a hand over his jaw and up along the fringe of hair that circles his head. 

I touch his hip under the covers and then run my hand down to cup his balls. I trail my hand down his cock, running a finger around the tip when I get to the end. 

"There's a lot to be said for being in the country of the blind, Walter. Other senses, like touch, become highly amplified." 

"And smell," he laughs, reaching down to take my hand from between his legs. He kisses my palm and shakes his head. He must be sore too - or maybe just a bit tired yet. In any event, nookie is not in the cards. I don't care. Just lying here with Walter is more than enough for me this morning. 

"Are you inferring I smell this morning?" I mock frown into his eyes. 

"You smell like Scope mouthwash, babe." he yawns, "And I can smell coffee too." 

My sinuses are never the best in the morning. I'd missed the coffee perking. 

"When the hell did you set up the coffee maker?" 

"After I swabbed out the bathroom last night. It's that Sumatran. It should be ready by now." 

Christ. He has more stamina then I thought. After the workout we had last night I'm still surprised either one of us was able to stand and walk much less change the sheets, clean up the can and set *Mr. Coffee* on automatic. I guess our exercise regimens have been successful. But then again in our line of work if you don't stay in shape you can get dead. 

"Do you want a cup now?" 

"In a little while. Do you mind if we just...if we stay here for a while?" he whispers, shy again. Oh my Mr. Mercurial. It's cute. I guess he thinks I'm going to jump up and be on my way? Fat chance. I may be hyper a lot of the time but I covet my post coital cuddling. 

"I'd like that, Walter," I smile. I can tell he wants me to hold him so I lay down flat. He shifts up and lays his head on my chest. I wonder how come he's not up for a piss. 

"Hey, don't you need to use the..." 

"I woke up earlier. I'm on empty. Do you know you look about sixteen when you're asleep." 

"Does that appeal? They'll be calling you *Chicken Hawk* next if you're not careful." 

"I guess that's better than "Old Man," he chuckles. 

"I don't think that's a danger after last night, Mr. Everhard," I quip. 

He laughs but then I can feel him frowning slightly against my pectoral muscle. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry about Jana, man. I...I'll let her down easy next weekend, somehow. I mean it." he mumbles against my chest hair. 

"Don't angst over it, Walter. If nothing else I'll send Scully after her. She's coming with me to that shindig." 

I can feel his rumbling laughter again, "Shit, yeah. I'd pay to see that cat fight." 

"Well, I'll see what I can do. I'll bring the Nine Lives and we'll see what transpires." 

"Deal," he yawns against my nipple. 

"Why don't you catch some more Zs, Main Man?" I suggest. 

"I could use them." 

"Well, we don't have any special plans do we?" 

"Nope. I need to do some grocery shopping, errands, shit like that but..." 

"Then, sweet dreams big guy." 

He slept till noon. I got up around 9, threw on my boxer briefs and t-shirt, and had some coffee. I had to catch, amongst other cartoons, Johnny Quest. They were continuing the *Mud Men* adventure. Jesus Race Bannon's a hunk. No wonder I like Walter. Benton Quest was a cretin if he didn't take advantage of what his kid's guardian angel had to offer there. Clueless lab boy I guess. 

Walter waltzed out at noon - naked as a Jaybird. Lord have mercy. I will definitely have to stay over in nosebleed heaven more often. At this height neighbors seeing in the window is obviously not an issue. Even Race can't hold my attention when Walter's hard naked ass is moving in my vicinity. 

"Coffee's still hot," I pant out as he crosses into the kitchen. 

"Thanks," he replied. 

He comes back out carrying his mug and sits down at the end of the couch. 

"Ah, Race Bannon," he chuckles, "Why did I think you probably watched this show?" 

I chuckle and take another sip of my Sumatran. 

"Yeah, well I see you're parading your assets for me this morning. Afraid of the competition?" I joke gesturing my head towards the TV screen. 

"What do you think?" he grunts, running a hand down his chest and stomach. Jesus. OK. So this guy has a little more confidence then I thought. But I know it's probably new bravado. But any man who can make me scream like a banshee would have to get some egoboo out of it. It's nice to see. 

"I think your a cockteaser, Mr. Assistant Director." 

"Tease me, please me," he retorts. 

"Fuck you, Wally. Listen, do you want some breakfast? I'm wasting away here." 

"Brunch." 

"Whatever Mr. Universe. I gotta nosh or I'll die." 

He fixed me breakfast. I almost let him do if for me in the nude. But after careful consideration I changed my mind and he donned his robe. Two words - grease splatters. Enough said, Julia Childe.

And Walter is an excellent cook. Ham, cheese and vegetable omelets done to fluffy perfection. Orange juice, skim milk (oh yeah, we have to watch our figure), and more coffee. Well, I was full to bursting. Energy was flowing back into every sinew. I feel *more human than human* I thought. White Zombie. Oh, song title! And as soon as I thought it a gleeful idea popped right into my wicked little mind. Plans for tonight. Oh yeah. I saw a road trip in our future for after dark. Something with a little rock and roll in it I think. Electric, eclectic. Yup, clubbing. As in a boys night out at the dance club. I filed the thought away for later. If the opportunity presented itself I'd bring up an evening out with my prospective dance partner. We shall see. 

Of course I still had to discuss Scully. That possibility was proving to be a painful proposition. I just didn't know how to come around to it now. I mean things were going so well. I sighed. I would have to give it some serious consideration before long. Maybe tomorrow. God, I am such a chickenshit sometimes. 

"What's wrong?" Walter asked noticing my less than blissful look as I toyed with the last piece of my omelet, "if you're still worried about my getting hard for the *Iron Maiden* I can't tell you enough how..." 

Oh no. I hope I'm not going to hear this song repeated over and over like a broken record this weekend. I can certainly see that Walter hasn't quite conquered his insecurities despite his earlier body beautiful boasting. Well, have any of us really? I spear the last piece of egg and pop it into my mouth ruminating on my earlier Scully procrastination for a moment while he drones on about *Joltin' Jana*. 

OK. I guess this is a good enough opportunity. I gotta do something to get him past this bump in the road. His fear of bisexuality, or whatever the fuck is running through his head. Obviously he feels that if I think he might be attracted to women I'll jump the *Good Ship Lollipop* here or something. 

Well, it's high time I explain the way of my world I guess. It's going to be now or never. I take a deep breath. 

"Walter?" 

He stops mid sentence, "What?" 

"I'm going to say this once and once only. I could care less about your getting hard for Jana Cassidy. Case closed." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes. Look, can we go sit down on the couch. We...I do need to talk about something in connection with this subject, however." 

I can see the color rising in his face. Oh shit. Please do not panic, I think. I lay a hand over his. 

"It's ok, Walter. It has nothing to do with the way I feel for you," I assure him - and that's perfectly true. He swallows hard and gets up wordlessly, heading for the couch. I follow and sit next to him. I take his hand and massage his fingers. God he has large hands. Mine are long and thin but his are just big. Wide. I love them. 

"What is it?" he asks quietly. 

"First of all, I love you, Walter. It's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you. Not now and not ever. Do you trust me?" 

"What do you think?" he asks. His eyes are like too obsidian jewels, black instead of brown at that moment as his emotions war across them. They glint behind his specs as if they're glowing with a dark fire. 

"I need to hear you say it, Walter." I can't have any doubt. I'm not as self confident either you see. In fact I'm a fucking bundle of neurosis, no question. Walter does not corner the market on lacking self confidence. No sir. 

"I trust you, Mulder." 

"All right. Listen to me and don't interrupt for a minute here. This is going to be hard for me, for us both I think. So I need to get it out, ok?" 

"Go for it," he sighs, and I do. 

"Walter, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know you appreciate honesty and directness. Scully and I are lovers." 

I think he stopped breathing. His hand falls out of mine and slaps into his lap, lifeless. Color drains out of his face. 

"You...you're sleeping with Scully?" he just manages to choke out. 

"Let me get you some more coffee..." 

"Fuck that...don't you dare leave it like that...what the fuck...Scully? Mulder...Christ..." He's reddening. 

"Walter, shut up." I spit out. He stops instantly. I can see him breathing now for sure. He's breathing hard, fighting for control. Control wins out. 

"All right. I'm sorry. I...I want to hear about it. How long has this been going on?" he asks. Always the AD. Let's get the facts on the table here, agent. 

"A while. Since before her cancer." I shrug, "Walter, I'm not gay. I'm bisexual. I love Dana Scully with all my heart and soul. Just like I love you. Do you hear me, Walter? I love you both more than life itself." 

He's looking at me, stunned. 

"I guess I know why you could care less about Cassidy," he shakes his head and turns away from me. 

I reach over to turn his head back but he flinches away. 

"Please..." is all I have time to say. 

"Mulder, can I ask you to leave?" 

"Walter..." 

'No, look. I...I just have to think this out, ok? It's all right. I...I just need some time alone." 

"I don't want to leave you alone, Walter. Not like this. Not now." I whisper. Fear grips my belly. I don't know what he'll do. I have visions of him hurting himself. 

"Mulder I'm not going to eat a bullet if that's what you're thinking. Believe me I've had more opportunities over the years to suck on my gun then to suck cock. So you can put that idea out of your head." 

My hands are shaking, "Walter, please don't ask me to leave, I'm...I'm begging you." 

"All right I won't," he grunts. Then he gets up and leaves the sunken living room. I can't move. I'm in shock. Impotent and paralyzed with sorrow. Walter isn't gone long. When he returns he's dressed in jeans, work boots and a soft, gray LL Bean sweater. He's still unshaved. His gun is on his belt. He has his keys in one hand and his cell phone in the other. 

"Where are you going?" I ask stupidly. 

"Out. Since you won't leave I will. I'm taking the Corvette. Driving helps me to think. Stay here if you like. I'll...I will come back." he crosses with finality to the coat closet and pulls out a jean jacket. The cell phone goes in the pocket. 

I take in the light jacket. He'll freeze if he puts the rag top down I think. 

"Wwwalter," I stutter, "The forecast said cold and...." 

Before I can get out the rest of the sentence his apartment door shuts behind him. Hot tears begin to course a trail down my cheeks. I fumble for my cell phone where I left it on the coffee table last night. I flip it open and hit the speed dial. I find it in me to pray that my call is answered. 

"Scully," the voice of my angel comes across the distance in answer to my prayers. 

"Scully..." I croak out. 

"Mulder? What's wrong?" she blurts out in alarm. 

"We...we need to talk." I sigh into the phone. 

xXx 

"Mulder, I'm sure he'll come back," Scully is trying to reassure me over the miles. 

She was instantly there for me when I explained what happened. It must have been awkward to talk because her mother was there but she told her it was Bureau business and went in the bedroom. I didn't want to keep her on long though. Mostly I just needed to hear her voice. 

"I just feel like I fucked the whole thing up." 

"Well, it was a hard subject to deal with, Mulder. Maybe...maybe I should have been there when..." 

"Uh, that probably wouldn't have been a good idea," I winced. 

"Well, so now what?" she asked. I could almost hear the shrug over the phone. We'd pretty much talked it all out. 

"I guess I sit and wait." 

"As good an idea as any..." she agreed. 

"But Scully?" 

"Yes?" 

"Never mind." 

"No, come on, Mulder. What?" 

"Could you maybe come back here tonight?" 

"Hell no." 

"See, I told you never mind." 

"Listen, Mulder. My mother and I are attending a concert tonight. Vivaldi. We're both looking forward to it." 

"No problem, forget I mentioned it." I tell her. I lay in just enough of a whine into my voice that she's starting to squirm. She is still a softy for the hurt puppy dog whine every once in a while. I'm hoping this is one of those times. 

"Mulder," she whines back. But I can tell I'm hooking her. I set the hook. 

"When he comes back /If he comes back?/ I'm taking him to *The Safehouse*." I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line. Land that fish, Mulder. 

"The Safehouse?" 

"Yep. We're putting on our dancing shoes tonight, Scully." 

"Mulder you haven't taken *me* to The Safehouse in a hundred years." Bingo. 

The Safehouse is one of the premiere dance clubs in DC. The fact that it just happens to be a gay club is just a lucky coincidence. It also really is a safe haven, and very discreet establishment. The place has a predominantly male clientele but women aren't absent. Scully loves it there because there is no pressure to see or be seen, no men drooling all over her (women sometimes, but they're intelligent and or polite enough to take no for an answer), and the music is loud, hot and eminently danceable. My Scully really likes to shake her booty. Oh yes sir. I have trouble keeping up with some of her moves on the dance floor. We go to the club when we have time. And we haven't had time in...well you know all about that. I told you earlier. 

At any rate, I know she'd want to go the minute I mentioned it. So I just kept up the temptation and wait for the clockwork gears in her head to turn. 

"I know darlin'. That's why I'm extending the invitation. You said you should have been here. Be with us now. Come with us, Dana. Show Walter you..." 

"I said *maybe* I should have been there." 

"Semantics, Dana." 

"Oh shut up. And I can just see me out on the dance floor with Walter Skinner," she laughs. 

"Come on, I'll dance with both of you. You know how it is there, Scully. Everyone is squashed together so closely you're dancing with six other people anyway whether you want to or not." 

"Well you have a point there." 

"All right. So?" 

I hold my breath. Kiss or kill the idea time. 

"Let me call you back, Mulder." Click. 

Victory!! Now all I have to do is wait and hope she calls back before Walter comes home. I tab the mute button off the TV remote and continue to watch *Killer Clowns from Outer Space* on Showtime. 

Scully calls back before the balloon dog is chasing the heroes. 

"You are one lucky bucky, Mulder." 

I laugh. 

"Right after I hung up with you my mother got a call from her date for tonight." 

"You mean a man called your mom for a date?" 

"No - a woman. Of course, a guy. Well I guess you could refer to him as such." she sighs. 

"Well who was it?" I frown into the phone. 

"John Byers" 

I just manage to catch the phone before it hits the carpet. 

"This is a joke, right?" I'm laughing like hell into the cell. 

"I wish. Unfortunately, no." 

"Well, how did John Byers...I mean Byers and your mother? Holy *Revenge of the Nerds*, Catwoman." 

My God. John *I buy my suits at Sears* Byers? Not to mention the fact that the bearded LGM is just a tad younger than Mrs. Scully. Maybe the guy does have more balls then we're giving him credit for. Maggie Scully is nothing to sneeze at in the attractiveness department. In fact, she's gorgeous, a wonderful human being in a beautiful package. 

"Evidently, *Robin the Boy Wonder*, he met her at some gallery opening a couple of weeks ago. He just joined this arts group my mother belongs too. At any rate, I guess he's been pining for her and finally got up the guts to call her." 

"But I thought she wanted to go to the concert." 

"Yeah, well that's an X-File there too Mulder. He has tickets." 

I'm snorting snot so hard now I can hardly talk into the phone. 

"It's not funny, Mulder," she's trying hard not to laugh but failing miserably. 

"You should be thankful Frohike isn't into the arts scene, Scully. You really should be." 

"Mulder - get bent." 

"Come on, you know that was the first thing you thought." 

"All right, yeah. I'm thankful for small favors. Besides, Melvin likes them younger anyway." 

"And petite, and red headed." 

"Let's not go there, Mulder. If you do I won't be coming *there*, my sweet." 

"Ok, ok. So it's a date then?" 

"For everyone it would seem." 

"Can we pick you up at your place, let's say around 10 PM tonight?" 

"Yeah, I'll be there. But, Mulder, if this goes South - call me please. I don't want to be sitting in my apartment wondering what the hell happened to the two of you, OK?" 

"No problem beautiful. I'll call," 

"Good, I'll see you at ten." 

I hung up and headed up to shower, shave and dress at last. I wanted to look at least half way presentable when Walter made his second appearance of the day. 

xXx 

Tom Servo, Crow T. Robot and Mike Nelson had just taken their respective seats in the *Satellite of Love's* movie theater on MST3K when I heard Walter's key in the lock. I put the TV remote on mute and stood up to face the door. 

He walked in silently and hung his coat up in the closet. When he turned towards me his face was unreadable. I know mine wasn't. I was beyond trying to cover up my anguish. 

"Sit down, this isn't a dress parade," he sighed coming down towards me, his cell phone in his hand. I sat back down on the couch like someone playing musical chairs and the last chair was right under my ass. 

He came into the sunken living area and, tossing his cell phone down on the couch, glanced at the TV, "What is it today?" he asked gesturing towards Crow's head bobbing on the screen. 

"The Giant Spider Invasion," I answer quietly. 

"Hmph, that reeks." 

"Walter, this reeks can you talk to me, for God's sake?" 

He turns and my answer is on his face. Oh thank you God, I am delivered. I stand and he's in my arms before I can blink twice. 

"I'm so sorry," I breath against his face as he rubs his stubble harsh jaw against my freshly shaved one. 

"I'm sorry too, Mulder. I'm sorry I overreacted and I'm sorry I scared the shit out of you too. But I did have to get away and think. The Corvette's always been my escape valve, man. That bitch is better than bourbon." he chuckles against me. 

"This bitch is better than bourbon too," I whisper into his ear. 

"You'll never be my bitch, Mulder. Don't even get the idea in your head. I don't want a woman. If I did I'd be balling Jana Cassidy right now. You're my fucking equal in this relationship. I know we can't be that way in the damn office but outside of it - don't buck me on this, all right?" 

"No top, sub - any of that master-slave *thang*?" 

"No fucking way. I'm the God damned Dom every day of the work week in the Hoover building. I'd like to get butt fucked by the lover of my choice in bed, capeash?" he grins into my eyes. 

"Yes dear." 

He shakes his head, grinning wider. I kiss him on the nose. 

"Mulder, I'm trying to make a point here." 

"Sorry, go on." 

"Look, Mulder. You and Scully, uh...it doesn't matter. She...Christ she's a fantastic woman. I know you two are a phenomenal team and...well if you're in love with her I never knew it until you told me. I mean I could tell you were devoted to each other - but I thought that was the partner gestalt working there. I had no idea you were lovers. I guess that is a testament to your feelings for me, Mulder. I...I can't deny I know you care. I feel like I'm the center of your whole world when I'm with you." 

"I love you, Walter. You are the center of my whole world. So is Scully. I...I can't go it alone Walter. I can't go on without either of you. I'm not whole without you both." 

He kisses me then and there are no more words. No more are necessary. He pulls back and ruffles my hair with one of his large hands. 

"Hey, I stink. I'm going to take a shower." He released me and stepped away. 

I breath deeply, his smell is masculine, heady. Stink? Uh, I don't think so. Relief at having him back with me floods through my blood until my entire body sings. 

"OK. I...I'm gonna watch the spiders," I reply, dazed. I nod towards the silent TV. 

He smiles wide, "All right. Then we should decide about dinner I guess." 

"I'll give it some thought," I nod as he walks off. 

xXx 

"The Safehouse? I've never heard of it." Walter says around a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza. 

I opted for Mulder soul food while Walter was in the shower. I yelled the suggestion through the door while he was singing *Wild Thing* by Jimi Hendrix, in the shower. 

"Pizza? Yeah, I wouldn't turn it down," he called back. 

When he came out of his bedroom dressed in fresh jeans and a black t-shirt the pizza had just been delivered to the apartment. So now we were chomping happily and I had thrown out my idea for the evenings entertainment. 

"I thought you went to the bars once in a while, Walter. Down in Baton Rouge you..." 

"I do, Mulder. Once in a *great* while. I usually go to Club 219." 

"Oh. Well Club 219 is fine." 

Club 219 is for older gay men. Been in business for years. It's almost a gentleman's club. A place to go and drink, swap war stories. Have dinner with a friend. Sedate. Actually it isn't bad. I went there with Reggie once. They have a great prime rib. 

"But boring, right?" 

"No. Just quiet. It can be great if you want to talk with that special someone. They have a great prime rib." 

"I take it you've been there before," he raises an eyebrow. 

"Walter I won't lie to you. You're not my first male lover. But I won't compare you and I won't discuss the others. I hope you won't buck *my* wishes on that." I replied taking up another slice of pizza. 

He shrugs, "Yeah. I can live with it. It's water under the bridge. But, Mulder. I was serious about not getting close to anyone. I really was a virgin in Baton Rouge." 

"It was sweet Walter." 

"Sweet isn't exactly the way I would have termed it but...well, whatever. At any rate, I used to go to the club to talk to the other Nam vets. We got to be buddies. Most of them were with someone all ready. I just had to go somewhere once in a while where I could - you know - just be myself and talk over old times. One of my buddies told me about that joint in Baton Rouge. It was... it was a little overwhelming." 

Christ. And in all these years he never hooked up with anyone? And no one snapped him up for that matter - even for a one night stand? But oh yes - he had mentioned the fact that he'd lusted after me from practically the first day I'd walked into his office didn't he? Jesus. He'd been holding out for me just on the off chance that...God All mighty. I didn't even want to think about the implications of that idea and what it could do to my ego. 

"I know, Walter. I...we go out to The Safehouse when we need to work off some steam. Dance, you know. Scully and I stay out on the dance floor until we're so exhausted we want to drop. Dervishes use the same principle to work themselves into a transcendental state. I guess I'm emulating them. Hell, I don't know. Mostly I dance so I can forget...things...for a while." 

He nods in understanding, looking down at the table. He shakes himself a little and looks back up with more relaxation in his stance. 

"Do you want that last piece?" he smiles towards the pizza box. 

I shake my head and continue to chew. "No, you can have it. I invited Scully to come with us tonight." 

He nearly chokes on that last piece. Half of it falls back out on the table and I'm at his side. 

"Shit, can you breath? I don't want to have to do the Heimlich Maneuver, Walter. Are you all right?" 

He's shaking his head and waving me off so I go back and sit down. 

"Just blurt it the fuck out, Mulder. Do you want to kill me or what?" he coughs out, sputtering angrily. 

"Sorry, it just popped out I guess." 

"I'd like to pop you. God!" 

He finally finished gasping for breath and begins to wipe his face off with a napkin. Miraculously nothing got on his clothing. But the tabletop is covered with goop. 

"I gotta get a sponge..." he growls. 

"I'll get it. It's my mess - indirectly." 

"It's your direct mess, Mulder," he rumbles, "Go." 

I exit for the kitchen and come back with the wet sponge and some paper towels.Mopping it up takes a couple of minutes. Walter stands nearby sipping his Diet Coke, watching me with furrowed brow. Finally I'm done with the elbow grease. I take the sodden paper towels in hand and look up at him.

 "Does it meet with your approval?" 

"It'll do." 

I leave the table and retreat to the kitchen. When I return, Walter's gone. /Now what?/ I wonder. 

I can hear him somewhere. It dawns on me that he's in his bedroom. I can hear him opening drawers back there. 

I trundle up the short set of stairs that leads up to the bedroom level and go down the short hall. When I walk in on him he's standing in his closet. Well that's an image with an obvious connotation isn't it? Hell. But in this case, it's a pleasant vision. 

"Ok, Mulder what do you think about this jacket?" he asks holding up a gray blazer. 

"What?" 

"Does this look good. I mean if we're going out, I want to look good. Especially if I gotta worry about impressing the other woman," he chuckles putting the jacket back on it's hanger. 

"You bastard," I laugh, "I thought you weren't going to go. I really did." 

"I have to face up to this sometime, Mulder. I might as well face the music tonight rather then put it off. So, what does Scully like? I mean color wise. If we're both going to escort her we might as well look decent." 

"Maybe we should color coordinate." 

"Oh yeah, right. We can look like the fucking Bobsey Twins." 

"You're dating yourself, Mr. AD," I tease, rummaging through his clothes rack. 

"I'm dating you, asswipe. Now help me decide." 

"Jesus, Walter. I thought my clothes were expensive. You've got me beat all to hell." 

Walter is quite the clothes horse ladies. Not only is his stuff tailored to show off his physique but he only buys the basic best anyway. He could wear anything off this rack and not go wrong tonight. I felt like the poor cousin in comparison. Like the Pauper to his Prince. 

"So, Mr. Blackwell - How about some input here?" Walter prods, holding up another jacket. Black this time. 

"Dress light. You're going to sweat like a pig out on that dance floor." 

"Dance floor?" 

"Well yeah, you're gonna dance with me, aren't you?" 

His lips curls up in a little smile. 

"Do I need one of those hats with the tassel on top - you know - a fez?" 

"Fez's are mandatory for the follicley challenged didn't I tell you?" 

"Fuck you." 

"Keep promising, Walter. I do have an eidetic memory. 

"So, no whirling, but I'm gonna get hot anyway?" he asks glancing at me as he puts the second jacket back on the bar. 

"The fucking dance floor is so packed we'll be stuck together like glue." 

"In that case, yeah, I'll dance with you," he smirks wolfishly. 

Oh baby. This is going to be a glorious night. 

xXx 

We took the Corvette, top up, and headed for Scully's in plenty of time to stop by my apartment. I really needed a different change of clothing myself by that point. Something a little better than my ripped Levi's and *Fuck 'em Bucky* t-shirt. 

Walter stood just inside the door of my apartment like the friggin' building inspector until I invited him in. 

"Who do you think you are - Count Dracula, Walter? You don't need an invitation to enter here - come on in and sit while I change." 

Did I tell you what he ended up dressing in? Black. All in black. Even his tie. He looks like a fucking Mafia Don but the effect is rather breathtaking. I know Scully's gonna drool. She likes a man in black with glasses. I speak with authority - it's a fact Jack. 

"I didn't wanna scatter the roaches," he quips, wrinkling his nose. 

"You God damned queen! Get your ass on the couch. I'll be out in a minute," I shot back at him as I retreated to my bedroom. 

I pulled out black button fly skin tight Levi's, black t-shirt, black sports coat and black Doc Martens. Men in black. Gee, how appropriate. I just wonder what Madam Scully will wear. As an afterthought I strip and put on my black jock. I can't really wear anything else under these jeans anyway. 

A quick look in the full length mirror on the back of the door tells me I'm dressed to kill. Oh yeah. I don't opt for my specs though. We'll allow Walter some originality. Scully's going to be dragging her tongue as it is when we both show up at her door. 

At the last, I run a hand through my hair and smooth it back a little. There isn't much I can do with it. Mind of it's own. One of these days I should think about going back to that shorter do I had a few years ago. It was a hell of a lot easier to manage. I shrug and head back out to join my big boy date. 

Walter is standing, staring at my fish tank when I come back in the living room. 

"You have a floater here, Mulder," he advises me reaching into the top. 

"Christ, not again?" I reply. I should give up the damn fish. I'm the angel of death when it comes to them. 

He gingerly lifts the slimy corpse out of the confines of it's watery grave and drops it into my outstretched palm. 

"You should try a fungicide. It's got ick." he grimaces as I take the body into the can for another watery burial. 

"Ick?" I ask as I come back in. 

"Fish fungus. Sharon had tropical fish," he replies looking me up and down. 

"Oh. So?" I spread my hands out in that all encompassing how do I look big guy gesture. 

"Very nice. I guess we are color coordinated." 

"Black isn't a color, Walter." 

"But black eyes are - keep it up sweet pea." 

I chuckle and glance at my watch, "Shit. We'd better get going. Scully's gonna be wondering where we are if we're late." 

The drive to Georgetown is spent in silence. I'm too fascinated watching Walter drive the Corvette to talk much. Mr. Skinner is nervous so I know his conversation would be reduced to monosyllabic grunts anyway. 

God, he drives that stick like he cranks my dick. He really is into the Chevy. It's almost like he's some kind of H. R. Giger mechanoid creation - joined with the very steel of the machine as it speeds down the Beltway. Biomechanical. I lick my lips as he shifts gears and puts the pedal to the metal. We won't be late at this rate, Scully. No sir Dale Earnhart. 

We pull up in front of Scully's apartment with time to spare. Walter shuts off the ignition and sits behind the wheel, staring through the windshield. 

"Take a deep breath, Dad," I smile. 

"I'm counting to 10," he nods, "All right, let's go." 

Walter stands behind me like he thinks he'll be able to hide his man mountain bulk from the woman who will very shortly be opening her door. I ring the bell a second time and we're met with a shout from inside. 

"Hang on, I'm on the phone." 

Jesus I hope it isn't Maggie calling for help," I muse. In short order we can hear Scully's steps approaching on the other side. The dead bolt slides over and the door opens wide. 

"Hi," I smile wide, "Is everything all right?" 

"Just fine." 

Fine? Mighty fine. Oh my my my. I can hear Walter's hiss behind me. Yeah big dog tell me about not wanting a woman again. 

Scully is standing in the doorway, back lit but there is no mistaking what she's wearing. I really like her in strapless red too. Oh Lord do I ever. It's a hoot though. She's barefoot and barely coming up to my tits. An errant thought flits through my mind. Red and Black. King me. We look like checkers. 

"Come on in. Hello sir," she inclines her head towards Walter. I can just see the tiny smirk disappearing from her lips. 

"Uh...Hello," Walter squeaks. Oh brother. He sounds like Mickey Mouse on steroids. 

She steps back. I motion for Walter to step past me and he slides on by. Scully's eyes zero in on his ass like two blue beacons. I hang back a second and raise an eyebrow at her. Now that we're in the light I can see her pupils dilating. Oh FoxyLady. So are we really that nervous around The Boss? I don't think so. 

She grins and makes a thumbs up sign. I choke trying not to laugh. 

We both follow Walter into her living room. 

"Would you like a drink?" she asks us both. 

"I'm the designated driver, Scully. No. Walter?" 

"Sir?" she asks almost simultaneously. I can see Walter swivel his head back and forth between us trying to process data and make some sort of decision. His answer isn't quite what I expected but it's not inappropriate. 

"Call me Walter, all right. I can't...this sir shit just isn't going to work tonight." 

Scully laughs and a lot of ice is broken in that laughter. 

"All right, Walter. The bars open. Name your poison." 

"Bourbon?" 

"On the rocks?" 

"Straight up." 

"Can do. Why don't you guys sit down. I'll make the drinks." 

"I could use a Coke," I chuckle. 

"All ready there, Mulder," she replied back over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen. 

Walter sagged onto the couch as soon as she was gone. I stood up, leaning against her fireplace, watching him. I'm amazed he isn't sweating bullets. His face looks like a constipated librarian's pickled kisser. 

"Walter, relax." 

"I'm dying." 

"You're doing fine. This is Scully, Walter. Remember? She likes you." 

"Oh yeah, right." 

"Well, she likes your ass." 

"You are not helping." 

"Just go with the flow, Big Man. You'll see. We'll be fine," I state with finality. I can tell just by the way Scully looks, her body language and the expression in her eyes that she's enjoying herself all ready. And oh yeah - she likes Walter's look tonight. But I can also tell that she's not going there. When she looked at me the air superheated between us. With Walter it was more like a little smoldering interest and that was all. 

I swallow hard as she sashes back into the room. The little red number she's wearing doesn't leave much to the imagination. She floats over and hands Walter his bourbon and me my Coke. 

"I'll be right back," she smiles up at me. When she returns she's holding a shot glass full of clear liquid. I know what it is - Dana Scully's slingshot of choice - Jose Cuervo, neat. 

"No salt and lemon?" I kid her, "oh, sorry. I mean lime." What that woman can do with a lime slice. God.

"Takes too long. Well, here's to extreme possibilities, gentleman. Cheers," she lifts up the shot glass. Walter sits there open mouthed like the fish he pulled out of my tank. I bark a laugh and raise my Coke. 

"To extreme possibilities." 

Scully and I are knocking back our respective beverages. Walter finally blinks and lifts the bourbon up to his lips. It's down the hatch without a single cough. 

He shuts his eyes for a moment. Scully is doing the same. Walter opens his and looks at her. Something passes over his face and I'm smiling wide. All right old man. The wheels are greased with top shelf hooch and I think Walt is maybe getting ready to rock and roll. 

"Thanks, Scully. This is prime," he nods, tipping the glass towards her. 

"Would you like another?" 

"Sure." 

"Ok," she smiles at him. Is that jacket by Calvin Klein?" she asks as she takes his glass. 

"Yeah." he nods grinning a little. 

"It looks nice on you." Oh boy Dana. Add a little more oil there. He's puffing up like jiffy pop now. 

"Thank you." 

She turns to me with a smirk, "You look very nice too...Fox. Would you like another Coke?" 

"No, I'm fine," And oh baby am I ever. Black Magic Woman you're earning points tonight. Scully delivers a really witchy grin and exits stage right. 

"Fox?" Walter raises an eyebrow. 

I shrug, "Some things have changed since Antarctica." 

"No shit," he rumbles a chuckle. 

After another bourbon for Walter and another tequila for Moi Scully, we're ready to hit the roadtrip. 

Scully went into her bedroom to get her shoes and a wrap for her shoulders. Walter stood up and when he fanned his jacket back I noticed he was wearing his Glock. Oh fuck. 

"Walter did you bring your piece?" I ask sputtering a bit. I had mine too, but I'm not drinking. Not the best mix - booze and bullets. I wish he'd left it behind. I also knew Scully wouldn't have her gun. Shit. I mean besides the tequila reason - where would she put it? She wouldn't be carrying a purse. She keeps her ID, key and some spare cash in her bra. We just didn't operate that way when we went clubbing. Always packing heat I mean. I'm usually her back up, literally, when we're at The Safehouse. I don't drink and a jacket covers a multitude of awkward items. But I was just a tad worried about what Walter might say. Mr. *By the Book* Skinner. 

Technically this is a big breach of the rules. A Federal Agent is a peace officer at all times. In other words we should never be unarmed. Theoretically. But...there were just some instances when I didn't think it was practical. Like when you're blasted on bourbon or wearing a skin tight sheath that barely allows for coverage of your cleavage much less Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. 

Walter's looking at me with a wry smile. 

"Count on it," he answers grabbing his crotch. Oh God All Mighty. Don't give my boy any more bourbon. 

"I don't mean your piece of meat Walter. I mean your weapon." 

"Come again," he asks, scratching. 

"Look, *Where's Waldo*. I mean your Glock." 

"Of course I'm packing. Didn't you bring your gun?" 

"Yes." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

Right on cue Scully reenters the fray. 

"Are you two ready?" 

Walter looks her over from the top of her red head to the tips of her red high heeled toes, doesn't say a word, and out the door we go. Well, Mr. Diplomacy rides tonight I guess. I breath a sigh of relief and take Walter's proffered car keys. 

xXx 

Walter's more than a little nervous about leaving the car on the street in front of The Safehouse. He's got it alarmed up the whazoo though. The only non-authentic touch in the '61 Vette. The bouncer at the door takes a 50 to keep an eye on it but Walter is more than happy to pay it. 

"Hi, Doug," I smile at the 300 lb. plus giant that guards the gate. Walter's hard earned cash is disappearing into his black leather pants. Doug is trying to break into the WWF. I thought Walter was big. This guy is like Mount Everest. 

"Mulder," he grunts, grinning slightly, "Scully," he bows a bit from the waist. Scully does a little curtsy. It would have been even more cute if she hadn't left her wrap in the back seat. 

"How's Greg doing?" Scully asks with concern. 

"Oh, the arms healing. I told him not to go for that clothesline. He should learn sometime." 

Scully nods, "Good. Tell him I said hello." 

It doesn't always pay when your lover trains with you. Especially when the wrestling moves don't work out. 

Doug takes in Walter last. 

"Is this Don Corleone, Mulder?" he smirks. There is a definite glint in his eye too. Doug must like Italian. 

Walter scowls his best surly man scowl, "Yeah, Hulk Hogan. Keep it up, baby, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes." 

Doug blasts a braying laugh and slaps Walter on the back. When Walter doesn't flinch or move an inch Doug nods his approval. 

"Step right up my man. You're going to fit right in. Have a good time you all. I'll see you on the flip flop." There's really no need at all to worry about the car now. Doug the Doberman will be watchdoggin' it for sure. 

Doug is still laughing as he pulls the door open and we're in The Safehouse at last. 

xXx 

The sound isn't too bad immediately inside the door. Even so all three of us can hear the thud, thud, thud, of the bass back beat behind the heavily insulated door at the back of the short entryway. This area is where the first set of restrooms, coat check and door leading to a quiet side bar are located. You can still talk out here. For the moment the vestibule is empty. I motion for Scully and Walter to step to the side. 

"Look, we won't be able to hear each other much once we're inside, Walter. So if you need to talk to either one of us, get close and shout into our ear." 

"Got it." 

There's a second long bar over to the right once we're inside. That's where we're headed. If you get separated just get your butt over there. It's a crush, packed to the rafters ." 

Scully nods with a frown. This is the only part she hates. She's short. No bones about it. I have to guide her through the mass of humanity inside and she always feels helpless when she's buffeted by the herd. She's still Ms. Independent in so many ways. This is one instance where I still see it. But if I don't act like a human battering ram she might get stuck like a tugboat on a sandbar and I don't think she'd be happy about that either. 

But tonight she's got two battering rams. Walter takes in the situation immediately and gruff man of action that he is, bulls his way through the door and parts the waters with nary an effort at all. He's into the roiling mass of humankind, temporarily ignoring the flash of arc lights and blast of music, as he sets his sights on the object of our destination. 

One look from Walter and boys scatter left and right to get out of his way. The poor guys probably think it's a raid with the way he's acting. He couldn't do any better at scaring them shitless if he waived his ID and his gun around.

The noise is deafening inside so I can't hear what he's saying. All I know is that we're at the side bar, drinks in hand in no time flat. The cold Diet Coke refreshes all right. 

But once we're at the bar, some of the wind goes out of Walter's sails. He's pressed up against the wood, ogling the crowd, din and strobing spots, doing his Clydesdale stallion that needs to be gentled thing again. He's just not used to yards and yards of prime meat on the hoof I guess. Or high decibel dynamite for that matter. I mean his nostrils are flaring. The DJ starts to spin out *Hey Man, Nice Shot* by Filter and Walter practically sinks through the floor. Well, it isn't exactly his choice in easy listening music. 

Scully taps my arm and I lean down close over her. She puts her mouth to my ear. Scully really doesn't have to yell. Those warm, moist, bee stung lips make her voice carry volumes. 

"He doesn't look good." 

She proffers her ear to my lips and I hiss back, "An understatement. I'd better see if he wants to go to the can or something. He looks like he has to unload." 

Scully laughs and waves her hand away. I step over to Walter and pull his head over to my mouth, "Do you want to go to the can? I need to take a piss." He nods vehemently in the affirmative. I point towards the left end of the bar. The men's john is down at that end. He turns and pushes off through the crowd. 

Walter stalks up to the first urinal he can get in front of and unzips. He had to piss a bucket after all. Jesus. If I hadn't shown him the can what would he have done, piss his skivvies? Something's up. I sidle up to the urinal next to him and whip it out. We're both standing there sighing. 

"So, are you going to survive?" I ask carefully. 

"I should have brought a fucking pair of ear plugs," he grimaces. 

"We can leave if..." 

"No. Can that idea. I'll be fine. Just give me a chance to acclimate. It's just loud." 

He shakes off and zips up. I follow and we head over to the sinks to wash our hands. 

"But you hate the music, right?" 

"Did I say that? No. The music's fine. Look, Mulder. Sometimes...sometimes I have trouble with loud sounds. Noise. It...it goes back to the war. Just give me a few minutes. I'll get used to it. I'm almost fine all ready. It's...everything's fine." 

Oh God. I didn't even consider this possibility. Fuck. How could I have been so thoughtless. So heedless. No wonder he was overwhelmed in that other bar in Baton Rouge. I dry my hands off and stand close so that when he turns to get his paper towel we're standing toe to toe. I stare into his glasses. There is an unfathomable pain in his eyes. Something old and dark and better left dead. I can see his mind fighting to banish it away. I lean forward and kiss him gently on the lips. 

He sighs and brushes my lips back. I can taste the bourbon. 

"I'm sorry, lover. Take as long as you need," I whisper. He pins my eyes and I see that he knows I understand. He gives me a grateful little smile and then the moment passes as a noisy group of patrons comes into the john, laughing and talking. 

Walter dries his hands. 

"Ready?" I ask 

"Yeah. You promised me a dance didn't you babe?" he asked grinning wider. 

"Yes, sir." I laugh as we exit the can. 

Scully is still by the side bar talking to the bartender, a gorgeous transvestite by the name of Emily Dickinson. Just as we reach Scully's side the DJ changes gears and starts cranking up *Sharp Dressed Man* by ZZ Top. Scully takes us both in and bursts out laughing. Walter straightens up and runs a hand from his mouth up over his scalp and extends the same hand out to Scully. My mouth drops open when she takes his hand and heads out to the dance floor. Can you say knock me over with a feather? Yeah, I knew you could. Holy fandango. 

So - I should cut in maybe? I don't think so. No ma'am. This way I can watch both objects of my affections strut their stuff and drool a bucket on the bar. It is quite a sight too. I told you Scully could dance. Well, surprise, Fred Astaire! Papa bear can do more than lumber. Holy shit. He must have taken lessons somewhere along the line. This isn't just plain bump and grind. It's actual dancing. I mean like the kind you see at a 50s sock hop. And Scully's light enough that he can pick her up and really throw her around too. It's fucking incredible. It must be the bourbon. He's as loose as a goose. My Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. God damn. *Sharp Dressed Man* ends and *Tush* cranks out next and they're still out there. But as soon as that number ends they're back breathless at the bar. Scully is actually fanning her tits. Walter looks warm but he's not sweating too badly. I just shake my head. So much for Scully's *I can just see myself dancing with Walter Skinner* comment. 

I raise an eyebrow at her and she blurts out, "Don't even say it." I'm laughing. Walter's ordering Evian from Emily and he nods towards us. We nod back. It's time to tank up again. And no alcohol. It dehydrates. Three Evians appear on the bar in front of us and Walter pays for them all. We slam back the water. There's a sudden shift in the crowd. A sound of anticipation. I smile. Oh yeah. Here it comes. Halloween is only a week away after all. I glance at my watch. Midnight. Yup. Zombie Time. 

The DJ speaks. It will be one of the few times he does during the evening.

"It's Midnight Boys. The Witchin' or should I say, Bitchin' Hour. Grab your partner's, ladies. It's Zombie Time." 

Scully's laughing at the expression on Walter's face. This is a club tradition. The weekend before Halloween at midnight the DJ spins back to back White Zombie tracks. So for about an hour Rob Zombie growls out his unique blend of Universal or Hammer Horror movie samples and post apocalyptic high decibel mayhem. I love it and so does Scully. But I think Walter is going to have to acclimate big time to Robert, I'm afraid. He is an acquired taste. As soon as the first song cues up I know he's going to shit a brick. It's *Electric Head* from *Astro-Creep: 2000*. Well fuck. I love this album. There's nothing I can do about it. If Walter wants to spend the rest of the night in the can he'll just have to do it. 

He's all ready sitting on a bar stool luckily as the tune blasts our eardrums. I bend over close and shout into his ear. 

"Want that dance now, Boss man?" I smile. Like he will? Fat chance. 

"Uh, let me sit this one out," he shakes his head. See. Christ. 

"All right, but you owe me." 

"Next one, I swear," he nods trying gamely to smile. 

Maybe it's the lyrics *Super Charger Heaven* is up next and Mr. Zombie is singing: 

Jesus lived his life in a cheap hotel
on the edge of Route 66. Yeah. 

OK, so like I said - an acquired taste. I pat Walter on the knee and grab the hand of my other dance partner. The one who is practically vibrating to get out on the dance floor. Oh man baby. 

Scully and I push our way out into the crowd. We start to move together and it's just like getting back on the horse. You never forget the ride. She's like a cat, my Scully. She rubs me just the right way. Up, down. Up, down. And she can arch up that back to be petted too. Oh Woman! It's sublime. I know I'll get hard and I don't even care. I ratchet up the sensations by grinding my hips against her ass anyway. It's part of that transcendental state I crave. Tantric transcendentalism. Sex magic. And I know Walter is watching. I glance to make sure. Oh yeah, he's with us all right. His mouth is open slightly and I can see those nostrils flaring again. But this time the horse doesn't need to be gentled. He needs to stand at stud. 

Scully rocks back against me and I grab her hips and turn her around. We dip and grind over each other in shameless lust. It's been a while. Her eyes drift shut and I know she's really letting go. I hold her tight and just watch her move. Like I said, I can't keep up sometimes. The song changes. *Real Solution #9* spins up. This is even better. Oh Shit. I flip her back around and we're crotch to butt cheek again as The Zombie man reverbs the lyrics: 

Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Apocalyptic dreams, see the ordinary madness
Who will survive and what will be left of them?
I never lock the dogs when the wolf is in the darkness. 

I'm writhing. writhing and sweating against Scully. Eyes shut, mouth open and gasping. Suddenly I feel a hot presence at my back. Two large hands grasp my hips. A mouth on my neck. Pressing. Licking, Sucking. Hot, wet breath plays against my ear. For a moment his words are all that I hear. 

"Work it," he commands. And I do for all I'm worth. Oh God in heaven. I'm sandwiched between two molten streams of lava and I'm boiling away to vapor between them. 

Walter pumps against my ass. His hard cock rocking right up the middle. Scully rocks back against my hard on until I know if she keeps it up I'll burst. We move up and down, grinding, groaning, swimming in our own juices. The music rolls over me as well. The bass rocks my bones. My boner's rockin'. I'm throbbing, throbbing, moaning in time to the music. Oh Jesus. I'm on fire. I'm on fire I'm...I wanna incinerate. The DJ in some perverse moment has spun the extended version of this song. I'm barely hanging on for the next chorus. 

I'm all ready dead
I'm all ready dead
I'm all ready dead
Come on the motherfucker's on fire
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire
Come on the motherfucker's on fire
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 

All of us are screaming out the last line. The entire crowd. I can hear Walter yelling against my neck. It's hard to resist a group mind fuck like this one.

I can't. I'm howling with the rest of the pack. 

Walter's egging me on. I can hear him behind me breathing hard. He sounds like a old-fashioned coal powered locomotive, "Do it. Do it. Do it." he keeps repeating like some kind of mantra with every slap of his cock. He can really grind those hips let me tell you. His hands are playing up and down my body in time with the music. Oh shit I remember that remark about keeping it up all night. Oh God. I'm headed for queer heaven again. 

And having Scully working over the front of my body is going to send me into orbit. She's raised her arms up and I'm running my hands down over them and then down onto her tits, onto her hips, down onto her stomach. I can smell her. Soap, shampoo, her spicy delicate perfume. Her hot pussy. Cat Woman from the fucking moon. She's sliding her ass over my cock so smoothly it feels like raw silk. I wanna give her some of this up front. Oh Lord. I move my hands back up her arms and turn her around. I know she knows Walter's behind me. His hands are so large they've brushed her more than once as she twisted against me. But when she gets a look at him over my shoulder her eyes go wide. 

Oh brother what must he look like? She pins my eyes. Unspoken thoughts traverse the distance. Scully and I are almost psychic this way. We read each other so well. Her look tells me that she feels like a third wheel. She feels it but she doesn't mind. Whatever she sees in Walter's face has overwhelmed her a bit and she needs to regroup. She looks beautiful as all that crosses her face, flows out and enters my mind. She's so flushed, so aroused, so exquisite. I hate for her to leave my arms. But I know she will. I grasp her hand and squeeze. She squeezes back but shakes her head. Times up. She lets go and moves back through the crowd, floating off towards the side bar. This time, this once, the crowd parts for her in acknowledgment that a Goddess had come to earth and walks in their midst. 

I watch her leave and I become blindingly aware of the hard, hot mass of muscle at my back. I turn in his hands, and get the total picture of what Scully had seen. 

I'm seeing someone but it's someone or something I hardly recognize. There's a God here again tonight. But he's not Greek. I think this one is Celtic. Pagan. Druidic? If I was to dream I was on the Wild Hunt I know this is what Hern, the antlered Hunter would look like. Hern, the master of the hounds. Riding, riding the stag to ground. Riding me down to my death from ecstasy. I can hardly look in his face. His eyes are closed and he's lost on the hunt. And the hounds are baying. 

I notice dimly that the crowd has left a small space around us. I mean Christ one look at Walter, at his...at this orgasmic intensity. God. I'd give him a bit of a berth. No one wants to stand near this much heat for long. They'll fucking fry. Except me. I can't get enough of it. I'm the moth to his flame. I want to cook. 

I slam my hips forward, grinding against his cock and when he realizes finally that we're face to face and sans Scully, his eyes fly open behind his steamed up specs. I can see them through the fog. They're like two white hot coals. 

Rob Zombie screams but I hardly hear the words. 

Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Into the world number nine bring the death in
Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Loser take it all getting high on the kick in
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 

We're sliding against each other, groin to groin, over, and over, and over. Neither one of us will let the other's eyes go. His smile goes wider and wider. It's a rictus of pleasure. Hunger. Just like the big bad wolf. Such big teeth. The better to eat you up with my little red Fox. I know he can move fast for a big man. He's flowing fast over me, powerfully, urgently. It's driving me out of what little mind I have left. His frenzied abandon is almost more than I can comprehend. I give a shit. I'm one big open nerve and I want to feel it all. As the sound and fury builds up, and up, and up, I know something's got to give. The crowd itself tenses along with us both. It feels like a big wave coming. Heading for shore. Roaring. Is that a roaring? 

Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Got 24 hours of psychoholic magic
Who will survive and what will be left of them?
Illuminate the face and the eye of the serpent
Come on. Come on the motherfucker's on fire
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire
Come on. Come on the motherfucker's on fire
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
I'm already dead.
I'm already dead
I'm already... 

The little death spreads it's cloak. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck him. Oh please. Please. The entire crowd seems to explode in climatic delirium, crushing in around us. The thundering roar is incredible, ear drum shattering. Walter's head snaps back, his neck muscles cording until I can't understand how his sinews aren't rupturing. He's shouting to heaven with all the rest of the supplicants around us. Come on. Come on. Come. OH GOD! He's holding me tight and I can feel him shooting even through the layers of cloth that separate us. I hang on for dear life because I'm about to follow him. My head slams down into his shoulder and I'm practically biting through his jacket. I can feel the warm stickiness flowing down my leg. We both cling to each other, gasping. I can just hear Walter's exhaled breathy words in my ear. 

"Fuckin' A." 

xXx 

"You know Mulder I haven't done something like this since I was maybe fourteen." 

"Precocious weren't we?" I ask from the stall next to Walter. I'm giggling a little and I just can't help it. Somehow the picture of Walter Sergei Skinner, hard- assed Assistant Director of the FBI giving himself a paper towel sponge bath in the stall of a gay bar is just too much not to giggle over. 

"Put a cork in it, Mulder. This isn't a high point of my life here." 

"I should have put a cork in it," I chortle as I swab my thigh off. 

"Now you think of it." 

I still can't believe Scully begged a piece of Cardboard and a Sharpie off the Bartender. Her emphatically printed sign with the words "Temporarily Out of Order" on it is hanging on the front of the men's room door. She borrowed the Duct tape too. Walter got rid of the only other two guys that were in here by just smiling. Well it wasn't a friendly smile. The Big Bad Wolf Huffs and Puffs. Oh yeah. Then Scully slapped the sign up. So we had some peace and relative quiet while we made our ablutions. 

Lord. It's lucky Scully's a liberated woman. She's leaning against the wall outside just in case some unlucky fucker can't read Sharpie. 

I had to take off my black jock. It's a lost cause. I tossed it over the top of the stall and hit the trash can for a three pointer. 

"Boxer's have their advantages, Mulder," Walter chuckles. 

"Rub it in little big man," I grouch. Yeah, he shot his wad down the leg of those Fruit of the Loom pantaloons he wore tonight. /What happened to the BVDs?/ I thought. Well I did tell him to dress light didn't I? Christ. 

"I might. I heard semen is good for your skin." 

"Maybe you should tell Jana Cassidy that the next time you see her." 

"Oh fuck, right," he's laughing like hell now and so am I. There's a resounding pound on the door. Scully's voice comes through the wood and the metal. 

"If you're laughing I'd like to be on the joke. Hurry up will you. I'm having to fight them off out here." I hope she means guys wanting to use the can. But I doubt it. I bet Thelma and Louise are out there snapping her spaghetti straps. 

"Walter we'd better get back out there. We're turning into really shitty dates here." 

He frowns over at me, "I think we'd better take her home, Mulder. She's been more than patient with all this crap." 

"Walter, it's ok, really. She's used to a hell of a lot more weird shit from me than this, believe me." 

He does grin a little, "Yeah. I guess I can believe it. But look - Have some mercy on this old man and get me home to bed. Ok?" 

"All right, Walter. Let's go home." I replied running my hand along his hand where it gripped the stall wall. 

"Thanks, babe," he sighed as he turned and pulled his pants up. 

xXx 

So, once again we're at Scully's apartment. She drove to her place. The little speed demon really wanted to drive that Corvette. Walter agreed without hesitation. He looked beat. We sat snuggled in the back seat. I felt a little like I was being chauffeured or like I was at a drive in movie or something. Or maybe it was that post coital cuddling I covet. Whatever. I couldn't help myself. I started necking with Walter. He wasn't too enthusiastic - at first. But it grew on him. His glasses were steaming up again before we reached the Georgetown exit. 

I caught Scully sneaking a peak at us in the rear view mirror. We weren't lip locked, thank God. I moved away from Walter a little. I didn't want her to wrap The AD's ride around a light pole. I thought I caught her smiling before she looked away though. 

Scully cut the ignition and parked the car directly in front of the buildings entrance. We left Walter dozing in the back seat and walked hand and hand to her front door. 

"Are you ok with this Dana?" I asked as we stood under the light outside her apartment door. She stood very close and I stroked her cheek. 

She pulled her wrap a little closer around her shoulders, "Yeah. I think so." 

"Sure?" 

"I'm sure." 

"Good." 

I continue to stare at her for a few seconds as we breath in unison. 

Mulder?" 

"What?" 

"I love you. I want you to be happy. Walter's a good man. You couldn't have done better." 

"Oh God. I love you so much," I whisper, passion choking my voice off. 

I pull her close and bend down to capture her mouth. She tastes so sweet. Like ambrosia. A fine red wine. Her lips part and our tongues dance together. She's melting against me. Nothing beats this feeling of soft femininity mixed with steel. She's the only woman for me and every time I'm with her like this, that fact is driven into my heart deeper still. I pull back somewhat breathless. She looks fearlessly up into my eyes. 

"Now, take him home, Mulder. He needs his beauty rest big time." 

I squeeze her tight again. 

"Ok, lady mine. Listen, I'll see you on Monday. I'm staying over at Walter's place again tomorrow night so I'll be driving in from Crystal City." 

"All right. Are we still leaving for Fresno on Tuesday?" 

"Yes. We can go over the file again Monday. Quite frankly I think it's a hoax but..." I shrug. She knows we have to check it out. The truth is still out there. 

"All right, Mulder. Make sure you get some rest tomorrow, though. Hoax or not, I need you fresh on Monday." 

"Who's the senior Agent here?" I tease. 

"Who's turn is it to do the expense report this time?" 

I'm smiling and rolling my eyes, "Oh yeah. Point taken. I'll get my beauty rest too." 

"That's my boy," she grins giving my cheek a little pinch. 

When she takes her hand away I touch the spot. It tingles. She's turning to unlock her door so I step back a little to give her some room. 

"Dana?" 

"Yes, Fox?" she replies pulling her door open. 

"Thanks." 

"Don't mention it. Drive safely. I'll see you later." 

She shuts the door quietly as I walk away. 

xXx 

Come on, Walter we're home." I'm shaking him by his shoulder as he snores in the back seat. I let him sleep back there all the way to Crystal City. I had to rifle his pockets for the key card to the secured garage, though. He's really out of it. 

"Huh?" he grunts as I shake him again. 

"Wake up *Sleeping Beauty and the Beast*. We're home." 

"Hell. Did I sleep the whole way. Where's Scully?" 

"At her apartment Walter." 

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I do sort of remember stopping there." 

"Right. Can you walk up under your own power?" 

"Always." 

I stand close though just in case he does get wobbly. But he's navigating just fine now that he's upright. 

We make the elevator and I hit the up arrow button. We stand there in companionable silence until it arrives. The trip up is spent staring at the four walls. 

The apartment is dark but nowhere near as cold and empty because my undercover man is there with me. 

"Walter, I want to take a shower." 

"Yeah. Mind if I join you?" 

"Uh..." 

"No hands, I promise. I'm beat. Showering together will just save time." 

I see his point. We head for the bathroom. Walter finishes scrubbing up before I do. Less hair. He leaves me alone to let the hot spray soothe my dance sore muscles. I get out, towel dry, and pull on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt. 

When I go back out to the sunken living room he's standing in his bathrobe by his CD cabinet glancing through the small stack of disks I brought with me. 

"Stabbing Westward. Are these guys any good?" 

"Would you like to hear the CD?" 

"Sure." 

I smile into his eyes. I'm not sure I believe in God, but I do believe in providence. I believe in serendipity too. This is a case in point. I walk over to Walter and take the CD from his hands. It slips easily into the Sony. I turn on the unit with the remote and hit the track forward button until I reach Track 5. I toss the remote onto the couch. The volume isn't too loud. But it's loud enough. 

I turn to Walter. 

"May I have this dance?" I ask. His eyes crinkle with pleasure as he moves in against me. We wrap our arms around each other. He puts his head on my shoulder. The strains of *You Complete Me* fill the apartment and we begin to sway together. I place my lips near his ear and quietly sing the lyrics to my lover, the other love of my life. 

I am lost in the darkness
between two worlds and here
I'm struggling
You're the light, I've been seeking
'cause my whole life, there's been something missing 

Only you
Can make me whole
Just one touch
You complete me 

I can feel his heart. It's pounding in his chest. I hug him tighter and continue to sing along. 

Rescue me from this black hole
That's sucked me in and left me dying
You're the truth that I've been seeking
'cause my whole life I've been lying... 

Only you
Can make me whole
Just one touch
You complete me 

My shoulder's wet now. He's crying into my t-shirt. I feel the tears begin to run down my face as well, but I try to press on to the end. 

God I pray you find me worthy
of the right to stand beside you
And of your truth and of your passion
And of the right to sleep beside you... 

The chorus repeats twice and despite my good intentions I really can't go on because tears are washing down the back of my throat. Walter is way beyond words. He's reduced to incoherent sobs. Somehow he manages to raise his head and find my mouth. My whole being, my entire world, focuses down to that one moment as he kisses me. 

I am complete. Whole at last. I pull back. 

"Let's go to bed, Walter." 

He nods, and we do. 

xXx 

Author's Note: Well I think I feel a third installment coming on if you all want it. I mean Halloween is a week away in this story and we still need to find out what the heck Walter is going to do about Jana Cassidy don't we? So, what do you think? Should I go for the gusto? Let me know and we'll give it serious consideration. 

Bests,
frogdoggie
frogdoggie@hotmail.com

Disclaimer the second:

All references to White Zombie including the lyrics to their songs from the Astro-Creep: 2000 CD - copyright 1995 by Rob Zombie and WB Music Corp/Psycho-Head Music ASCAP. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is meant here. 

The lyrics for the song "You Complete Me" from the CD "Darkest Days", by Stabbing Westward copyright 1998 by Sony Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is meant there either. 

And last but not least - apologies to Perry Farrell and Jane's Addiction too for that snippet from "Whore".
-THE END FOR NOW?-