Krycek Snippet

(Set right after the infamous scene with Krycek in Bill Mulder's bathroom)

The dark man sipped tentatively at his beer, craning his neck in order to keep his eyes fixed on the bar and its patrons. He shifted a little on the barstool, trying to prevent the butt of the Glock that was hidden in his waistband from jabbing him.

This was merely a short respite; come in, look around, have a beer, and be back on the road again. He'd done what he was hired to do two days ago, and the quicker he got out of the area the better.

His fingers tapped unconsciously at the edge of a newspaper that had been abandoned by someone sitting at the bar before him.

"Pretty interesting, huh?" came a voice from his right.

He looked up into the half-grinning face of a 20-something year old kid in a denim work coat and scowled.

"The headline," the kid responded, motioning with one hand while sipping at his beer with the other. "'Former Government Official Found Shot To Death In Bathroom; Suicide Ruled Out.' Mysterious."

Krycek merely scanned the bar again and returned to his beer.

"The name's Dean," the kid said, holding out his hand.

"Can I call you Deano?" Krycek asked, not returning the shake.

"Actually, I'd rather you..."

"Great, Deano. Deano, has your life ever been threatened?"

"What are you..."

"You know, something like, 'Stop talking to me, runt bitch, or I'm going to stick this Glock I have hidden in my waistband into your mouth.' Words to that effect."

Dean paled, and backed up slightly. "Hey dude, I was just..."

Krycek trailed his eyes up and down Dean's body. "Besides, you're a little too small for me."

"I...what?"

"I like it rough," Krycek hissed, his voice lowered. "I'd break you in half. Not that I have the money for a pretty rent boy like you, anyway."

"I'm not a..."

"Go bother that kid over there," Krycek said, pointing to where a tall, lanky, mop-headed guy sat. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind sucking your dick, with the way he's staring at you."

Dean turned to where Krycek had pointed. "Him? That's Sam. He's my..."

Krycek waved his hand. "Glock in your mouth, remember? Get the fuck away from me."

Dean turned and angrily walked back to where Sam was nursing his Diet Coke.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked, confused. "I thought you were going to borrow the guy's newspaper."

"I didn't get the chance," Dean replied, surreptitiously glancing at the guy in the black leather coat. "It got weird."

"Weird? How?"

"You don't wanna know."