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Snow Heart, Melt For Me
Mulder was in some kind of frigging weird mood. He threw his luggage
down and raced to the bed, pouncing on it with a mad grin. He flung
himself back and outstretched his arms widely and said, "Yeah, nice to
live it up for a change. So who's really paying for this gig? Spender?"
Alex put his small bag down on the stool intended for luggage and
said, "Fuck Spender."
Mulder pretended to consider the idea then shook his head. He said,
"No, not my type. I'm serious. Where'd you get the money? What is this
running for, two hundred, more?"
Alex snarled, "Why the hell does it matter, Mulder? It's not coming out
of your pocket and I didn't steal it so just leave me alone. Believe me.
Coming back to Russia with you is not my idea of a vacation. Last time,
we were here, seems to me that I came out missing a limb."
Mulder winced and his hazel eyes looked hurt. He said, "I told you that I
didn't know what happened. I would have taken care of you."
Alex kicked Mulder's luggage, sending his toiletry bag flying under the
starched ruffles of the bed skirt. He said, "Yeah, I know, you probably
would have stood there and jacked off, watching me scream. Don't you
think I know that it turns you on to hurt me? I could feel how hard you
get when you're pounding on me."
Oh, shit, Alex felt the ragged, panicked breaths rattle through his
chest. He had to get away from Mulder or his fingers would be
twitching for his gun. He snarled, 'I'm going to go set up the meeting so
we can get the hell out of here before you do something stupid and I
get hurt." He slammed the door as an after thought and marched down
the hall, almost knocking one of the maids in his fury.
Alex still shivered as he went outside. St. Petersburg in February was
very cold. The sidewalks were clear, but the snow banks were huge
things. It sure cut down on the urge to jaywalk. Alex navigated around a
vast lump he hoped was not a fallen street person and ducked between
two large ladies in matching navy wool coats. He could swear one of
them pinched him, right on the ass, and they giggled as they marched
on.
Alex was supposed to meet Myshko Kobiakovich at one of the larger
department stores a few blocks away. Alex fingered the stupid red
necktie that he was supposed to wear for the man to recognize him. It
was as dumb as the ones that he had worn when he was masquerading
as an FBI agent.
The place was crowded. There were lines of customers everywhere
although the merchandise nowhere matched the variety found in the
least popular discount store in the United States. Sulkily, Alex thought
that he would gag if he had to stay here long. The long, heavy
unlaundered coats, worn by everyone stunk and Alex wasn't used to it.
All the jostling made him uneasy and eager to get back outside or
somewhere where he felt that he could see to defend himself.
Alex moved to the candy counter and selected a variety of chocolates
to pass the time while he waited. He spotted a bag of sunflower seeds
and was amazed. They must have been the only bag in Russia. He
bought the large bag and stuffed it in his coat pocket, telling himself
that it was only to keep Mulder's mouth eating, not talking.
Alex settled on a bench near the lingerie department, watching the
women paw disconsolately through the available goods. A very tall, slim
woman was perusing a black lace bra. Alex smirked, thinking she should
go for it. Her red painted lips smiled faintly and she decisively joined
the long line waiting for the sleepy eyed clerk to ring them up. He
continued to watch the tall beauty as she struck up a conversation
with the woman next to her, a pretty enough creature but no match
for the Russian lily with whom she conversed.
An untidy looking man with a potato-like lump of a nose approached.
His round body was padded further with a coat whose texture
resembled a mangy bearskin. His red cheeks looked chapped and he
swiped at his nose with a mitten-clad hand. Straw blond hair stuck out
of his hat like a scarecrow's stuffing of hay. His watery blue eyes
noted the red tie and he approached, sitting down without a word.
Alex selected a chocolate and nipped a small hole so he could suck out
the liquor contained within. The sharp bite of the brandy contrasted
with the rich chocolate and Alex sighed with contentment, his cat-like
tongue hollowing the treat as he sucked it dry. He was startled to
realize that several people were staring at him oddly. It made him
almost wonder if he forgot to close his fly or something. Alex noticed
that people looked at him that way a lot. He didn't know why. It wasn't
just the arm, because for as long as he remembered he got those
looks.
The man muttered, "Did we not meet in the Rembrandt room at the
Hermitage? I remember that red tie."
Alex sighed and said, "Yes, we both admired the exhibit. Now, can we
cut the crap? When can the American and I meet with Avdikii?"
The man was staring at Alex who had selected a new chocolate and
was nibbling it reflectively. Alex wiggled on the bench and held out his
bag, saying, "God, if you want a chocolate that much, have one..."
The man blushed and said, "Oh, no, thank-you, it was not the
chocolate."
Alex decided that who ever was running this Russian resistance group
was partial towards idiots. He said, "About the meeting?"
The guy was gaping at him and Alex had the unaccountable urge to
squirm. He said, "Kobiakovich, what's with you?"
Finally, the man stammered, "I'm sorry. He's been delayed."
Alex rolled his eyes and demanded, "How long?"
The man replied, "Two days, maybe three days?"
Alex almost screamed. He didn't know if he could endure three days
stuck in that hotel room with Mulder, much less in the same bed. Life
couldn't get crueler. He raged at the man, swore at him until he was
literally tossed out the street by the security guard. He skidded across
the sidewalk, ending up falling into a snow bank and jarring his stump
painfully. Alex angrily rejected a helpful hand from a passing man and
climbed to his feet. God, if he was lucky he would get run over before
he had to go back to that hell on earth with Fox Mulder.
The doorman looked at him askance when Alex returned. Alex
scowled, daring him to say anything. Alex marched to the front desk to
try to arrange another room. He listened to the long involved story
about the Moscow Ballet, a convention of Russian-American Shiners,
and the unfortunate incident with the plumbing at the sister hotel,
which resulted in the entire guest list needing accommodations at the
Hotel Grand Europa. Alex next went into one of the bars, wedging into
the darkest corner that he could find. He ordered a glass of Staraya
Moskva and took a burning drink of it, letting it run fiery numbness
down his throat and hopefully into his soul. He ordered a bottle and
went up to tell Mulder the news.
As Alex entered the room, Mulder looked up, smiling a greeting. He
was eating from a plate of various appetizers and watching TV. This
plate lay on his naked chest and his toes were wiggling out the end of
the blanket happily. He hadn't shaved and Alex thought that Mulder
looked like a sea otter with a shellfish dinner. Alex threw his chocolates
and Mulder's sunflower seeds on the table, and put the rest of the
vodka in the refrigerator. Alex said, "The fucking meeting is put off for
three days and the hotel is still booked solid."
Mulder said, "This marinated salmon is really good. Come here and try
a piece."
Alex glanced and it did look good, but he refused to give into Mulder's
game. He hung his new coat and reminded himself to have his leather
jacket sent out to the specialty service for cleaning. He moved to the
vanity, noticing a pair of delicate decorated eggs resting on a stand. He
almost picked one up, remembering his mother had a keepsake just like
it. Mulder said, "The blue one is for Scully. I thought you might like the
green one. It reminded me of your eyes."
Alex almost threw it at Mulder. The only thing that stopped him was a
practical thought that Ananov Faberge eggs weren't cheap. He gritted
his teeth and pretended that he hadn't heard Mulder. The damn red tie
wouldn't come loose. Alex growled curses to himself as he struggled
with it. The thing was as contrary as Mulder! The more he worked it,
the tighter it knotted until it was a hangman's noose around his jugular.
Alex willed away the mounting panic and tried to work a prosthetic
finger beneath the thing to stop the binding. He couldn't get a finger in
and he could swear his neck was swelling around it.
Mulder got off the bed and came over; hands begin to pick at the
knot, brushing Alex's chin gently as he worked. Alex pushed him away,
glared at him, and impulsively planted a roundhouse slap on the
angulated cheek. Mulder stopped and backed up. He touched his cheek
and said in his blandly mild tone, "Ow, that hurt."
Alex had kept going until his back was against the wall. He was
breathing in deep gasps; there was blood pounding in his head. He shot
out in a harsh and discordant voice, "Then, hit me back. Beat me up.
That's what you do."
Mulder took a step closer and replied, "Alex, that's the past and you
know as well as I do that I had my reasons. Still, it seems to me that I
owe you a couple of free shots. Now, are you going to stand there until
you turn blue or are you going to let me help you?"
Alex gave in and nodded. Mulder frowned and tilted Alex's head back
with a gentle touch. Alex shut his eyes. He didn't want to feel the way
this made him react. Mulder said, "God, the knot is so tight. How the
hell did this happen? You and your ties...there, there now, that's
better. Almost got it. Hold still. Aha, there, all better."
Alex tried to ignore the message from his knees, which were going on
strike and wanted to make him softly lean forward and rest against
Mulder's sweet smelling bare chest. He opened his eyes and saw the tie
dangling from Mulder's long elegant fingers. He took the tie, crumpled
it, and mumbled, "Thanks, sorry I hit you. I'm going to take a shower."
Alex let the water run over him. He reached blindly for the shampoo,
holding the bottle clamped under the remainder of his left arm as he
struggled to get the cap off. The bottle fell when he succeeded and he
cursed again as he leaned down to pick it up. It smelled very nice; it
smelled like Mulder. Alex felt his face heat as he imagined that he would
be covered with this scent as if marked by his nemesis. The idea made
his hand tremble as it rubbed the stuff over his short cut hair. After
he rinsed the shampoo, Alex ran the washcloth over his travel worn
skin, noting the substantial bruise on his left arm where he had fallen.
He knew he was going to have an uncomfortable night for all sorts of
reasons.
Alex put on a hotel robe and walked out. He couldn't bear to put on
the arm right now. The side of his stump hurt under the scar tissue, a
dull demanding ache that he knew would get worse steadily over the
next few hours. He grabbed some clothes and dressed back in the
bathroom. He remembered when they were partners; he just undressed
right in the room, sneakily enjoying Mulder's sultry looks as he gave him
a peep show. Despite what he said, he had enjoyed Mulder's overtures in
those days. It was an illicit thrill, to have the acerbic agent getting
steamed up over his body. Hell, he might have eventually given it a
tumble if things had been different.
But they were different and Alex was sure that whatever had made
him attractive to the man was all gone. He just couldn't see how he
could ever bear to let Mulder touch him even if he was perverse enough
to still want this mutilated body. Mulder was about helplessness, pain,
and the agony of his own betrayal of the man, whose friendship he had
desired.
Alex tucked the empty sleeve up and went back in the room. Mulder
said, "I ordered dinner. You didn't look as if you wanted to go out. The
salmon with rice pilaf sounded good and I left half of the appetizers for
you. Try the stuffed mushroom."
Alex gave up and sat at the table where Mulder had put the platter.
He loved the marinated salmon, a smoky, spicy masterpiece full of
flavors. The mushrooms were wonderful; one of them was stuffed with
caviar. He gave into the sensual pleasure of the food; all that time on
the run, all those hardships hadn't blunted him to this luxury. He
plucked up a smoked oyster, holding it in his mouth to enjoy the taste
and the odd texture. When he opened his eyes,
Alex chuckled, the nervous laugh tickling his throat as much as the
oyster had done. "What?" he asked, "Do I have something on my chin?"
Mulder shook his head, causing the rich brown strands of his hair to
fall across that noble brow. He smiled, a warm intimate smile that Alex
dimly remembered that he had earned once or twice when they had
been both FBI agents. He said, "I just like to watch you eat. I always
did. You enjoy it so much and the wall goes down."
Alex eyed the remaining artichoke heart and shrugged, engaging in the
messy business of eating that, licking up a taste of butter, watching
Mulder's own tongue flicker out as if wanted to offer to do that job
instead. Well, this was weird; they seemed to be escaping into the past
very nicely. Great, Alex thought, as his arm gave a twinge. Nostalgic
assassins and manic FBI agents, next, they should polish off that vodka
and see if they could harmonize on a stirring rendition of "Those were
the days, my friend." or maybe "Auld Lang Syne"
Room service came and spread the food out with a flourish. The
waiter looked good in his tight uniform. He had drooping mustaches
above a cherry red mouth and a stalwart chin. His big soft brown eyes
traveled over Mulder's bare chest with interest. Alex grouchily said,
"Put a shirt on Mulder, jeez."
Alex cast a glance at hound dog-eyes, the waiter and saw the brief
look of disappointment as Mulder surprisingly obeyed. He resisted a
triumphant sneer and merely sat back, trying for his former patron's
regal indifference to the activities of the lower class. Mulder sat down
also and smiled, as the salmon dinners were unveiled. The smell of the
savory fish made Alex's mouth water despite the appetizers he had
eaten. Mulder had ordered wine as well and he dismissed the waiter with
a large tip and a whisking gesture. Mulder leaned over pouring Alex a
glass with an elegance that surprised him.
Mulder smiled and said, "Wine pouring is on the graduate requirements
for Oxford. You'll like this."
Alex found the room and Mulder had a nice soft halo effect around
them by his second glass of wine. The food was excellent. That salmon
must have jumped from the fisherman's net into the oven. The flesh
was tender, moist, tasting of the sea without too strong a flavor. The
pilaf was faintly nutty, fresh fine herbs complemented the other
seasonings in the meal. Even the vegetables were good which surprised
Alex, as Russia was known for mushy, blandness in that division. Mulder
took the cover off the last dish with a "voilà" revealing a glistening
chocolate mound, with a faint smell of almonds and brandy.
Alex sniffed and held out his dessert plate although he commented,
"This is a trick, right? I eat this. It's cyanide and Skinner leaps out of
the closet to help beat me up while I'm dying?"
Mulder took his own fork and captured a dab of the dessert, closing
his eyes in ecstasy as he let the taste command his senses. He grinned
and handed Alex the fork, saying, "Now to be sure, you have to choose
a place at random for me to taste. Of course, I could have been taking
small doses of poison to inure me, but that would be unnecessarily
Holmes-like of me, wouldn't it? Come on, Alex, you have to be sure, oh
fellow paranoid of my dreams."
Alex took the fork, chose a place and dipped it in. Mulder caught his
hand to steady it for it was shaking from the excess of wine or some
other occult reason. Mulder guided the fork to his mouth and said,
"Mmm, very good. Couldn't be much better."
Alex found himself watching Mulder's lips with fascination. He had
never noticed how full that lower lip was, how the whole mouth seemed
so soft and sensitive. His face blushed red and the heat ran down his
neck, his chest and came to rest with a nagging insistence in his groin.
Alex sat back down and devoted himself to finishing the dessert. He
was aware that Mulder spent as much time watching him as he did
eating, but he wasn't going to comment, no, he wasn't going to give the
man an opening for whatever game he was playing.
Alex watched Mulder put the dishes outside the door. They watched
TV for a while, Alex giving translations when Mulder asked. It was a
Russian production of "Love's Labor Lost", so Mulder only needed a
prompt if something came out with an idiom that was inadvertently
amusing. After the movie, Mulder went in and showered, coming back
out rubbing his hair dry, his manly splendor apparently offered for
Alex's perusal.
Alex avoided looking although he was surprised to see the new scars
even in his quick, inadvertent glance when Mulder sashayed forth.
There were a lot of them since he had last seen Mulder nude. Alex went
in to change, to brush his teeth, and to hide from Mulder for a brief
respite. Mulder looked disappointed as Alex came out dressed for bed
in his thermal underwear. "You used to sleep in the nude." Mulder
observed.
Alex said, "I told you...no personal remarks, no dumb ass hair cuts, no
doesn't Santa Claus miss his red tie, no staring at my butt."
Mulder munched a sunflower seed and said, "You're taking all the fun
out of our honeymoon."
Alex said, "Shit, you are the most annoying man I ever met! No
sunflower seeds either."
Mulder rolled the bag shut and said "Gee, and I thought it was so nice
that you bought them for me. I seem to remember that when we were
partners, you told me that you didn't mind me eating them all the
time."
Alex replied, "Mulder, they paid me to say shit like that. They paid me
to roll my eyes around and flutter my eyelashes at you. I had to let you
feel me up and pretend I was too dumb to notice. Oh, Alex, there's a
string loose on your jacket; here let me get it for you. Alex, your tie
knot is wrong, let Mr. Wonderful Senior Agent adjust it for you ...fuck,
if I had been legit, I would have sued you for sexual harassment."
Mulder decided to take his naked Adonis act under the covers and
commented, "Alex, has anyone told you that you've turned into a real
bitch as you got older."
That wasn't worth a response. Alex got under the covers and
stealthily tried to rub his stump. He could already tell it was going to be
a bad night. He had some pain pills in his bag, but hated to take them
when he was working and hated worse the idea of taking them in front
of Mulder. Instead, he rubbed and hoped he was tired enough to sleep
through the night without the terrors. Maybe, despite all, Mulder would
help. When his patron was done with him, Alex often was encouraged to
sleep in that bed that always smelled like a sunny day. The old man's
hand rubbing his back had felt like comfort and he used to sleep well
like that until the old fool got his ass blown to hell. Alex bet that was
Mulder's fault too....
Mulder lay awake. He was aware of Alex lying tensely as far from him
as possible. His breathing sounded rough and, while Mulder would like to
imagine it was with passion denied; realistically it was discomfort.
Mulder had noticed that Alex had left the appliance off and had been
rubbing the remainder of his arm when he thought that he wasn't
noticed.
Eventually, he must have drifted off because he woke up at a slight
noise. He saw Alex fumbling at a prescription bottle. He stealthy got up
and managed to get half way across the room before Alex's instincts
warned him. Mulder closed the distance, observing Alex's face flinch
and hating that reaction, hated that it was so warranted. Alex dropped
his medicine and Mulder picked it up. He sniffed at the glass that Alex
had ready and then dipped in a fingertip to taste it. He read the label
and said, "Alex, you have to know better. It would be pretty stupid to
go through everything that you've been through and then die because
you mixed pain-killers with alcohol."
Alex sneered and said, "What's your problem? Are you afraid you
won't get your jollies if that happens? You always wanted to be the one
that killed me."
Mulder set the pills out of reach, noticing that instead of a lid, the
bottle was merely stuffed with cotton at the top. "Alex, I won't
pretend otherwise, I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but so have you.
Now, we're back to working together. I want to start again."
Alex drank the vodka in one gulp, coughing as it hit, his face turning
fiery red. When he caught his breath, Alex said, "I'm not that naïve,
Mulder. I'm far from innocent. What's this all about? Is it all about
wanting to fuck me? Well, why don't you just take what you want? Why
not just force me to do it your way the way you always did? Like
dragging me to Sky-land Mountain, when I tried to tell you I shouldn't
go? Or how about when you beat me up and put me alone in that
restroom for the alien to possess? Or, like the way you dragged me on
that truck so those men could find me and mutilate me? It's always
been about what you wanted, Mulder. Why change it? I'm sure that you
could make me do what you want; after all, I'm drunk and crippled, you
always like to hit me the most when I'm helpless."
Alex's chest was heaving with emotion and his face was very flushed.
He stood with his eyes bright with tears and Mulder didn't think it was
all about the alcohol. He did wonder how much was anger and how much
was pain. He knew he couldn't argue his points. Alex didn't want to
hear. He couldn't hear.
Mulder stepped past Alex to pick up the phone and dialed the desk.
Despite the late hour, the call desk operator was cheerful and spoke
book-perfect English. Mulder said, "I want a masseur, someone
preferably who has worked with amputees. No, not in the morning—now! I'll pay whoever it is for their time at twice the usual charge. Yes,
as soon as possible."
Alex had gone over to lean on the window, pushing his forehead
against the frosted glass. He said, "Mulder, no one's going to come out
in this weather at this hour."
Mulder walked over and saw that it was snowing again. He said, "We'll
see. The brochure said, service beyond the call of duty. We'll see if the
billing fits the performance."
Alex sighed and walked away to lie on the bed, draped over it with the
considerable length of his legs dangling. He openly rubbed his arm.
Mulder said, "Let me try, Alex. I won't touch you any place that you
don't want to be touched. Here, let me help you take off your shirt."
Alex gripped his shirt collar with his one hand as if Mulder might rip it
off and said, "No."
Mulder said, "Okay, I'll try it with your shirt on. Scully says I have good
hands when I want to be gentle."
Alex finally nodded, a small, constrained movement that barely
reached his neck. He sat up, hanging his head and letting Mulder start
at his shoulders. The muscles tightened and then gradually loosened as
Mulder concentrated on the massage. Gradually, Mulder moved lower,
but as he approached the juncture, Alex drew a swift breath and said,
"No, not there, don't touch it."
Mulder moved higher and then lower along Alex's back. He wanted
badly to pull the shirt away so his hands could explore the naked back,
feel the slide of the muscles beneath the warm skin. Mulder sighed and
respected his word, knowing if he pushed too hard he would lose even
this fragile truce. The phone rang about a half hour after his call and
the desk informed that the masseur was now available.
Alex got up and put on some sweat clothes. Mulder hastily dressed as
well.
Mulder said, "It was my treat. I have to pay for it and besides; I might
learn something. We're working together now. I should know how I could
help you."
Alex bit off his word with vicious abruptness. He said, "We're not
working together. I am out to save my own ass and I think that the
aliens are more dangerous than you are...marginally."
Mulder sighed and shook his head, "Okay, Alex, it that's the way you
want it, but, I happen to think there's more. I seem to recall you risking
that..." He censored his comment, removing the "Pretty" and finished
by saying, "your ass."
Alex tacitly agreed by not complaining when Mulder followed him into
the elevator. The fitness center was darkened except for the main
area and the small room where the masseur would work. He was a burly
fellow, with tattooed arms and huge hands, but he seemed to know
what he was doing. Mulder observed that the world was a strange
place. Now, he would have paid twice what this man was earning to be
the one to touch Alex so intimately, but this masseur for all his
expertise might as well be pummeling a steak to tenderize it. Mulder
absorbed the information, the pattern of the strong man's hands on
Alex's arm. He asked a few questions to cement his understanding of
this therapy, surprised that Alex allowed him to discuss the
amputation. Mulder felt as if he had scored a point in this vitally
important game, pleased by how relaxed Alex looked when they
returned to their room.
Alex undressed and didn't bother to put anything on this time, leaving
his clothes heaped on a chair. "Good night, Mulder." he said, as he slid
under the covers.
Mulder went in the bathroom to run a shower, biting on a clean
washcloth to conceal the sounds he made as he comforted himself with
his usual fantasies about Alex. As he leaned, recovering against the
shower wall, he reflected that he had sadly underestimated the
resources needed in his campaign. He had really thought it would be
easier to get his way. He was beginning to wonder if he had been
mistaken about his interest being returned.
The next day, Alex groaned and hid his head under the pillow. He said
he was going to spend the morning in bed and was obviously nursing a
hangover. Mulder went out, seeing a few sights and just soaking up a
rare morning of total, pointless leisure. Playing tourist was not all bad
although it was getting him nowhere, but out of Alex's hair.
When he returned to the room, Alex was nicely dressed in his own
jeans and a green sweater, Mulder's blue-green Icelandic sweater. Alex
looked as if he was waiting for Mulder to start calling him names.
Mulder said, "That never looked as good on me. I wonder why I even
brought it? It suits you much better."
Alex looked at him quizzically and put on his leather jacket. He said,
"You want a tour of the city? I spent a lot of time here when I was
putting myself together."
Mulder withheld the intense smile that might have chased Alex off. He
said, "Sure, if you're not busy?"
They took a cab to the Hermitage, a museum converted from one of
the Tsar's palaces. Alex looked cheerful enough this morning, pointing
out the vast golden dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral swelling over the city
as they stood on the marble stairs outside of the palace. He
commented, "If we have time, we'll go there too, but right now we
should see the Hermitage. You can spend days there."
Alex produced a student card to get out of paying for his entrance
and pulled off his trick with childish glee. Inside, he eagerly tugged on
Mulder's arm and ran up the grand stairway. Mulder smiled in wonder
and ran up after Alex, who led him out onto a balcony. Alex swept his
hand out over the room below and whispered, "Just look"
Mulder squinted at the view, marveling at the thousand details,
friezes, gilded and carved portals, gargoyles peering from crossbeams
and angels trumpeting from corners. Then he focused on the painting
revealed in huge sweep below. Although not an art fancier, Mulder had a
typical art survey course in his undergraduate studies and recognized
the painting as Rembrandt's "Return of the Prodigal Son".
Alex whispered, "I wonder, after the fatted calf and the feast, what
did they do later? Did they really forgive him or would the resentment
resurface? You ever read Thomas Wolfe, I know his novels are kind of
out of style, but there's that bit about "You never can go home again."
Mulder nodded. Alex said, "I figured it was true. Lost, and by the wind
mourned, you never can go back again." Alex's eyelashes shaded; his
eyes darkened by them. He added, "Don't know if even the wind would
mourn me."
Mulder said, "I would." He brushed his fingers lightly over Alex's where
they clutched the rail of the balcony. Mulder sighed and said, "I always
did, mourn when you left."
Alex looked back, leaning against the rail. The grand room in the
background, the masterpiece of art centered below, these suited him
even as he stood there in his plain black denim jeans and that worn and
battered jacket. Alex drew himself together, the mask slamming down.
He asked, "You grieved because Scully wouldn't let you kill me."
Mulder shook his head and replied, "You should know that wasn't
entirely my fault. I was drugged."
Alex swung around and he stared back at the painting. Mulder said,
"It's about forgiving, Alex. It's about the relationship being more
important than the regrets."
Alex turned back slowly and asked, "Do you really mean that?"
Mulder nodded and replied, "You bet that I do."
Alex sighed and said, "I'll think about it. Come on. There's a lot more
that you have to see."
They explored the Hermitage until closing and ate at a place nearby
that Alex said was known for its cheap, plentiful, and good food as well
as its artistic clientele. Mulder looked around and saw subtle signs of
cruising, wondering if Alex knew that many of the patrons were gay. A
handsome young man with sad, dark eyes greeted Alex. He was a
classic type, nose the rival of Mulder's nose and his full lips also
echoing Mulder's. He was tall and slender, waist like a wasp, his open
shirt revealing a tangle of black curls. Alex said, "Mulder, this is Otek
Nornitskii, I met him at the hospital after my accident. He was
recovering from uh..."
"An argument with a drunken brute of a lover, who troubles me no
more." The man said in heavily accented English as he sat down
uninvited.
A flicker from Alex's eye indicated that he knew more about the
lover's decision to leave Otek alone then the young man might want.
Otek reached, taking a bite of a pastry from Alex's dish. He ate it with
the exaggerated movements of a man trying to call attention to the
talents of his mouth. Alex seemed amused and looked ready to settle
at this place for the night. Mulder stood and handed Alex his jacket. He
said, "You promised me that we would see the cathedral."
Otek scrambled up and said, "I could show you both the sights as only
a native could."
Mulder said, "No, Alex will do just fine. He's bragged about how well he
knows the city and now he has to prove that he wasn't exaggerating.
Come on, Alex."
To his surprise, Alex stood and accepted Mulder's help with his coat.
Mulder met Otek's eyes in a meaningful stare and the young man bowed
in concession to the trump. However, Otek kissed Alex's cheek with a
resounding wet sound of smacking lips. As they left, Alex said, "Otek is
very affectionate."
Outside as they waited for a cab, Mulder muttered, "I saw. I bet he
took really good care of you in your time of troubles and did his best to
take your mind off them."
Alex said, "Grow up, Mulder, believe me, I was in no shape to think
about anything like that. I was very sick. That wasn't a hospital
amputation you know. I had nothing for the pain and no antibiotics until
I was transferred to the hospital here. The doctors said I was lucky to
live. I didn't think so at the time."
Alex abruptly turned away as if ready to flee. He slipped on the icy
sidewalk and Mulder caught him before he fell. Alex started to pull
away, but stopped when Mulder said, "I'm sorry for what I said. I was
jealous."
Alex's nose did that soft crinkle as he telegraphed his amazement. He
asked, "Why? I mean, if you want some guy like that, why not, Otek?
Hell, even I know that Otek is a nice looking guy."
"Otek is handsome, but Alex, you're beautiful. My God, don't you know
that?" Mulder said, almost laughing at Alex's expression.
"Scully should get your glasses prescription checked, Mulder." Alex
said, glancing at Mulder's arm in a subtle request to be set loose.
Mulder obliged, reluctantly. The cathedral was closed when they got
there, but they stood in the square with a few others, looking up at the
shimmering dome, the brilliance of the gold still distinct against the
night sky. Fresh snow was falling and it sparkled with starlight and the
reflections of the city. In a show of spontaneous respect, the few
people nearby were silent. Mulder looked from the beauty of this
monument to God and Man and then, to the beauty of the man beside
him. Alex was a glory that must fade; yet in Mulder's eyes, he was no
less than the other works that surrounded them.
Alex shivered and said, "Sorry, Mulder, I should have worn my other
coat. I don't know why I put this one on."
Mulder opened his own coat and said, "Share with me."
Alex shook his head and said, "You'll freeze."
Mulder urged, "Come on." and Alex shrugged and entered the warmth
that Mulder offered. Mulder didn't feel the cold at all with Alex pressed
against his side. They stayed like that until they caught a cab. Alex was
silent, thinking or maybe just tired after the long day. Mulder felt he
had won ground, a lot of ground, but he wanted to win the war.
When they arrived in their room, he observed, "You let Otek kiss you."
Alex said, "On the cheek, Mulder."
Mulder said, "Let me then. I owe you a kiss back anyway."
Alex finally nodded. Mulder leaned close. His lips brushed the rough
stubble on Alex's cheek. "Your face is so cold." Mulder remarked. He
rubbed his hands to warm them and lay a hand on either side of Alex's
face, covering the icy lobes of his ears. Mulder said, "I want to touch
you now. I remember you saying in that cell 'don't touch me again'. I
won't, Alex, I won't touch you against your will, but I'm asking, pleading,
that you give me a chance. I think you do feel something for me. Why
would you have kissed me if you didn't? Let me kiss you, Alex..."
Alex looked afraid, but he nodded and let Mulder slide his leather
jacket off, placing it carefully over a chair. Mulder touched his gun
holster and said, "You don't need this, Alex."
Alex smiled, not a pleasant smile and replied, "Do I know that for
certain?" but he held the gun out just as he had done before, the
trigger dangling from his fingers.
Mulder took it, checking the safety out of ingrained habit and laid it
aside. Alex didn't protest as Mulder freed him from the confines of the
gun harness. Mulder took Alex's cold cheeks in his hands and tilted his
head. Alex took a quick deep breath and he looked, 'my God, how young
he looked' Mulder thought.
Mulder thought that when their lips met; it was with recognition as if
Alex was the other half of his soul that he had lost. He found magic and
wonder, but he knew that this was in its way a humble mystery. This
love was a thing not just given to the beautiful and seldom to the
overly wise, but that was all right, Mulder realized, because he was
very willing to take a blithe step into space, a fool in love with a mage.
Alex shivered as the lips, soft and insistent, claimed him with a rush
of feeling that made him giddy. Mulder made a noise, eager, desperate,
and almost hurting. One of Mulder's hands splayed possessively along
the back of his head as the other dragged his hips near so that their
groins pressed hard against each other. When Alex would have ended
the kiss, Mulder made such a greedy, protesting sound that he had to
allow him to continue...that and the fact that the world had narrowed
to those lips against his, that tongue caressing him inside his mouth,
the hands connecting them, holding him up when all he could think about
doing was lying down to see if more yet of them could touch.
Mulder's hands moved to the front. His eyes intense, pleaded for
more. He struggled to speak and his voice was rough with his desire.
"Oh, Alex, let me..."
Alex didn't trust his voice to speak and, if he could have spoken out,
who would have given voice, that world-wearied and maimed creature or
this new being that fluttered like Psyche inside his chest? He nodded
and let Mulder draw off his shirt, stand back and just look for a
moment while Alex ducked his head in shame to be seen; his infirmity
naked to Mulder's gaze. Mulder's hands undid the straps and it felt like
being set free as Mulder laid his arm aside. Mulder's lips were a blessing
whisper on his shoulder and then they pressed lower, right above the
gorges and ridges of his sorrow. Alex protested, "Don't."
Mulder stopped for a moment and Alex said, "Just not there."
Mulder nodded and carefully unbuttoned Alex's fly. Alex sat down to
pull off his boots, but Mulder guided him over to lie on his back. Alex
felt the hands brushing the hairs on his legs, sliding the rough denim
over his too sensitive flesh. Alex heard the thud of his boots and the
softer slip of his jeans following. It was a struggle to breath. He opened
his eyes, watching Mulder undress. They rolled together on the bed, and
it felt like fighting. They were struggling, flesh twisting against each
other as kisses were exchanged like gunfire, as hands touched so
gently on the flesh, but flayed away at the soul.
Alex didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. This was
not the sophisticated caress of his old patron, dainty and almost
repulsed at his own desire. Nor did Mulder do what he expected, lie on
him and hurt him in the pursuit of his pleasure. This was a wild groping,
a sweating incandescence of desire. His orgasm startled him and
seemed to surprise Mulder as well.
Mulder whispered, "Yeah, just like that." He guided Alex's hand down
and it seemed that Alex barely touched him before Mulder cried out and
his face fell heavily forward, damp hot breath along Alex's throat.
So tired and feeling strange about this all, Alex waited, anxiously,
anticipating hate now that Mulder had taken it all, ripped away his
safety and exposed his desire. He may as well have bared his throat to
the slaughter as give into this.
Mulder just stood and said, "Be right back. Don't you dare move."
Mulder returned with a wet cloth, cleaning the come from their
bodies. Alex felt the slide of the warm, rough textured material against
his cock, and caught his breath. Mulder tossed the cloth away and slid
in beside him, collecting him to pull him close. Alex fell asleep, his head
pillowed on Mulder's chest, soothed by listening to Mulder's heartbeat.
The thin sun of the Russian winter was illuminating the mess of their
clothes on the floor. Alex looked at the clock and his sleepy
consideration of what else Mulder might want to do fled. He swore and
sat up. Mulder pulled him back down. "No reason to go." He said.
Alex said, "I don't want to, Mulder, but our meeting with Avdikii is
supposed to be soon. I have to find Kobiakovich to set it up."
Mulder looked unaccountably guilty and he said, "There's no Avdikii."
Alex asked, "What? What do you mean?"
Mulder said, "I had the gunmen track down Kobiakovich. I bribed him to
give you that information."
Alex felt angry and he was very confused. He asked, "Why?"
Mulder said, "Look at the calendar."
Alex looked and Mulder said, "Read the date."
Alex said, "February 14, 2001?"
Mulder said, "That should mean something."
Alex thought and a dim memory of tiny candy hearts and silly greeting
cards crept from his long forgotten childhood. He asked, "You mean to
tell me that you tracked down and bribed one of my best sources, you
sent me on wild goose chase across the world, and had me blow all this
money on the finest hotel in St. Petersburg just to seduce me on Valentine's Day?"
At Mulder's nod, Alex said, "Mulder, you are so fucked. Really, really
fucked."
Mulder said, "Alex, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Now, get the hell over here and demonstrate."
Alex hesitated. He asked, "Are you joking?"
Mulder shook his head. Alex swallowed hard, his throat tightening, and
said, "You have to show me."
"I will." Mulder said. He asked, "Are you over your mad?"
Alex returned, "Yeah, I guess."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Alex." Mulder replied.
Alex's response was drowned in a kiss.
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Fandom: X Files Pairing: Mulder and Krycek Rating: NC-17 Slash Status: New Archive: Anywhere, as a complete story. If you have a constructive critique and wish to use a portion, contact me directly. Fan4Richie@Aol.com Or Ursula4X@aol.com Series/Sequel: No Disclaimers: They are but puppets on the stage of their lives and Chris Carter pulls the strings. Notes: A response to a Valentine's Day list challenge: Summary: Schmoopy angst. Mulder and Krycek are working together to fight the alien invasion. Mulder seduces Krycek. No real plot |
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