Title: Debut

Author: Laurel

Author's Website:

Status: NEW - Series

Category: Story, Relationship

Pairings: Other Pairing , Skinner/Mulder/Doggett/Krycek

Rating: R

Gossamer Category: ~ Slash

Summary: Alex debuts at the jazz club

Notes: Inspired again by Diana Krall's "live in Paris" CD. Continues the series on a musical note.

Other stories in the series: (I figure I should have listed them all before this so no one gets mixed up on the order, including me) A Christmas wish, A new love, That's what friends are for, Popsicle Toes, Twister, Tangled up in blue, The list, The jazz singer.

Song lyrics and music: "Devil may care", Bob Dorough and Terrell Kirk; "I'll string along with you" Al Dubin and Harry Warren.

Warning: Contains f/f sex.

Archive: Okay to WWOMB, anyone else just ask first.

Spoilers: Previous story, The Jazz Singer.

Debut
by Laurel

They sat huddled around the tables with the single glass-enclosed candle in the middle, its flickering flame painting the cheap, ruby glass with licks of yellow fire. Smoke drifted in the air like writhing snakes, from cigarettes with dangerous amounts of ash hanging from their glowing ends. They dangled from hands whose owners hunched closer to keep their conversation to muted whispers, cancer sticks momentarily forgotten in anticipation of the music.

The spotlight focused its pale round light on the black clad figure on the stage. He took the mike down with one slightly shaky hand. The occasional loud whisper or hastily choked off cough punctuated the air. The crackle of ice in a glass stirred by swizzle sticks
sounded like the rattle of a drum.

The delicate laughter of a woman on a blind date reached Alex's ears. The joke was old but the man showed promise of a future relationship. She made like she'd never heard that one before. Alex smiled while adjusting the mike. He saw the man's hand dart under the table to hold her hand.

The tinkle of piano came from the dark as Amy warmed up, while the purple and blue neon lights played over the stage revealing the band in silhouette. The piano gleamed in the darkness. Amy's pale hands fluttered like birds over the keys. Jeff sat still as a statue with his guitar in his hands. Kris sat poised with his drumsticks and the thrum of the bass had Alex's heart pounding on his debut night.

He gazed out at the crowd, waited a few more beats before he sang. His sharp eyes picked out his lovers. They all smiled and raised their glasses in a toast.

The band made "devil may care" Alex's signature opening song. It would start the evening's set every night they played. With his input they arranged a new standard menu of songs but they would compensate for any requests and juggle other songs into the set
when the mood of the band and the audience dictated.

It was a good song for his smoky voice, in a bouncy, almost manic arrangement, cynical in tone.

"No cares for me. I'm happy as I can be. I've learned to love and to live, devil may care."

The audience clapped their effort and Alex relaxed.

They slowed down to a romantic slow number, one of his all time favorites, "I've got you under my skin." He found when he sang this one to his lovers they would pounce on him and kiss and touch him until he could barely get the words out. It got the audience swaying gently and a few couples got up to dance.

His honey and whisky voice shaped the lyrics like the rough tumble of a waterfall, each word following the next, like a steadily dripping stream until they pooled together like a warm, slow river of molasses.

He held the microphone delicately, cradling it in his sweating hand like a fragile object, careful not to get too close to avoid the squeak of feedback.

He paused momentarily before they went right into another slow number "I'll string along with you."

"You may not be an angel, cause angels are so few. But until the day that one comes along I'll string along with you."

John winked at him. Walter grinned and Fox smiled like a loon at the sentiments.

They switched moods again to a bouncy but romantic number "'deed I do", which showcased the instruments nicely. The band played, as they always did, with a great professionalism and as a cohesive unit that enjoyed making great music together. Even shy Amy smiled and giggled in delight.

Alex bobbed his head in time to the music. The crowd began to clap before he finished the final verse. The band segued immediately into "Fly me to the Moon", one of the happiest songs in the repertoire just for the sheer joy it inspired for its sound as well as the lyrics. They clapped madly again at the old, familiar song.

They took it down a notch with a slow number, "The look of love". It was sensuous and languid, slow and sweet as honey. Alex took a drink from the glass of club soda. His debut was a smash. He couldn't help but smile. The audience ate up his voice and his
charming delivery as well as the seductive eyes that played over the audience's flushed faces as though he were singing directly to each one privately.

He dabbed at his forehead with a white handkerchief. Walter had tucked that into his jacket pocket. He smiled his thanks.

He continued on with a few bluesy numbers. He strove to find the lowest notes to evoke the spirit of Sarah Vaughan while singing the seductive "summertime" and then found the trembling, warbling notes for a rendition of "stormy weather" that recalled Billie Holliday's sad voice. He succeeded in making the songs his own but still paying homage to the great ladies of jazz. He continued on with a lovely and wistful "autumn in New York" that had people sniffling at the bittersweet lyrics.

He was in his own world, a smoky world of jazz and blues, sad and bitter love songs blended with sassy, sexy lyrics and the music that accompanied him was at times smooth, raucous, lonely or trumpeting its pleasure. Whatever the mood called for, his band backed him up. He was pushed back in time to the beginnings of this music, into hardship and forbidden joy and lost loves. The music evoked the sadness and tragedy of lives cut short, like Charlie "Bird" Parker, and the incomparable "Lady Day" as well as those that survived and thrived, like the well-loved Louis Armstrong and "the divine one", Sarah Vaughan.

They finished the set on an upbeat note with "I love being here with you."

By the end Alex was sweating. Droplets dotted his forehead and temples and pooled at the edge of his collarbone. He dabbed at his face and neck. He was startled for a moment as the lights extinguished and they were left in darkness broken only by the strobe of neon.

The first break came too quickly. He'd barely had enough time to absorb it. The stage darkened and the musicians all headed for the bar or restrooms.

Alex wound his way through the throng to see his lovers, while pocketing the little notes people thrust out at him. He'd take a look at them after.

Walter pulled out a chair for him and John gave him a drink, "Just club soda with a twist of lemon."

Alex kissed his thanks. Fox hugged him tightly and from the next table there was congratulations from the lone gunmen. Surprisingly Scully was there too. She wasn't alone either. Monica Reyes was next to her, sitting very closely. When Alex chanced another sly look, he realized that the agent's slender arm was around Scully.

He hadn't seen Reyes for a long time. He hadn't seen Scully much either. She wasn't a frequent visitor to the house even though he insisted that Fox invite her over with the promise that he'd make himself scarce. Fox still spoke to her often and he'd gone to visit
their son on occasion. It was strange to know that a piece of Fox lived on separately from them. William was a healthy, happy, nearly normal child. The alien part of Fox's DNA had endowed their son with skills that would probably never be fully explored to their full potential but they didn't have a problem with that. He hoped it wouldn't be long until Will was a constant in their lives.

He nodded at them politely. They raised their glasses to him and toasted his success. He was taken aback but recovered quickly. He chatted with everyone about the excitement he felt while on stage. It was positively addictive. He even spilled a bit of his drink.

"Can't hold your club soda?" Fox teased.

"Actually, I can't hold anything right now. I'll be right back."

He headed to the men's room. On the way back he stopped at Lisa's table. She had brought her sister to hear him sing. His former neighbor was glowing. He didn't know if it was due to the glass of wine in her hand, her excitement about his big night or the fact that she and Byers seemed to be getting along very well. They eyed each other across the room until Byers couldn't stand it anymore and decided to join their table. Frohike and Langly found it amusing as well as frustrating.

When he reached the table, he pulled out the slips of paper he'd stuffed into his pockets. A few were for requests. He knew most of the songs. A couple of them were propositions. He blushed at a couple of the suggestions then burned them in the ashtray before his lovers had a chance to see them and get upset.

It was time to get back on stage. Alex hurriedly showed the list of requests and they arranged them quickly in order. They started with a fast number, "if I were a bell", with Jeff setting aside his guitar and picking up a fiddle. The song was fast, nearly too quick, but Alex belted it out like a pro, bursting out into laughter only when the song was finished. It was joyous and fun and they got a standing ovation for their efforts.

They took their bows then slowed the pace with "lullaby of birdland". It gave Alex a chance to catch his breath and bring the mood lower. The second set was a bit longer. Together with the requests from the audience plus their regular repertoire, they were exhausted when they left the stage.

Alex felt as if only a few moments had gone by before the third and last set. He spent that time with his lovers, sitting between them selfishly, not wanting his perfect night to be interrupted. They sensed his need to talk or be perfectly silent, supplying him with cool drinks and loving arms around him. Walter gave him a fresh handkerchief when the other one became damp with sweat.

Byers and Lisa flirted and played footsie at their table, her sister Wendy abandoned the oblivious lovers to scout out prospective husbands at the long bar and the remaining gunmen tried unsuccessfully to buy drinks for a couple of single women at another table.

Scully and Reyes were holding hands under the table. Fox pretended to leer. They giggled at the goofy faces he was making and the shocked expressions of several of the other patrons. A pair of out and proud lesbians was one thing, but a group of equally out
gays sitting at the next table, on the same night, proved a bit much.

Alex joined the band for the final set. They began with the sad classic "lover man" (a few people raised their eyebrows at that) and ended with the flirtatious "I got it bad and that ain't good." The audience groaned that the night was ending. It had all happened too fast.

Alex helped the band pack up their instruments. He chatted with them while they worked and had a final, alcoholic drink to share their newfound success. Amy, though shy and usually quiet, was particularly animated and told Alex several times how proud she was of his singing. The manager was happy as well and added several large bills to their usual pay. He bade everyone good night. The loudspeaker broadcast instrumental jazz to the few patrons left to close out the bar. It was nowhere near as exciting as the live jazz.

Lisa and Wendy congratulated him. The lone gunmen gathered around him to pat him on the back. Both Melvin and Ringo went home alone but Byers was spending the night with Lisa. Luckily Lisa's babysitter was keeping David for the night. Wendy left with several phone numbers tucked into her purse.

Alex went out for some air in the back alley. He'd sent Walter, Fox and John to the car, with the excuse that he wanted to soak in the club's atmosphere a bit more before they went home.

The sound of giggles came from the darkness and he moved closer to find its source. As soon as he saw who it was, he shrank back, away from the glare of the streetlight and the high beams of a car in the parking lot. Two figures, one tall and dark, the other short and pale, were entwined together, laughing and smiling and trading kisses.

Monica had Scully pinned against the brick wall and her hand was inside her cropped denim jacket. Alex couldn't see what she was touching but he could hazard a guess, from Scully's low moan. He blushed and shook his head.

They were going at it pretty enthusiastically. The bump and grind of feminine hips was making his pants a little too tight. Monica's jean clad leg thrust between Scully's. Scully had a short skirt on and it was now pulled up around her waist. Monica bent to take her mouth in a bruising kiss and they ground against each other in a brutal fashion. Alex winced. That was going to leave bruises in some tender places. They came with a cry, Monica's low and deeper than Scully's high-pitched stifled scream.

He cleared his throat and kept his face turned away for a semblance of privacy.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies. I just wanted to say thanks for coming. To the club I mean. I, uh, thanks for your support. It was a great night. I hope you come by and listen to us again. Anyways, I was thinking you could drop by for dinner. Friday okay? I'll make the guys' favorite, lasagna."

"Sure, Alex. We'd like that." Monica looked into Dana's eyes for confirmation. Dana smiled and nodded. "We'll bring William by too."

"I know Fox would like that. Good night."

"Good night Alex," they chimed in unison, still giggling at his embarrassment.

He shook his head and smiled and made his way to the car. He was asleep before they reached home.


### The End ###