His self-assigned task, to search the apartment for clues to Mulder's recent
odd behavior, had turned up nothing more than completed reports on recent
purchases of fertilizer. Alex thought that Mulder finishing paperwork was
strange in itself, but added to that fact was evidence of furniture polish
recently applied to the table in front of him. He could actually see it
gleaming in the moonlight!
Alex was baffled. Mulder was becoming the new lapdog for Kersh, and he cleaned
his apartment. There were even a few small, modern blue lights added here and
there for atmosphere. Weird. Too weird, he thought.
He jerked his eyes up to the door at a sound out in the hallway—Mulder, and
he was talking to someone. No, he was on his cell phone. Alex quickly slipped
into the kitchen as the door opened.
"Hey Scully? I, uh, know it's not your normal life, but... thanks for coming
out there with me." Mulder sounded tired and defeated.
He pressed the end button on his phone and threw it onto the dining table where
it skidded across the slippery surface and landed with a thunk onto the carpet.
Mulder paused, jacket half off, as he contemplated the shiny tabletop in
confusion. He took a step forward to view the phone, face down, on the floor.
Mulder reached behind him and flicked on the lights, causing little circles of
blue to appear on the tabletop.
He shrugged his jacket back on, and crouched over the table to peer into the
living room. It looked like his apartment, same computer, same tired leather
couch, same fish in the fish tank, but it didn't feel like his apartment.
Mulder backed up, opened the front door again, and checked the numbers on the
door. Yeah, apartment forty-two. I'm in the right place, he
thought.
Alex peeked around the kitchen doorway. Some of his fears were quieting
as an obviously perplexed Mulder noted all the changes to the apartment.
Still, why would someone clean Mulder's apartment? What a filthy, than
kless job!
Alex observed Mulder pull out a small white envelope as he hung his jacket on
the hat rack in the corner. Alex narrowed his eyes on the paper and wondered
if this was a clue, an answer to Mulder's recent odd behavior. He crept around
the corner, following Mulder as the agent stepped into the living room.
Mulder rested his hand on the door knob to the entrance of his spare room, his
junk room, a room meant to hold a bed, but served as storage for his porno
magazine collection and every scrap of paper he ever came across depicting a
possible paranormal event. He sighed and looked at the envelope in his hand.
Why did I buy this? Stupid. Ridiculous impulse, he thought. Mulder
opened the door a crack to toss the envelope into the pile of wreckage on the
other side, but he stopped as view of tan carpet reached his eye. He had not
seen that carpet in so long, that he had forgotten the color. He opened the
door wider and gazed in amazement.
His coveted pile of rubbish was gone and a huge, monstrous, four poster bed
commanded the room.
Alex was stunned. He hadn't even thought to check that room! The first time
he had done so years ago, a dozen magazines had toppled onto his head and a bag
of old sunflower seeds had spilled out over his boots. Now, as he looked
passed Mulder's legs, he could see all the way to the other side of the room
where a small nightstand held a digital clock. Alex crept dangerously closer
to see what had captured Mulder's undivided attention, and beyond Mulder's
still-raised, envelope-clutching, hand, loomed a king-size bed complete with
mirrored ceiling.
Alex's nose crinkled and his head tilted in total disbelief. He noticed that
his pose mimicked Mulder's, and a second later, that he stood only two feet
behind the agent. Alex quickly backpedaled. He must have made some sound,
because Mulder suddenly whirled around and jumped, pinning Alex to the
doorframe.
They stared at one another in confusion.
Alex wondered why Mulder was not pummeling him, asking questions.
Mulder examined the various reasons to why Alex Krycek would redecorate his
apartment. None came to mind.
Maybe, Mulder thought, I'm dreaming again. Wouldn't be the first
time my dreams focused on him. Afterall, he had been thinking about Alex
Krycek off and on all day, his thoughts spurred by a different dream from the
night before.
He recalled that in that dream, he was married, living in the suburbs, father
of two children, and very, very unhappy. It was a life he never wanted to lead,
and for now, the X-Files kept him from it. And Scully too, but well, maybe not
Scully. He could see her settled down in a quiet neighborhood, rearing a
couple of kids, going to church every Sunday —she would be content. Alex, on
the other hand, would never fit that picture of suburbia. Alex Krycek was a
perfect match to the challenge of the X-Files, and, when the Mulder rarely
permitted the thought, a perfect match for Fox Mulder. Tonight, during the
drive home from a thoroughly dead-ended case, he had imagined how his life
would be if Alex had never betrayed him, if the rogue agent had never become
his sworn enemy.
After dropping Scully off at her apartment, he had fantasized coming home to
Alex waiting for him, naked, smiling, his velvet-sandpaper voice telling him
how much he loved him, how they were meant to be together. Mulder even went so
far as to stop at a store and pick up a small token of affection. It was a
total fantasy and he laughed at himself for getting so carried away. He blamed
his thoughts on lack of sleep, but now his subconscious had picked up the
theme.
So, okay, this is dream. Very vivid, but there is no other explanation,
he thought. The real Alex Krycek would have already knocked him out cold and
made a run for it. This Krycek was simply staring back at him, wide green eyes
filled with surprise. Mulder closed his eyes, accepting the scenario, and
leaned further into Alex's space.
Alex was dumbfounded. Mulder was, was, well, sniffing him! Fox Mulder,
F.B.I., had a hand on his thigh, pushing him gently into the corner of the
room. Alex gasped in shock when he felt a warm, wet tongue caressing his jaw.
What the hell is going on? Fox Mulder is seducing me! Out of the blue!
This is too weird, Alex thought.
Alex, uncertain what to do, relied on instinct to lead him. His body relaxed,
allowing Mulder's body to drape over him like cling wrap.
"Alex," Mulder whispered hotly into his ear before capturing the lobe in his
mouth, gently licking and nuzzling at the surrounding soft skin. "Oh, Alex,"
he whispered again.
Alex was hard in two seconds flat. Stupid. Dangerous. This is the way to
get killed. It's a setup, he thought. It had to be, but now Mulder was
rubbing against his leg and there was no way Alex could think the man was
pretending —not with that impressive erection. He did not know what he had
done to deserve this wet dream come true, but Alex was never one to snub his
nose at a gift.
He reached around, clutched Mulder's firm ass and shifted his hips to align
their erections, and was rewarded with a soft moan. Suddenly, Mulder's hands
were everywhere, stroking his chest, his back, his arm, reaching
between them to rub and squeeze his cock.
"Oh, yeah," Alex rasped and smiled, full teeth, with his eyes closed. It had
been way, way too long. Mulder rocked his hips and panted into his
ear. Slim, frantic hands worked at Alex's zipper and then Mulder's own.
Mulder's flesh against his own was a burning ecstasy and Alex used his
prosthetic arm to crush them even closer together.
"Oh, fuck, yes," Alex whispered into the soft, brown hair.
Mulder surprised him further by pulling his head back and kissing him full on
the mouth —a warm, wet kiss full of passion, urgency, promise, and unchecked
need. Alex accepted it all. He welcomed it. He whimpered his approval. Sweat
trickled down the back of his neck and Mulder's hand smoothed it into the wet
wisps at his nape. His other hand was under Alex's rucked up t-shirt, twisting
and pulling at his left nipple, sending exquisite spikes of pleasure into
Alex's brain. Mulder released his mouth and Alex let his head fall back onto
the wall, offered his throat up to the man who beat him, shot at him, and swore
to kill him one day.
Mulder pulled on his hair, wrenching his head back further and Alex allowed it.
He waited for feel of Mulder's teeth sinking into his tender flesh, marking
him, claiming him. Mulder thrust harder into his belly, their cocks slick with
precum and sweat. Small grunts from Mulder punctuated each shove of his hips
pinning Alex to the wall. Alex slitted his eyes open and was caught, entranced
by desire-laden, hazel-gray eyes staring back at him. Mulder's face was
flushed and sweaty, his mouth red and moist. Alex moaned and Mulder broke
their stare, swept his head down and bit into Alex's satiny, pale throat. Alex
issued a throaty cry and orgasm wracked his body.
Mulder had a moment to savor the smooth skin between his lips, the dark
enticing scent of Alex —leather and sweat, gunpowder and arousal —under his
nose, and the rough cry in his ear before his body seized up and his arms
clenched to hold Alex tighter as he spilled his seed in thick white spurts.
Mulder, quivering, relaxed into Alex's slack stance.
"God," Mulder panted, "This is the best dream I have ever had."
Alex opened his eyes with a sudden jolt of realization. Mulder thought he was
dreaming? Alex knew that justification would not last long.
"It isn't time to wake up yet, Fox."
"I know. I have something for you, still," Mulder answered blearily.
Alex smirked. "Really? I'm impressed."
Mulder snickered. "No. It's um...there, on the floor." He pointed behind
himself as he leaned heavily into Alex.
Alex grabbed his hand and brought it back in to kiss the palm. "Okay, I'll
look at it while you sleep."
"No, I-I"
Alex shushed him and led him to the bed. Mulder collapsed and Alex barely
caught him as he rolled back out.
"A waterbed, Alex? You bought me a waterbed?" Mulder asked in a fit of soft
laughter.
"Uh-huh, yeah, that's right," Alex answered as he maneuvered the agent back
onto the bed. Mulder smiled at him in a sleepy haze.
"You, too, Alex. Come to bed."
Alex was sorely tempted. To sleep wrapped in Mulder's arms all night was a
temptation that pulled hard on his soul, but he shook his head and leaned down
to steal a gentle kiss. He stepped away as Mulder fell into slumber.
His foot landed on paper and Alex glanced down to see the envelope Mulder had
pointed at earlier. A quick peek at the bed to see that Mulder was
truly sleeping, and then Alex ducked to retrieve the envelope. There was a
card inside. Pictured on the front, in black and white photography, were two
basset hounds riding a motorcycle, their ears flying back in the wind. Alex
pondered the picture a moment, glancing back and forth from the card to
Mulder's sleeping form in puzzlement.
On the inside, Mulder had written 'I love growing old with you'-Fox. Alex took
step back. His brow furrowed, he held the card out from him as if it was a new
fact about aliens.
Mulder has finally flipped his lid, he thought. He looked back to the bed
again. Still, it's sort of sweet. Finally, Alex shoved the card into his
jacket. He knew if he did not take a souvenir, then he would never accept this
memory as real.
Alex swept his eyes around the room again, lingering at the corner by the door
and at the sleeping man in the bed. Then he left, still bewildered at the
night's events. The only evidence of his visit were the state of Mulder's
rumpled clothes and a torn, empty envelope on the floor.
Suburban Dreams
by Katail
Alex Krycek stood in the corner of the dark room, light from the windows in the
living room illuminated the small dining table in front of him. Mulder would
be home to his apartment soon, and Alex knew it wasn't wise to linger. 
