A swipe of hand over fogged window, the stake-out portion
of the evening having gone a bit longer than planned. A
half-eaten burger lies on the seat, a now luke warm iced
tea melts in styrofoam, and a dead cell phone decorates the
dashboard.
Come on, move. Or don't move, but turn around. Fuck, I
can't see... Okay, good. What are you doing? Don't tell me
I waited two hours just to watch you lean against the side
of a bar and smoke? You're waiting for somebody, you must
be. Well, you're not waiting alone, not tonight. Especially
now that you've turned around so that I can see that pretty
face of yours... Whoa, what did I just say? Did I just call
you pretty? You're a back-stabbing piece of Consortium
scum...
A quick check of the perimeter reveals no one anywhere
around. The bar's empty, even the workers gone home, he was
the last to leave. It's dark and deserted, the street
seemingly completely abandoned, save for the figure
reclining against the brick wall.
Another smoke? Go home, Ratboy, if you have one, you can
smoke in bed. He's gotta be waiting for somebody. There is
absolutely no reason for him to just be standing
there...waving at me. The bastard just waved at me. He's
smiling at me! He knew I was here, knew it all the time...
The car door slams shut, the harsh sound echoing through
the now still pre-dawn. Footsteps, hard and fast, echoing
more faintly, and a cigarette being ground under a boot. A
gun cocks, the sound eerily not echoing at all, but slicing
through the dark quiet.
"Alright, Krycek, what the hell's going on here?"
He's still smiling. I hate that, it makes me crazy when
he does that. I've got my gun drawn, he has to see it, I'm
almost in front of him, he heard me cock it. His hand...no,
no weapon, just...did he just stroke himself? He did, he
just grabbed his dick right in fucking front of me. Damn
it, Krycek, what's going on here?
"Agent Mulder, I see your Friday night is full, as always."
I hate that smirk. That smirk is what makes me try to
pound his face in every time I see him. And where the hell
does he get off? He's as lonely as I am, he's got to be. I
mean, hell, I'm not standing out here by myself! It's not
like he came out here to get a blowjob... Shit! I'm really
going to shoot him this time.
"Cut the crap, Krycek."
"Ah, alliteration, good to see that expensive education of
yours wasn't for nothing."
"What's going on here, Krycek? And don't bullshit me."
"Mulder, you tell me. I had the night off, no one to kill
or betray, had a few drinks with some boys I know, and came
out back to smoke and look at the stars. You look at the
stars, don't you, Mulder?"
A convulsive swallow, the grit of teeth audible. Fingers go
to cock the gun, needing to do something to demonstrate
their tension. Finding it already cocked, they lower the
weapon, releasing the hammer so as not to actually shoot.
Not just yet.
If he doesn't stop smiling at me, I'm going to kill him
for the pure pleasure of it, jail be damned. And looking up
at me through those lashes, playing the innocent. What kind
of supreme being lets a man like Alex Krycek look innocent,
gives him lashes better than any girl's, and reminds him to
bat them?
"No comment? Well, as I said, I just came out to smoke,
Mulder, and then I saw you in your obviously federally
issued un-marked, and thought I'd be friendly. You looked
so lonely over there, all alone at three in the morning,
nothing to do but sit in your car and stare. I felt sorry
for you, decided to be friendly and invite you over. And
that's the truth, Mulder, believe it or not. Smoke?"
Eyes stare, emotions whirling past at an alarming rate,
before the gun is put away, and the jaw unlocks. A
trembling hand reaches for the offered pack, takes a
cigarette. A lighter flares, steadied by two different
hands, and in the moment before the yellow glow fades, the
looks exchanged fold in on themselves. The night shifts,
the moon flips, and the tension is suddenly different. A
plume of smoke heralds a decision reached.
I'm too tired to fight him tonight. Too damn tired. A
minute ago every nerve I had was screaming at me to beat
the shit out of him, if I didn't kill him outright, and
now...? I don't know, it's like he took all my strength
when he said...the truth. He was telling the truth. I've
always been able to tell when Alex was being honest, and he
was being honest just then. Shit, what the hell kind of
life do I have when Alex Krycek pities me?
Silence resumes between them, but it's no longer tense.
Leather shifts against brick, and the only movement is the
rise and fall of a hand holding a red-tipped truce.
"You had a rough week."
"Yeah. It's always bad when Scully's away. She does the
whole 'make nice' thing with the brass. I just piss 'em
off. You?"
"Not the best, not the worst. Only had to fight for my life
twice this week. Nobody tried to blow me up, at least."
I cannot believe I'm doing a "How was your day, dear?"
with Krycek. Still, nobody else seems to give a damn, and
he did ask. If I'm not going to kill him, I might as well
make polite conversation.
"Things going smoothly in the Consortium, these days?"
"Pretty much. Well, except when you stir things up. You
really fuck with the status quo, Mulder, did you know that?
Vacations get cancelled, last minute assignments pop up out
of nowhere, people panic, which usually leads to screw ups,
which usually leads to somebody dying, at their hand or
mine. Not that I'm complaining, beats the same old, same
old. You keep life interesting."
"Know what you mean. Given a choice between most of my
investigations and trying to figure out your next move,
I'll choose you any day. At least you're a challenge, I
feel like I actually need my brain to do my job when you're
involved."
"Thanks, Mulder. That's nice."
"You're welcome."
This is too surreal for Dali. I think I'm getting warm
glowies...
"It's getting late, Mulder, and I'm tired. Want to fuck
before I go?"
"Sure. It might let me sleep tonight. This morning.
Whenever."
A nod, two cigarettes are put out. A small tube appears
from a jacket pocket, along with a condom.
"Safe-sex? I thought you liked danger."
"I do. It's not the same as a death-wish. You don't know
where my cock's been."
"I don't want to know. By the way, unless the condom's
going on my cock, this isn't going to happen."
"Like it matters. Less talk, more action."
He just handed me the condom. He's unfastening his
pants. I must be insane. Oh my god, we're really going to
do this! After everything that's happened between us, how
can I even think about it...? After everything that's
happened between us, how can I not? I've lost it, there's
no other explanation for why I'm in the middle of an alley
watching Krycek bare his ass for my cock... Still, it's a
nice ass. Always was, if I'm being honest. I guess
repression doesn't make much sense right now. What am I
saying, nothing makes sense right now.
"Is there a problem, Mulder?"
"Hmm? No, no problem."
"Then stop staring and start fucking. It really is late, I
really am tired and I have to be at a brunch tomorrow."
"You have brunches?"
"Mulder, you have exactly one minute to get your ass in
gear, or I'm taking mine home and you can jerk off. Again."
"Bastard."
The word sounded odd, having been spoken by two different
people at the same time. A few moment's breathing, eyes
looking over a shoulder, looking at a mouth. Laughter,
hoarse and brief, and then the sound of latex moving over
skin.
God, he's tight. I figured...hell, I don't know what I
figured. Half the time I imagine he's tricking on the sides
or in the line of duty, the other half I wonder if he ever
gets laid. Who would he trust? Christ, he trusts me! Why
would he trust me? Why is he doing this? Why am I doing
this?
"Dammit, Mulder, stop thinking! Let it happen, just...just
let it happen. We're off the clock, Agent. It's just you
and me and another hour till daylight. So do us both a
favor, and stop thinking for a few more minutes."
"One condition."
"Christ, what now?"
"Kiss me. On the mouth. One kiss."
"My condition for yours: don't call me Krycek. My name is
Alexi."
"Alexi."
"Kiss me, Mulder."
Early morning light mercifully illuminating the scene. One
man, clutching at a brick wall as though needing its
strength, head turned back and over a shoulder. Another
man, buried deeply inside the first, one hand on a jutting
hip bone, the other tenderly touching a face previously
used strictly for punching. Soft wet sounds of tongues
sliding, lips parting, of a flesh-filled condom moving
gently back and forth. Pants, gasps, deep gulps of air. The
suspicious sound of need, winding back and forth between
the two, burying itself under desire.
"Alexi..."
"Should I call you Fox?"
"Only if you want to be spanked."
A low sound of amusement, a harder thrust, a moan.
"Oh god, yes...do it. Fox."
A slap, a startled sound of approval, another kiss in
gratitude.
Oh god, I've dreamed about this so many times, wanted
it... He feels like heaven. He's warm and alive and hard
and soft. He tastes like I knew he would, and he kissed me
again. And the smell...him, clean and male, a refined
animal. The leather's mixing with his scent, it's making me
fucking dizzy, it's so good... Will he think I'm a freak if
I lick the collar of his jacket? I am a freak, do it,
Mulder. Like the man said, quit thinking and do it...
A tongue rasping over well-worn leather, trailing on up to
the back of the neck above it. Groans, one high, one low,
and the thrusting becomes frantic. A hand desperately
reaches. A whimper, and another hand is put in it. The two
hands find the vulnerable hardness, begin to move on it.
One man shudders, shakes violently as he cries out, drawing
an answering cry from the man behind him, feels the
responding quakes. Silence, after the cries, breaths louder
than before, hugely loud in the new quiet.
A reluctant stir, a gasp as the two begin parting. The snap
as latex is tied off, a quiet wet thud as it lands in a
dumpster.
With the light comes finality. Clothing is raised. Body
parts are tucked safely away.
Say something! Anything, make up a word, but speak,
dammit!
"Thank you, Alexi." It's offered humbly, and the first
morning light hits them in the face, just as a last kiss is
offered, and gladly taken.
When it ends, eyes can finally see all. Green stares into
hazel, and both men begin to smile.
"End play." Alex said it softly, and reached out to embrace
his lover. Mulder still looked a little shaky. "Are you
okay, Fox?"
"I'm fine, Alex. I'm just fine. That was perfect, love,
thank you so much."
"You're very welcome. I'm just glad I didn't blow it. God,
Fox, that was amazing. I mean, when you first suggested
this..."
"I know, I thought it was weird, too. But, well, I always
wanted to try and see things from your side, how you felt,
and you said you wanted that, too. We needed to work
through this, Alex, make peace with our past."
"And we did. We buried the hatchet. Right in your ass." A
wicked grin accompanied this, and Mulder returned it.
"Nope, yours, remember. You're the fibbie, I'm the Rat,
you're in the trench, I get the leather, finally..."
"Yeah, you didn't hurt it, did you? That jacket was my best
friend for a long time."
"I didn't hurt your coat, Alex, and my offer for a
professional cleaning still stands."
"Nah. I like it this way. One more question, then we really
should get out of here. Fox, why tonight? Why on
Halloween?"
"Can you think of a better night to slay some demons, and
make a little sex magic?"
Alex's laughter was as bright as the sun shining down on
them.
THE END.
A Hallowed Eve
by Raven
Shit. There he is. Christ, it is him, looks like my
source was telling the truth, for a change. Look at him,
heading straight for the alley. Probably misses the other
rats. Trolling tonight? Doesn't look like you got lucky,
despite the way you wear that black leather jacket and
pants. Okay, do I follow or... What the hell's he doing?
