A few feet away, their coach looked at his two charges.
One was tall, slender and lithe, a born distance swimmer.
His name was Mulder and he was grace personified in the
water, long legs and arms eating up the laps while the
handsome face grew more peaceful with every purposeful
stroke. The kid would lose himself in the swimming and
Skinner had pulled him out of the water by force on more
than one occasion. Still, most meets found Mulder drawing
praise for his devotion, his beautiful form and his lovely
line.
The other kid was shorter, broader, the thicker bunched
muscles telling of speed. Krycek was a pure killer in the
short events and the last leg of any relay. While Mulder
became lovers with the water, Krycek attacked it,
vanquishing it in a blur of strong legs and hips. He loved
competition, thrived on it, but Skinner couldn't ever
recall the boy swimming aside from his training. He wasn't
even sure Krycek liked to swim, but he was damn good at
it. At meets the other racers always gave Krycek his
space, not engaging him with taunts the way they did each
other. Something about the little smile and the hunger in
those green eyes ended any friendly teasing fast.
They were his two best boys, the stars of his program.
They also hated each other passionately.
Skinner looked at them now, checking them over visually
for any damages. Aside from a bruise or two and a couple
of small scratches they looked okay, if wary of him. And
with good reason. Skinner had made it perfectly clear what
would happen to them the next time he found them fighting,
and it wasn't pleasant.
Skinner threw each of them a towel and nodded toward his
office. Mulder wrapped his around his shoulders, the red
speedo he always wore at practice not offering much
against the chill now that he wasn't swimming. Krycek
wrapped his around his waist. His own suit wasn't much
larger than Mulder's, the main difference being the color.
Krycek wore black swim briefs to practice, but the style
and cut were very similar, so it wasn't that he didn't
feel the chill. It was simply that he was remembering what
Skinner had said the week before. A wet towel might offer
dubious protection, but it was still protection.
"Coach Skinner, it wasn't my fault! He started..." Mulder
had, as usual, begun to offer an explanation but Skinner
waved it away.
"Save it, Mulder. My office, now, both of you."
They headed that way reluctantly, and Skinner took a
minute to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to go in
angry, neither boy responded well to anger although, if
you got it just right, Mulder would cave. Of course if you
didn't, there was a prima donna fit to follow. Alex didn't
throw tantrums. No, get angry with Alex and all you got
was a frozen Alex. If he was even aware of your presence
on the earth, you didn't know it. He'd respond where
appropriate, answer respectfully when he should, but it
was pure sham. The real person inside the politely
obedient shell was gone for the duration.
No, anger didn't work on these two, never had, never
would. They required finesse. Skinner hated finesse. His
coaching style had always been simple. Pick a basic, drill
it until it was perfect even in your sleep, then learn
another. After you had all the skills, you worked on speed
and endurance. Simple.
Mulder and Krycek were far from simple. They were also
responsible for the best season Skinner'd ever had since
becoming a collegiate coach, and the Olympic scouts had
begun sniffing around not only his swimmers but him, too.
He grabbed one of the terry robes for each boy and headed
into the office to deal with his two problem children. And
that was exactly how he had to deal with them. They might
be nineteen, but Skinner had figured out long ago that
neither boy had much positive knowledge of a father
figure.
Alex had no father that Skinner could find a trace of and
he'd read the boy's files back to kindergarten. Swimming
had kept the kid off the streets and on the straight and
narrow, but just barely. Alex had never been in serious
trouble, but a look in his eyes showed that his absent
father, troubled mother and lousy neighborhood had taken
their toll. If he hadn't had swimming, Alex would have
been a serious threat to himself and society at large.
Mulder, at first glance, should have been happy. Two
parents, excellent schools and neighborhood, financial
advantages, the works. But a peek under the surface
revealed a hard, cold perfectionist father that seemed to
almost hate his son, a mother that was only there in the
physical sense and a lost sister that all the money in the
world couldn't find. Mulder had been a child that was
lonely to the point of abuse.
And so, Skinner had discovered each boy's weak spot.
Family. Loving, caring parental concern swept past all
their defenses, left Mulder and Krycek both open to
change. But only if the person offering it were sincere.
Skinner had watched one of the assistant coaches attempt
to scold Krycek the way Skinner did. The boy had given the
older man a look that freeze-dried his testicles. It was
one of the few times Mulder had seemed to be in agreement
with Krycek, even making eye contact and sharing an
agreeing nod.
Skinner grinned at the thought, then took a deep breath,
steeling himself for what was to come. He found both boys
where they should be, a nose in opposite corners. Skinner
stepped up behind Krycek, careful to watch the shoulders.
The muscles tensed, then relaxed slightly and Skinner knew
it was now safe to approach him. When he'd first begun to
work with Krycek, he'd made the mistake of just coming up
behind Alex and putting a friendly hand on one shoulder. A
painful elbow to the gut had reminded him that you didn't
just put your hand on a street dog, not unless you wanted
to miss fingers.
"Here, Alex, put your arms in." Skinner helped the boy on
with his robe, letting his hands rest on the shoulders for
just a moment, the faintest of squeezes making the muscles
relax even further.
Skinner then moved behind Mulder. He approached from the
side, moving the robe a bit until he had Mulder's eye. A
second more for comprehension to set in, and then Mulder
extended his arm dutifully. Skinner helped him on with the
robe, then briskly rubbed the slightly skinny arms. You
couldn't touch gently with Mulder, not at first. He needed
a rough touch to pull him out of his own head. Try a rough
touch with Krycek and he'd hand you your head.
These two were going to be the death of him, he just knew
it.
Taking a deep breath, Skinner leaned against his desk,
crossing his arms and eyeing the second hand on the wall
clock. Thirty more seconds should do it. Skinner waited
patiently, silently, eyeing his clothing with a slight
annoyance. He'd gotten coffee on his shirt, he'd have to
change before this afternoon's meeting. He had another of
the buttercream colored short sleeved polo shirts in his
locker and another pair of the white coaching shorts as
well. He might not like the school colors, but at least he
didn't have to wear a tie all day. He hated ties.
The time up, he spoke quietly but firmly.
"Alright, boys, have a seat and we'll see if we can't work
through this."
They took a chair each in front of him while Skinner
continued to stand. When Mulder had pointed out one day
that he only stood in front of them for the psychological
advantage, Skinner had agreed, then had switched places
with Mulder and proved to the sophomore psych major that
he didn't need extra height to be effective. It was the
last time Mulder brought it up.
Skinner looked at Krycek, seeing the usual game face, but
there was a trace of guilt as well. A look at Mulder
revealed a touch of genuine hurt, stronger than usual. It
told him a lot but he needed to hear more.
"What happened out there, boys? You've been doing well
lately, keeping your temper, staying in control around
each other. What happened today?"
Silence. It was a weapon both young men had always used to
good effect. It had no effect on Skinner. He simply waited
them out, knowing that neither youth had his more mature
ability to simply be patient. It took almost ten minutes
this time, a new record. Finally, Krycek swore softly and
sighed.
"It was my fault, Coach. I started it. He pissed me off
and I snapped at him and we ended up fighting."
"I see. Mulder, anything to add?"
"The first punch. I...I threw the first punch. He started
the argument but I started the fight."
"Krycek, response?"
"No, sir."
"Mulder, anything else?"
"No, sir."
Skinner nodded, looking down at the floor, thinking, or
pretending to, for their benefit.
"Very well. The way I see it, you two are equally guilty
of the same thing, just in different ways. Krycek, you
started a verbal fight with Mulder, correct?"
"Yes, Coach."
"And Mulder, you started a physical fight with Krycek?"
"Yes, sir."
"I won't ask what the fight was about, except to ask if it
will affect your ability to work with each other or anyone
else on the team."
Two still wet heads shook and Skinner moved on.
"I'm glad to hear that. I would be happier if my two best
boys could get along with each other. This juvenile need
to hurt each other is dangerous and unacceptable. I care
about both of you, I will not stand by and let you hurt
yourselves or each other, is that understood, boys?"
A subdued acknowledgment came in unison, and Skinner
resumed his gentle scolding.
"I said I won't ask what the fight was about, and I won't.
But I would appreciate it if you would tell me. I want to
help you, I'm trying to help you, but I'm doing this in
the dark and it's easy to make a mistake. If either of you
would tell me, I promise to listen without judging." He
paused, not expecting a response, and was surprised when
he got one.
Mulder, eyes on the ground, fingers picking at the loops
of terry on the robe, asked softly, "Can I tell him?"
That this was addressed to Krycek was obvious, and Skinner
kept his face neutral, very curious as to what the answer
would be.
Krycek, face flushing slightly, took a deep breath,
exhaled slowly and gave a reluctant nod. "Yeah. If you
need to."
"H-he saw me yesterday, with one of the grad students. It
was a date and Krycek saw him kiss me goodbye." Mulder
paused, almost cringing as he waited for Skinner to react
to the fact that he'd been kissing a guy. When no reaction
came, the hazel eyes darted up briefly. Skinner was still
simply listening patiently, and Mulder continued.
"We finished the cool down laps and we were getting out of
the pool when Krycek started it. He called me a fag, said
I should be on the girl's team, that-that I had no place
on the team, swimming for you. H-he said you'd kick me off
if you knew, that I was a health risk. And that you
wouldn't want a fairy on your team anyway."
Tears spilled quietly down and Skinner saw that Alex had
tears in his own eyes, the guilt he'd seen earlier now
showing strongly.
"It-it's not true, Coach Skinner. Yeah, I'm gay, but I'm
not a health hazard. I'm clean. I know, because I'm
still...still a virgin." That this was almost harder for
Mulder to admit than being gay, was obvious by the deep
blush and hesitation before saying it.
The news had an interesting effect on Krycek. The young
man gasped audibly and his head shot up and around,
looking at Mulder with a full spread of emotions on his
handsome face. Skinner noted it and realized what was
going on, really going on with these two. He bit at the
corner of his lip, trying to think, but Mulder was
pleading with him now.
"It's not true, is it Coach, what he said about you not
wanting me on the team? I swear, I've never let anybody
know, I'll keep it a secret. I'm always the first one to
change before practice and the last one after already, no
one has to know why. Please, no matter what you think of
me, don't cut me from the team. I'll stay clean, I'll get
tested every week, whatever it takes. But don't cut me,
please? I need this, Coach. It's all I've got." He
whispered the last with so much raw pain it hurt Skinner
to hear, looking completely defeated and demoralized. He
looked broken.
"I'm not going to cut you from the team, Mulder, I
promise."
Relief left the boy weak and shaking, and Skinner turned
to Krycek. Skinner needed to give Mulder a minute but
couldn't afford to let Krycek have a single minute more.
"Did you mean what you said to him? Is it what you
honestly think and believe?" It was softly asked, and
Krycek clamped his jaws together tightly, shaking his
head.
"No, sir. That's not why I said it. I was just being a
prick, trying to hurt him."
"But did you think I wouldn't accept him because he's
gay?" Skinner had figured out this was key to what had
happened with Krycek, and he was counting on the boy being
brave enough to be honest about it.
"I wasn't sure." The voice was a husky whisper, pain and
confusion warring with shame for the grace notes. "I
didn't want it to be true. I figured you might keep him on
the team anyway, he's the star and his family's got money
and the other coaches like him."
"And what about you?" This time, it was Mulder's turn to
startle, the young man's mind working through the puzzle
now that the crucial piece had been given to him.
Krycek, his usual defenses wrecked by the emotional impact
of what was being said, answered him flatly, a slightly
bitter grin twisting the full mouth.
"What about me? I'm already trouble. I have no family
worth mentioning, no money at all and the rest of the team
hates me. The coaches have asked you more than once to get
rid of me without a reason, what would they do if they
knew I was gay?"
"Alex," Skinner seldom used their first names, an effort
to avoid seeming favoritism, but it was warranted now,
"what would I do if I knew you were gay?"
A slight tremble began in the bottom lip and continued on
to a full quiver. The lashes captured tears as fast as
they could, but they weren't fast enough to catch them
all. With a slight hitch, Krycek took a quick breath and
turned a suddenly very young face up to Skinner. It showed
the full depth of the boy's misery and hurt Skinner the
same way Mulder's anguished whisper had earlier.
"I'm sorry, I know I should know but I don't, not for
sure. I'm too scared. I can't afford to be wrong, Coach, I
don't have anything else, either." He looked over at
Mulder when he said it, and his voice was more sincere
than Skinner had ever heard it.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm sorry I hurt you." Mulder closed
his eyes for just a moment, teeth firmly embedded in his
bottom lip, compassion and distrust flickering across his
face. Then with a sigh, he reached out a hand to Krycek,
facing him with his last ounce of courage.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, too." Krycek hesitated a long
moment, then slowly held his own hand out, taking Mulder's
and squeezing it tightly.
They sat there silently, eyes begging and threatening the
other, apologizing and explaining, thanking and being
thanked, their linked hands a symbol of a far deeper
connection.
Skinner was barely breathing and hadn't dared to move even
an eyebrow, afraid of ruining this precious moment for
them. Finally, after several long moments, they calmed and
Skinner sensed they were ready to get back to him. He
noticed they didn't let go of each other, but knuckles
were no longer white with the force of a desperate grip.
"I'm proud of you both, I want you to know that first and
foremost. You showed me guts, you gave me honesty and you
faced your fears head on, like a man should. I'm very,
very proud of each of you."
This caused the hands to clasp tighter again for a moment
and Skinner knew they'd needed to hear those words from
somebody, anybody for a long time and he was flattered
that they especially needed to hear it from him.
"Neither of you will be cut from the team, I promise. I
might punish you a thousand ways from Sunday but I will
not take the team away from you, you have my word on that,
and I won't let anybody else take it away from you,
either." Skinner paused to focus their attention on his
next words, then made his voice a touch firmer.
"That includes the two of you. If you get caught fighting
you'll be benched, and I am not willing to let that
happen. We discussed this last time, agreed it was simply
unacceptable. I told you if I caught you fighting like
that again, I'd turn you both over my knee. I always keep
my word, gentlemen, and today is no exception. Who's
first?"
"I am." They said it in unison, and Skinner felt the
tension surrounding the three of them break with the
irony. He chuckled, then reached into his pocket, pulling
out a coin.
"Krycek, it's your turn to call."
"Heads." The coin was already flipping when he said it,
and it came up tails. Skinner showed it to each of them,
then adjusted his own position on the desk.
"Come here, Fox." Mulder swallowed hard and, with a last
squeeze of Krycek's hand, obeyed. Skinner had no intention
of spanking long or hard but he had to follow through. It
was why they trusted him, why Mulder had told and Krycek
had let him. Drawing back his hand, Skinner smacked each
lean cheek a dozen times. He spanked firmly but he wasn't
putting anywhere near his full strength into the swats.
It seemed to be enough, judging from the quiet mutters of
pain and the slight squirms coming from Mulder.
"No fighting, Mulder."
"No, sir."
A final, slightly harder slap, and Mulder was stood to his
feet. The young man returned at once to his seat, wincing
a bit but sitting still, the way he was supposed to sit.
Skinner insisted that while they waited for the other to
be spanked, they had to sit still, quiet and they had to
watch.
Krycek was in position as soon as Mulder was seated, not
waiting to be called. Guilt always made Krycek impatient,
and he was feeling very guilty today. Skinner pondered
spanking him harder, knowing he was the real instigator of
their fight, but decided that the young man had suffered
enough. Skinner handed Krycek the same spanking he'd given
Mulder, though he took it better, gave the same caution,
got the same response.
When it was over and Krycek was again standing on his own
feet, not lying across Skinner's broad thigh, the older
man motioned for Mulder to stand as well.
"I usually hug each of you separately. Would it be okay if
I hugged you together today?" Needy emerald met shy hazel,
and both of them managed a small smile as they nodded.
Skinner pulled them both in for a strong hug, smiling
himself as he saw their free arms go around each other. He
held them both for a long time, as long as he dared.
"I care about both of you. I'd be proud to have either of
you for a son, and that's the truth. You're two very fine
young men, I want you to remember that and act
accordingly. Any questions?"
There weren't and Skinner ended the hug, reaching for his
clipboard.
"I have a meeting, I have to go. I'll be back in about an
hour. Lock up when you leave." It was permission to stay
and use his office for some much needed talk, though he
bet they'd share a few kisses before they left as well.
The thought made him smile, even as two deeply grateful
young men reached out to hold each other's hands, their
words of thanks not necessary.
THE END.
Jocks
by Raven
The whistle was loud and it was shrill. It bounced around
the concrete pool area like a rubber ball, echoing and
reverberating until the tiles threatened to crack. But it
worked, the two young men that had been trying to pummel
each other broke apart, knowing what that whistle meant.
