She was gone, and his whole world had crashed, burned, dissolved into
a heap of cold gray ash.
Slouched forward on the couch, elbows propped on knees, mouth pressed
to steepled fingers, he stared at thinning threads of sunlight playing
on the far wall, not moving, scarcely breathing. His eyes felt like two
burned holes in a blanket, but he didn't bother stretching out, trying
to rest.
He was to blame, that he knew beyond question, beyond doubt. If he hadn't
given her that implant, Duane Barry would never have been able to find
her. If that fucking psycho hurt her—
If she ended up dead—
It was on him. All on him—
The sudden knock on the front door sailed through his head like a bullet,
intensifying the sharp throbbing over his left eye. He didn't want to get
up. Maybe if he just sat quietly, whoever it was would finally give up
and go away—
"Hey, Mulder, open up. It's me."
Krycek. God, he couldn't think of anybody he wanted to see less. The
guy'd been stuck to him like a sweaty t-shirt ever since they'd started
working together; hell, if he'd had a tail, he probably would've wagged
it every time Mulder walked in the room. It was flattering in a way, he
supposed, but mostly what he felt was embarrassed—weirdly enough, more
for Krycek than himself. Didn't he realize how obvious he was being?
"C'mon, Mulder, I know you're in there. I saw your car parked down in
the garage."
He groaned, hanging his head.
"I've got news about Scully."
And he was off the couch and at the door in five seconds flat, wrenching
the knob so viciously the brass burned his palm—
But the question burning in his throat stopped there, frozen solid by
the sight of Krycek standing in the hallway, dressed in jeans, plain gray
t-shirt, black leather jacket. It was the first time Mulder'd ever seen
him in anything but a bad suit.
Momentary dizziness rippled through him, his mouth going dry. Jesus,
all this worry about Scully was starting to make him physically sick...
"You gonna make me stand out here all night?" Krycek asked.
He stepped back to let Alex in, shutting the door behind him. "What
is it?"
No answer other than a shrug.
"They found her yet?"
"I lied about that. There's no news."
"Then why the hell did—"
"Got you to open the door, didn't it?" He lifted one hand before Mulder
could snap back his reply, waggling a grease-stained paper bag. "Leftover
Chinese from lunch. Thought you might want to help me finish it." His stunned
incredulity must've shown in his expression, for Krycek added, "c'mon, you didn't eat anything that I could see all day today or yesterday.
You got me worried."
His anger fizzled, dissipated by the genuine concern apparent in Krycek's
stance, in his deep green eyes. His partner had come to offer what moral
support he could in a difficult time, and he'd been just about ready to
throw him out over it...
Get a grip, Mulder...last thing you need right now is to alienate
the only person around who'll listen to your fucked-in-the-head theories
without laughing...at least to your face...
"Yeah, well...thanks for your concern," he mumbled, rubbing a hand through
his hair, "but it's not necessary—"
But Alex had already gone into the kitchen, looking around with puzzlement.
"Don't have one."
"You're kidding—everybody's got a microwave!"
"Well, I don't," he replied, defensiveness creeping into his tone, though
he couldn't quite figure out why. "I'm never home to use one anyway."
"Okay, so we do it the old-fashioned way," Krycek sighed, flicking on
the oven. "It's gonna take about half an hour to heat up, so you might
as well go take a shower and change clothes or...something."
He followed Krycek's line of sight, glancing down at himself, at his
rumpled suit. He'd flung off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves
as soon as he'd hit the couch, but had found it too much of an effort to
make himself more comfortable than that.
Right now, though, the idea of a shower was strangely welcome, even
enticing...
A lot more enticing than staying out here trying to make small talk
with Alex until the food was ready.
"Go on," Krycek said, opening one cupboard, then another, finally finding
clean plates to go with the silverware he already had laid out on the counter,
"I'll take care of everything here."
The sight made the corners of his mouth quirk up. "Anybody ever tell
you you'd make some guy a nice wife, Alex?"
It wasn't the icebreaker he was hoping for, not if Krycek's flinty-eyed,
tight-jawed expression was anything to judge by. The savage tug Krycek
gave the oven door was more than enough to make Mulder sprint for the bathroom,
leaving a trail of shoes and clothing in the bedroom as he went.
He didn't usually shut the bathroom door when he showered, but he did
this time. The hot water smacked into him like a wall of concrete, jarring
him to full awareness at last. Full awareness of everything...
Well, if he'd harbored doubts before, they were now totally shattered.
Alex was suffering from more than just a bad case of hero worship—the
guy had a full-fledged crush on him. Jesus, just what he needed right now...
He didn't know why he found the revelation so stunning. It wasn't the
first time something like this had happened—there'd been a couple guys
back at Oxford, but he'd simply told them he wasn't interested, and that
had been that—
Only thing was, one part of his body belied his claim to no interest
in this particular instance—the part that was slowly stiffening as he
stroked it with one soapy hand, as his mind conjured up an image of Alex
in here with him, under the steamy spray, water slicking that silky-looking
dark hair of his, pouring over his upturned face, down his throat, over
the softly-thrumming pulse there—
He reached for the cold water knob, twisting it all the way, relief
jetting through him as his arousal wilted under the icy blast.
He toweled off, but decided he still didn't have the energy to drag
a razor over his face. Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, he ambled back
into the kitchen with all the ease of a convict being led to the gallows.
The savory aromas wafting in the air helped him unclench a bit inside,
but he bypassed the already-set kitchen table and took a seat on the couch.
He always ate here. If Krycek didn't like it, he could sit at the table
by himself.
There was music playing too, softly, in the background; Krycek must've
turned on the radio. Slouching forward, he ran both hands through hair
still wet and spiky from the shower, letting the music wash over him, into
him...
"Hey."
He looked up to see Alex standing in front of him, plate of food in
hand.
"You hungry now?" he asked.
"Yeah," Mulder replied, taking the plate, setting it down on the coffee
table in front of him, hunching over to start eating. He had no desire
to examine either Alex's question or his answer too closely right now.
He shoveled the food into his mouth, suddenly ravenous, filling the
aching hollowness in his belly, finally pushing the plate away—
"Want some more?"
Mulder looked up with a start; he hadn't realized Alex was still there.
"I'm done," he said, handing back the plate. "Thanks."
"No problem."
The blood had rushed into his stomach, making him drowsy, but he didn't
swing his legs up on the couch, didn't stretch out. Even if he wanted to
sleep, he didn't think he'd be able to; he'd passed into a state way beyond
normal exhaustion a long time ago. Probably the best he could hope for
now was a dazed stupor.
Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to think of nothing...
Until he sensed the couch cushions dipping down on the other side of
him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his numbed mind
he knew it was Krycek's hand, but he still didn't move.
Then the hand started rubbing, kneading Mulder's shoulders, the nape
of his neck, fingertips pressing, working out the knots there. Before long
the other hand joined in, Krycek getting to his knees on the couch, moving
behind him to gain a better grip.
His muscles screamed in protest, but it felt so damned good at the same
time, the tension in his body untwisting by slow degrees, feeling the heat
of Krycek's body so close to his, separated only by two whisper-thin layers
of cotton. Something in Mulder told him he should be recoiling from such intimate contact with another man, but he found he had no will, no
strength left to fight the inevitable...
And the inevitable was happening, right here, right now. He could feel
it, hot, searing arrows of arousal shooting straight to his groin, turning
him rock-hard. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so turned on
with someone else in the room.
The barest touch of two very warm, soft lips on the side of his throat
sent a molten jolt through him, nearly making him come in his pants—
And his eyes met Krycek's, hazel locking on green in the room's fading
early-evening light—
And Krycek's mouth came down on his, subtle as a knife, tongue pushing
roughly between his lips, sweeping inside—
He'd never dreamed another man could taste this good, a hot explosion
of spice and musk smashing into him like a tidal wave, tearing away his
mind's last ragged threads of resistance, stripping him bare—
He felt himself being pushed back lengthwise on the couch, felt the
solid weight of Alex's body coming on top of his, mouth bestowing another
brutal, endless kiss, hands tugging at Mulder's t-shirt, yanking it from
the waistband of his jeans, fingers fumbling at his fly button, easing
down his zipper, reaching inside—
Felt Alex sliding down, then something hot and wet closing over the
tip of his erection, a velvety tongue flicking over him, finally engulfing
him—
Alex's soft, insistent sucking conspired to drive him insane; Mulder
let one hand drift down, tangling in black silk, holding him there, showing
him how he wanted it. He didn't know where his partner'd learned to do
what he was doing, but he knew he'd strangle him if he stopped. Hell, he'd
probably strangle him if he didn't stop—the way Alex was going, it looked
like he was ready to swallow him whole—
And in the next second, that was exactly what he did, his head bobbing
up and down, creating even greater friction, sucking harder, reaching underneath
to cup, roll Mulder's testicles with one hand—
And that was all it took. With a cry torn from the base of his spine,
he went sailing, hurtling headlong over the edge, Alex's mouth still milking
him, swallowing him—
He didn't know how long it was before he finally regained his awareness,
but the first thing he became conscious of was the fact that he was lying
cradled in Alex's arms, his partner's t-shirted front pressed to his similarly-clothed
back. Mulder's hand went straight to his fly, relief sluicing over him when he found his zipper closed. Maybe he'd dreamed
it all...
Yeah, that was it—he'd eaten too much and had fallen asleep here
on the couch and had another nightmare, and Alex was just trying to make
sure he was okay—
To hell with that...c'mon, Mulder, face it...you let another guy suck
you off, and you loved it...
And you want him to do it again...and a few other things besides...
Sitting up abruptly, he scooted down to the far end of the couch, rubbing
both hands over his face.
"You okay?" Alex asked.
This time when he felt his partner's hand on his shoulder, he shook
it off.
"Because...you wanted it, and because I did—"
"You came here for that, didn't you?" he demanded, twisting around to
face the younger man. "You came here to seduce me."
"I came here to bring you dinner. I wasn't expecting to—"
"Bullshit," he rasped, getting up, shoving both hands into his pockets.
"You've been looking at me like I was a rare steak from the second you
got here, so don't tell me this wasn't planned—"
"It wasn't," Krycek shot back, getting up himself, going to the kitchen
table, grabbing his jacket, putting it on, "but I don't suppose anything
I say now'll make you believe that. Jesus, Mulder, after all this time
working together, I thought you trusted me—"
"I don't trust anybody. Especially you."
"You trusted Scully."
Her name coming from Alex's mouth made his hands ball up into fists,
his teeth clench. It took every last shred of his willpower to keep from
grabbing Krycek by the neck of his shirt and throwing him through the nearest
wall. "You leave her out of—"
"Why? Because you feel responsible for what's happened to her?"
"Get out," he snapped, red flashing in front of his eyes. "Get the fuck
out of here right now, I'm warning you—"
"Or what? You're gonna hurt me? Try it," Alex said, his tone half-taunting,
coming toward him, stopping right in front of him, so close he could feel
Alex's breath warm and soft on his face. "You can't, can you? Not after
what we've done."
Their close proximity was starting to do things to him again, hellish
things, tearing him apart in both mind and body. "Just go," he ground out
through gritted teeth. "Get out and leave me alone."
"Alone with your guilt? I don't think that'd be too smart." His hand
came up, cupping the side of Mulder's throat where he'd kissed him earlier,
sliding up, thumb splayed over his cheek. "They'll find her, Mulder. You
can't give up hope yet."
"How do you know?"
"She hasn't been missing that long." Then, with a shrug, "it's just
a feeling."
Weariness came over him then, a dense, knee-buckling rush that left
him suddenly rubbery, boneless. Head tilting forward, he let his forehead
touch Alex's, their mouths scant millimeters from making contact—
"You need sleep," Krycek said, "or you're gonna be useless tomorrow."
Like he'd been today, and the day before that. God, he couldn't remember
a time when he hadn't felt so tired it hurt to think, even to breathe—
"C'mon, Mulder," his partner said, stepping back into the stream of
faint golden light still seeping through the thin white curtains, holding
out his hand, "let's go to bed."
Mulder blinked, shaking his head. For a moment he couldn't help thinking
Alex looked...
Ethereal. Unearthly...
Almost angelic.
It had to be the light, or maybe just the depth of his exhaustion. Either
way, he didn't care. For that brief time on the couch with Alex, he'd found...solace.
Peace. He wanted that feeling again.
He took the proffered hand and followed.
The End...
Angel
by Sugar Rush
Part I
Skinner'd ordered him home for exactly that reason, but he wouldn't,
couldn't, not until they found her...
"Where's your microwave?"
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Or beautiful release
Memories seep through my veins
It may be empty or weightless
Or maybe I'll find some peace tonight...
In the arms of the angel
Far away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here...
"Why'd you do that?"
