by Gaby
Then, one by one, he realized there were odd little quirks going on in regards
to his lover.
The fact that Krycek didn't answer the phone though he should have been home.
The fact that Krycek's cell phone was turned off even though he only did that
when he was meeting with an important client—something Skinner always knew
about so he could rest assured that his lover was safe and sound. Not that they
always told each other every tidbit of their everyday life but they made sure
that the other man knew in general terms what went on.
Krycek was now working as a security consultant trying to hack into his clients'
computer systems—a job the Lone Gunmen of all people got him. He loved the
challenge, and it allowed him to spend most of his time at home, working from
his office there. A few times he had to meet with the clients in person, and
sometimes he hacked his way into their computer systems from within their office
buildings, which forced him to spend some nights away from home. But all in all,
Krycek was at home, happily waiting for a distraction caused by a phone call
from his lover. So, whenever Skinner called their home and only the answering
machine picked up, he was usually able to reach his lover on his cell phone.
Krycek was then most probably running an errand or two, doing the grocery
shopping or going to the post office.
That was something else Skinner had noticed: Krycek was forgetting the grocery
shopping. Not that the big man minded; it was just unusual because for all of
its boredom Krycek absolutely loved doing the grocery shopping. He couldn't get
enough of his newly-found domesticity, and there was nothing more soothing for
him than doing a chore that reminded him of the fact that there was a steady
home waiting for him, that he wasn't on the run anymore. Krycek sometimes got a
little carried away, enthralled by the fact that he was able to stash away more
than a few morsels the way he used to, and Skinner remembered only too vividly
the day he came home to his delighted lover sitting in the kitchen amongst
twenty different brands of cereal, each and every single one of the packages
open, and Frosties, Smacks and Choco Puffs strewn about.
Not that Krycek liked cereal that much—quite the contrary, he thought most of
them tasted quite appalling. But he loved the idea of being able to have all
those different brands ready and waiting for him in the morning, knowing that
there actually would be a next morning for him to enjoy, and not some covert
sneaking- off in the middle of the night.
So, the fact that Krycek had forgotten to do the grocery shopping not once but
twice in one week made Skinner more than suspicious. Still, his lover assured
him that it was just a problem with his latest client's computer system which
was giving him some trouble, and thereby causing him to forget the time and his
chores.
Skinner shrugged the incidents off, not really paying any attention to the
nagging little voice in the back of his head which told him to find out the
real reason why Krycek's cell phone suddenly didn't seem to work though "I had
it on me the whole time, Walter" or why the answering machine picked up even
though "I was home all day, Walter, I swear"...or why Krycek seemed to not be
able to meet his eyes when he told him about the trouble with his laptop which
caused him to not pick up the dry cleaning.
The big man had all but forgotten about these little oddities until a few days
later when he went to retrieve his lover from his home office. Skinner raised a
surprised eyebrow when he realized Krycek had closed the door to his office -
something he never did. Occasionally he left the door ajar in order to not be
disturbed by the ringing phone or the sounds of the TV or the radio from
downstairs...but completely shutting the door? Unheard of.
Skinner knocked on the door and opened it a second later without waiting for a
reply from inside. "Alex, the game starts in a few. Want a beer?"
Krycek looked up guiltily and shoved something into a drawer hastily. "Uh, yeah.
Sure, Walter. Thanks. I'll, uh, I'll be right there." He gave the older man a
beaming smile that somewhat looked more like a grimace, and desperately tried
not to blush.
Skinner just nodded and left the room again, closing the door pointedly behind
him. Desperately trying not to feel betrayed by the fact that even though Krycek
had said he had to work, the laptop was obviously turned off.
Desperately trying to convince himself that what he had seen Krycek grab and
shove into the middle drawer of his desk hadn't been a pile of money.
A huge pile of money.
A huge pile of most definitely hundred dollar bills.
His attempts to talk to Krycek about whatever was obviously going on were shot
down by a terse "I'm fine, everything's okay, stop fussing, Walter." But Skinner
finally snapped one day when Krycek came home rather late from God knew where -
his cell phone had been turned off again—and was obviously surprised, even
shocked, when he saw the older man emerge from the kitchen, towel in hand.
"What...what are you doing here?"
"I live here, Alex," Skinner replied tersely, watching Krycek's eyes dart around
a little panicky. "Where were you?" he asked more gently. "I was worried about
you. It's late. You didn't leave a note, and your cell phone isn't working
again."
"Oh." Krycek bit his lower lip unconsciously, obviously trying to come up with
some kind of excuse. "Yeah, I left it here. Needed to recharge so it wouldn't
have been any help anyway. I just ran some errands and somehow forgot the time.
Sorry, Walter."
The younger man looked so contrite Skinner's heart melted. "It's okay," he said,
moving towards his lover to give him a welcoming hug. "I started dinner. Hope
you're hungry." He was dismayed to realize Krycek tried to fend off his
advances. There was a quick kiss full on the lips but a hug was out of the
question.
"I'll be right back and help you," Krycek mumbled, starting off in the direction
of the stairs. Skinner stared after him for another long moment, wondering why
his lover still hadn't shed his leather jacket.
Then he saw the tell-tale bulge in the small of the younger man's back. He was
obviously packing.
Fuming, Skinner turned around and went back into the kitchen, watching out of
the corner of his eyes how Krycek furtively snuck down the hallway towards
Skinner's den—obviously ignoring the stairs after all—and listening to the
younger man depositing his weapon in the gun safe there.
Damn him, Skinner thought. First the money, now the gun. No wonder Krycek spent
every other night in front of his laptop working on some computer system or
other when he was obviously busy in his old job as assassin during the day.
No, the big man decided, there had to be a logical explanation for all this.
There had to be a different reason for Krycek having to work such odd hours.
For Krycek stashing away huge amounts of cash. For Krycek running around with a
weapon—something he had promised Skinner he would never do again.
If only Krycek would tell him.
But even after almost directly asking him over dinner, the younger man feigned
ignorance and resolutely changed the subject.
Skinner was busy scanning the newspaper for reports about mysterious dead bodies
- knowing full well that Krycek was professional enough not to leave any
evidence, and feeling guilty about even thinking his lover would do such a thing
- when the phone rang.
Krycek had left their home to meet with a client, decked out in suit and tie
looking good enough to eat, so the big man answered the phone. It was Lenny,
Krycek's boss of sorts, the man who got him the clients. "Sorry, Lenny, Alex is
out meeting this Carlson guy," Skinner replied when the other man asked to talk
to Krycek.
"Oh. Right. I knew that." Lenny sighed. "That's why his cell was turned off. No
wonder I couldn't reach him. Look, I need a CD Rom Alex promised to send me. He
probably just forgot about bringing it over but there's some important data on
it. Could you go take a look? See if it's still around? Because if it is, I'll
happily drop by and get it myself."
Skinner shrugged mentally. He was allowed to enter Krycek's home office; he had
helped his lover out on more than one occasion that way already. "Sure," he
mumbled, climbing the stairs to Krycek's den. "What am I looking for?"
"It's your average CD Rom. Name is 'Devil's Advocate.' And no, I dunno why Alex
would call his new program like that," Lenny added chuckling.
Skinner grinned. His lover had a thing for truly weird names. "Okay, I'm in the
inner sanctum now," he reported. "Hang on a minute and I'll see if I can find
anything." He started to rummage around the desk.
"Listen, Lenny? Could you do me a favor? Alex has been working his ass off
lately for you. I mean, he's hardly ever spending a night in bed anymore, always
sitting in front of his laptop, trying to find that one weak link in your
clients' computer systems. Don't you think he deserves a little break?"
The other man gave a surprised snort. "A little break? What are you talking
about, Walt? Alex asked me to cut down on his work load a few weeks ago. He's
basically only doing a part-time job now. Don't ask me to give him even less
work! He's my best man! I can hardly survive with him doing so little already!"
Skinner's eyebrows shot up. Krycek, doing a part-time job? What was he doing
all day then? The big man sighed. "Sorry I asked, Lenny. Guess I'm just a little
cranky because he sneaks into bed in the middle of the night and manages to wake
me up with his cold feet every single damned time."
Lenny chuckled, and Skinner heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that the other man
wouldn't mention that part of the conversation to Krycek. What his lover was
doing made no sense to him whatsoever but he sure didn't want to have any
arguments with him about interfering with his life.
The big man came up empty after searching the entire desktop so he shrugged and
opened the bottom drawer, knowing Krycek kept some of his disks, DAT tapes and
CD Roms in an old and battered shoe box there. He was surprised to find not one,
but two of them. "I think it's getting warmer," he kept up the running
commentary for Lenny's sake, and grabbed one of the boxes, placing it on the
desktop and opening it. What he saw inside made him gasp out loud.
There was money. A lot of money.
Several thick envelopes bursting with stacks of bills as well as loose bills
scattered all over the shoe box. There had to be several tens of thousands of
dollars. Wide-eyed, Skinner reached for yet another envelope, the only one with
something written on it—"Alex" it said in beautiful and obviously female
handwriting. There were one hundred dollars in ten dollar bills inside as well
as a sheet of paper. Unfolding it, Skinner stared at what was written on it with
trembling hands.
The same female handwriting, he concluded, looking at the list of dates and
times that had been jotted down. Underneath, the same person had written, "Dear
Alex, I can't thank you enough for joining us. You and your talents have saved
me and my Rose Garden. Sorry I can't spare more money but this should at least
cover your expenses. You're the best, handsome. Love, Charlene"
Skinner stared unseeingly at the note, then realized that at the top of the page
there was "The Rose Garden" printed in an intricate, old-fashioned way, with one
single red rose winding its way in and around the R of 'Rose.'
Talents? Alex's talents? Skinner's mind went a mile a minute. All that money,
combined with the fact that his lover was gone for hours on end...no, that was
most definitely not some kind of hit job...but from the looks of it...Skinner
couldn't bring himself to even imagine it but...what if this Rose Garden was
some kind of...Krycek had been forced to whore himself during his Consortium
years, after all, and the big man knew from personal experience that his lover
had some incredible talents in that regard...so what if... Skinner mentally
shook himself. No. His lover would never betray him. Not ever. Then again...this
list of dates and times...there were about three days each week, two or three
hours each day, mostly in the afternoon, sometimes in the morning, on occasion
in the evening...Skinner remembered some of those days, when Krycek got home,
flushed and looking slightly guilty, refusing to be kissed and cuddled, mumbling
about wanting to take a shower first... Skinner's eyes widened in realization.
Why would anyone want to take a shower before giving his lover a welcome home
kiss? Because they felt dirty? Because they smelled like someone else? So he
hadn't imagined the smell of perfume on some of his lover's shirts. And why else
would Krycek suddenly have so much money if not by earning it the hard way, pun
most definitely intended.
The big man was vivid.
"Walt? Walter? You still there?"
Skinner shook himself and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Uh, yeah,
Lenny. Sorry. Hang on another minute." He opened the second box and found what
he had initially been looking for: lots of CD Roms. After rummaging around for a
bit he came up with something. "Is it a white one with green script?" he asked.
When Lenny mumbled in the affirmative, Skinner put the CD Rom aside. "Come and
get it whenever you find the time, Lenny. I don't know when Alex will be back
but I'm home all day."
"Thanks, Walt. I'll be there in about an hour or so."
They said their good-byes and hung up. Skinner stashed everything back where it
belonged, taking one last look at the sheet of paper from this Charlene person.
There was one date that Alex had obviously crossed out—Skinner could tell it
had been his lover because the note was written in black and the date was
crossed out in a specific green that only Krycek ever used. Skinner frowned and
then realized that the date was next Thursday—Valentine's Day.
How sweet, he jeered. Let's not whore yourself on Valentine's Day. That would be
against the spirit of that day, wouldn't it?
He had half a mind to crumble the piece of paper and throw it into the trash but
decided that was the stupidest thing he could do. Instead, he left the room
exactly as he had found it, wondering how to best solve his problem.
The first thing Krycek did when he got home was tug off his tie. "I hate formal
wear," he groused, throwing the suit jacket over the back of a chair.
Skinner grinned behind his newspaper. "Mrs. Finch thinks you look handsome," he
replied.
Krycek stopped short. "Oh?" he asked carefully, as if not entirely sure where
this was leading.
"Oh yes. I ran into her a few minutes ago when I took out the trash, and she
told me she had seen you leave this morning. She thinks you're stunningly
beautiful." He grinned again. "Not that I blame her."
The younger man grimaced. "She's old and half-blind," he argued.
Mrs. Finch was their next door neighbor, a sweet old lady who adored Krycek. He
had helped her set up a computer so she could exchange emails with her various
grandchildren who were strewn all across the country, and she loved him for it.
Skinner hadn't been aware of any other interactions between his lover and their
sweet neighbor, but he raised a suspicious eyebrow when Krycek asked, "Did she
say anything else?"
"No. Why? Is there anything specific she should have mentioned?"
"Uh, no. No, not at all. Nothing. Just, uh, just wondering." Krycek blushed a
little, and gathered his briefcase. "I, uh, I'll go upstairs and change into
something a little more comfortable now," he muttered.
Skinner's eyes narrowed slightly. Something was most definitely wrong. Still, he
decided to play dumb. "Oh, Lenny called. He was looking for some CD Rom."
"Damn! The 'Devil's Advocate' one, right? Shit, I forgot to give it to him."
Krycek sighed. "I'll drop it off once I've changed into some sweats and-"
"No need, Alex. He already picked it up."
"He did?" Now it was Krycek's turn to narrow his eyes suspiciously. "How did he
know where to find it?"
"He didn't. I went and looked for it. Why? I thought it was okay for me to enter
your office."
Krycek went red—whether he was blushing guiltily or turning scarlet with anger
Skinner couldn't tell. "No, of course I don't mind. It's just...uh, well...did
you...did you find it without problems?"
"No problems at all. It was on your desk, buried under some files." Skinner
grinned and winked conspiratorially. "Why? Are you hiding some dead bodies in
your closet?"
Krycek gave a nervous laugh which marked him just as much as a 'guilty as hell'
sign right over his head. Skinner's answering chuckle was just as strained.
"Well then. I, uh, I'll go and change then," Krycek mumbled, starting for the
stairs.
"Oh, one more thing, Alex," Skinner called after him. Krycek turned around
expectantly. "I'm sorry but the Director called while you were away. There's an
emergency meeting next Thursday evening so I don't know when I'll be home. I
hope I can cut it short but somehow I have a feeling that it's gonna be a long
night."
Krycek's face fell. "But next Thursday is...is..."
Skinner feigned ignorance. "What? What about next Thursday?"
His lover's face fell even more. So, the older man didn't even know it was
Valentine's Day, huh? "Nothing, Walter. Never mind. I'll go change now." And
with that, Krycek trudged upstairs.
Skinner grinned. If all went to plan, his lover should be on the phone right
about now, so the big man got up and slowly made his way towards the stairs.
And, just as he had suspected, he heard Krycek's voice talking to a "Charlie"—was that the short version for Charlene?—telling him—her?—that yes,
despite what he had said earlier he would be available on Valentine's Day.
Great, Skinner thought. Now all he had to do was find out where exactly this
Rose Garden was, and then his lover would celebrate a Valentine's Day like he
never thought possible.
It was easier to find out where this Rose Garden was than Skinner had thought.
He traced the last phone call from Krycek's cell to this Charlie person and had
the FBI provide him with the matching address to said phone number.
So, when Valentine Day came around, Skinner drove to the address, not entirely
sure what he was going to find—or what he was going to do once he was there—
and whistled softly when he stopped his car in front of an old mansion, one that
had seen better days but was still well maintained. Turn of the century, Skinner
concluded, staring at the white front of the three story building, admiring the
beautifully carved pillars, the intricately wrought iron fence surrounding the
front porch. There were several bushes with wild roses in the front yard, and a
small golden plate directly under the door knocker proclaimed that "The Rose
Garden" was to be found inside.
Taking a deep breath, Skinner used the knocker and wondered if high-class
brothels actually looked like this. The very next second he felt a pang of guilt
for even considering that possibility. No, he admonished himself sharply, no
matter how incriminating the evidence was, there had to be a different
explanation for his lover's weird behavior, the money, the secrecy...
The door opened and revealed a middle-aged woman who looked a little like a
maid. Skinner's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he suddenly realized he had no
idea what he should say. After a long, awkward moment he muttered, "Is Charlene
in?"
"Charlie?" The elderly woman broke out into a friendly smile. "Why, yes, of
course. This way." She pointed Skinner down the hallway and closed the front
door. Then she led the big man to a half-open door and knocked on it. "Charlie?
Here's someone to see you," she said to the person inside, giving a knowing wink
that utterly confused Skinner, before she left him alone with the enigmatic
Charlie person.
Skinner had to admit that Charlene was by far the most beautiful woman he had
ever seen. Even though she must be pushing forty she looked no older than
thirty, had long, curly blond hair, a stunning body and winning smile. The big
man was more confused than ever. Did a pimp look like that?
"Hello, my name's Charlene but you can call me Charlie if you like," his host
introduced herself, getting up from behind her desk and extending her hand. "So,
are you interested in being an escort?" she asked when Skinner continued to
remain silent. That question, however, caused him to choke audibly, his eyes
bulging out. One thing for sure, he concluded, that woman didn't waste any time!
So, 'escort' was what it's called these days, huh?
"Escort?" he croaked, still a little thrown off-balance by her forwardness.
"Well, I admit you don't look like the typical escort but..." Charlie gave him a
once-over that caused Skinner to blush. "Pardon me for saying so, but you've got
one hell of a bod and, from the way you walk, I think you've also got the right
moves."
This time, Skinner's choking turned into a helpless sputtering. That woman
wasn't forward, she was a fucking steamroller! "I want to see Alex," he managed
to mutter.
"Alex? That is highly unusual." Charlie shook her head, obviously confused. "Why
would you want to see Alex? We don't have enough men to begin with, and call me
old- fashioned but I think you still need a man and a woman to do the sort of
thing we do around here..."
She gave a terrified little squeak when Skinner lunged at her. "Fine, fine," she
babbled, desperately trying to calm the big man. "You want Alex, you get Alex.
Just don't think the others will be too thrilled when they have to watch you
whisk away their favorite boy."
It was all Skinner could do not to slowly and painfully squeeze that woman's
throat until her neck snapped in two, and Charlie made sure to lead the fuming
man down the hallway towards the room she knew Alex was in.
Skinner stormed ahead and pushed the double-winged doors open with so much force
that they crashed into the walls. Everyone inside the room stopped what they
were doing and turned around to stare at the person who had interrupted them.
Skinner, in return, stared back with shock written all over his face.
There were about two dozen elderly people milling about, all decked out in their
Sunday's finest—among them Mrs. Finch, the next door neighbor...and Alex
Krycek, wearing a tux and a really stupid look on his face.
"Walter?" he asked hesitantly after a long moment.
"Alex? Alex, what are you doing here?" Skinner growled, desperately trying to
ignore the fact that he was the one who had no right being there. His lover
was obviously still too shocked by the big man's presence to reply, so Mrs.
Finch came forward, smiling at Skinner.
"Alex has been helping us out, Walter," she happily informed him. Skinner looked
around what was obviously a huge ballroom of sorts, the hardwood floors perfect
for dancing, a piano standing in one corner, a few chairs and small tables
scattered around the periphery of the room. Only then did he realize that there
was music playing in the background. From the way most people were standing
around in couples, it was obvious they had been happily waltzing away right
until the moment he deemed to storm in and disturb them.
"Ever since my Henry, God bless his soul, passed away three years ago I came
here to dance with my friend Joseph. You must've met him once or twice, Walter,"
Mrs. Finch went on, oblivious to Skinner's confusion. He nodded automatically,
his brain providing a face to the name. "Well, Joseph broke his hip a few weeks
ago so he couldn't accompany me anymore. Dancing is all I have left though and,
when I told Alex about my problem, he was kind enough to fill in for Joseph."
She gave Krycek a beaming smile. "He's such a natural, Walter, you wouldn't
believe it. That boy has moves you've never seen!" Mrs. Finch suddenly smirked
very unladylike and gave Skinner a wink. "Well, maybe you do," she added,
chuckling.
Charlie, who had been trying to decipher what was going on, suddenly understood.
"Oh, you are Walter," she exclaimed. "Alex's Walter!" She smiled broadly. "I'm
so glad to finally meet you. I've begged Alex to bring you along for the longest
time but he kept saying you couldn't be bothered."
Skinner's head shot up at that, and he glared at his lover. "I couldn't be
bothered?" he echoed.
Krycek walked up to the big man, trying to keep the conversation as private as
possible. "I just thought you'd laugh at me if you found out," he mumbled
towards the floor. "It was supposed to be a one time deal, until Joseph was well
again. But the other ladies were so taken with me..." Krycek shrugged helplessly
as if he didn't understand the phenomenom himself. "There are more ladies than
gentlemen...anyway...so I'm trying to fill in whenever I can. I mean, this is
such a great place for everyone. It all began when Charlie's mom got together
with her friends to play bridge once a week and somehow more people started
dropping by and there was enough room to give dancing a try, and they even have
an art class now, Walter, and since her mom passed away Charlie's doing all the
work and she's just created a drama club which is great fun and they're doing
charity stuff as well and..." Krycek realized he was babbling and shut his mouth
with an audible snap. He bit his lower lip and, staring at the floor, mumbled,
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just...I dunno..."
"You were embarrassed?" Skinner asked gently and couldn't help smiling when he
saw his lover blush and nod his head. "But why, Alex? I think it's wonderful.
You're doing something special and worthwhile. Not a whole lot of people could
be bothered either way. I can understand why the ladies wouldn't let you go."
Skinner laughed out loud when Krycek's blush deepened.
"Yes," Mrs. Finch piped up, sidling up to Krycek and pinching his cheek. "He's
just as cute as a button. We all love him dearly." Skinner was sure his lover's
head would explode any minute from the shade of red it now sported.
"Okay, but tell me one thing, Alex. The money. Where's it from?"
Krycek looked up, surprise written all over his face. Then he realized his lover
wasn't stupid and had probably known for a good while. "They don't trust banks
and such," he muttered, giving a vague nod towards the assembled group of
elderly people. "They know I've got connections. They know I have some inside
knowledge. They want me to take care of their finances." He shrugged. "No dirty
money, Walter. Get your mind out of the gutter." Krycek gave a slightly forced
grin but Skinner was relieved to see his lover slowly relax.
"What about the gun, Alex? You were packing the other day."
This time, Krycek didn't even bother to look surprised. He merely shrugged.
"Edgar over there is interested in buying a gun for protection. There have been
some burglaries going on in his neighborhood, and he asked for my advice. I took
my Walther PPK and showed it to him. That's all."
Skinner looked over to before mentioned Edgar, a mountain of a man, his white
teeth gleaming in his ebony-colored skin which wrinkled heavily when he broke
out in a welcoming grin. "Don't you dare come down too hard on that boy," Edgar
threatened with a mock-growl. "Or you'll have to take it up with us!"
Several people nodded and began to surround Skinner who envisioned himself being
beaten into submission with walking aides. He smiled. It was obvious that his
Alex was in good hands here.
"I'm so sorry, Alex, for ever doubting you," he said contrite. "I promise I'll
talk to you the next time you worry me."
Krycek gave his lover a mock stern look. "See that you do," he growled in a fair
imitation of the big man.
"But you have to promise me to talk to me as well, and not give me any crap when
I do ask you," Skinner implored. "What I did was wrong, I admit that, but you've
lied to me when I asked you what was going on, Alex."
"Yeah, I know. Sorry," Krycek mumbled, staring at the floor. "Won't happen
again."
Mrs. Finch glared at the younger man, totally aghast. "Were you ashamed of what
you are doing here, Alex? Of the joy you continue to give us?"
"God, no, Fiona! I just...I was just..." Krycek sighed deeply. "I guess I was
just really stupid."
"Well, that goes without saying," Mrs. Finch nodded, taking matters into her own
hands. "Well then, seems to me that we have two lovebirds here who need to
reconnect. No better time than Valentine's Day to accomplish that, right?"
Skinner blushed furiously. Even though Mrs. Finch knew about his relationship
with Alex, he figured the others didn't and, speaking from his own experience,
most elderly people weren't really open-minded towards same- sex couples. He
shouldn't have worried though because everyone present seemed to be so
enthralled with their Alex that they would accept just about anything. Krycek's
reluctant but brilliant smile told him as much.
"I think we've got something slow and romantic somewhere in here," Charlie
happily informed the group, rummaging through a stack of CDs.
A few seconds later, the first notes of a soft love song were floating around
the room, and Skinner stepped up to his lover, opening his arms invitingly.
Krycek fell into the embrace happily, snuggling close to the big man, and they
began to sway to the music, oblivious to everything and everyone except the
other man's presence.
"You look beautiful, Alex," Skinner whispered into Krycek's ear. "I didn't even
know you owned a tux."
"As you found out today, I'm full of surprises," the younger man whispered back,
a smile breaking out on his face. "And once I've got you safely back home, I
intend to prove to you just how much."
The answering blush on Skinner's face and the obvious love and affection between
the two men caused everyone present to smile. "Men," Mrs. Finch whispered in
mock exasperation to Charlie who chuckled knowingly. "These two make such a
wonderful pair but I swear to you, sometimes all I want to do is smack them."
"Maybe you should, Fiona, maybe you should," Charlie replied, winking.
"You know what?" Mrs. Finch commented, smiling warmly when she watched Krycek
giving his lover a chaste but affectionate kiss. "I probably will." She leaned
in close to the younger woman and whispered conspiratorially in her ear,
"They're just so lost without me."
t first, Skinner didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary.
