DEEP PLAY, Part I:  OUT OF BOUNDS
by Jeylan

Part 4
See part 0 for header information.


The memory of her the way she was that night was something Mulder 
guarded tightly to his heart, and would never speak aloud.  He 
sometimes wondered if Scully herself remembered it, but was 
pretty confident she didn't.  Scully repressed a lot, and this 
was exactly the kind of thing she couldn't afford to let herself 
remember and still keep being Scully.  

"I never said there were no moves made," he equivocated 
carefully.  "What makes you think she'd have me?"

"Does she have eyes and a mind?"
  
Listlessly Mulder shrugged.  "We're a good team," he said.  
"Scully's great.  I love Scully."  He didn't want to talk about 
her anymore.  His gaze came to rest on a muscular guy in T-shirt 
and jeans at a nearby table who was tipped back in his chair with 
his legs splayed, laughing and watching his date with greedy, hot 
eyes.  His date was a young, graceful prima donna of a boy, eyes 
flashing, head tossing, and it seemed to Mulder just barely 
possible that the boy really might have said something witty 
enough to warrant the enthusiastic way the older man was 
laughing. 

The back track of his imagination ran wild, without his volition, 
and he found himself toying with an image of the couple in bed.  
For one vertiginous moment he ached to know what it must be like 
to be that man, laughing, or that boy, making him laugh.  He was 
hungry to know it.  To know what they each expected, and where 
they met, what it would feel like to kiss those mouths, kiss 
*with* those mouths, and how it would be to have the kind of life 
where the first priority was getting laid... 

How would it be, for example, if this were for real right now 
with Skyler?  What would it feel like to look across the table at 
another man and think of sex, wonder all the odd, forbidden, 
intimate imaginings one always wondered, on a first date--  

His curiosity was simultaneously caught, and repelled.  He *knew* 
Skyler, knew him well and deeply.  Knew him by instinct, as only 
a man can know another man.  It felt weird to even begin to try 
to imagine thinking of Skyler in a sexual way --  visualizing him 
naked, hard, turned on, fantasizing what he would smell like, 
taste like, what sounds he might make and whether --

Grabbing for his wine, Mulder drank.  Overactive imagination or 
no overactive imagination, he really had to stop thinking this 
shit now.  It was an old familiar companion, this impulse to look 
through other eyes and feel through other skin, this urgent 
temptation to let himself imagine himself someone else, just for 
a moment, just for a night...  But he really had to stop 
imagining what it would feel like if ... if this were a real 
date.  If he were really attracted to Skyler.  It wasn't, of 
course, and he wasn't.  Was he?

He glanced back at the couple at the next table.  If he were one 
of them, everything would be so much easier...  "Looks pretty 
good to me," he muttered.  

This mood could get him in trouble, if he let it.  Yep, could 
definitely get him in trouble.

"Easy for you to say," Skyler said dryly, and sipped his wine. 

And then Mulder swung his focus, and looked at Skyler.  Really 
looked at him.  "I should be so lucky," he said, "to have nothing 
but sex on the brain."  He felt his voice slip deep and noticed 
the quiet suggestions sliding in between uninflected words.  He 
let it happen.    

Skyler looked startled, and then he smiled.  "Not getting enough?  
Why don't you let me help you with that?"

Mulder just laughed.

"I'd need your cooperation, of course."

"Yeah, yeah," Mulder said, still laughing.  "In your dreams." 
This was familiar banter.  Mulder felt his muscles relax a little 
more, even as his awareness sharpened. 

//What if...?//  A dangerous question, 'what if.'  Like all the 
other speculations in his life, this too threatened to tip him 
off course.  What if he bumped his foot against Skyler's foot 
right now?  What if he held this eye contact just a little 
longer?  What if they openly held hands across the table, and 
gazed into each other's eyes?  What then?  

It seemed too silly to contemplate, and he knew he should push 
the frivolous thoughts away.  But he couldn't, really, because he 
was too intensely aware that in this place at this time his was 
the minority opinion, and no one else here would find anything at 
all odd about what he was thinking. 

So what if he did let himself be someone else, or some other part 
of himself, just for one night?  Let himself stray, slip, detour 
see through other eyes, what then?  How far could he go?  What 
would he feel?    

"My dreams, or yours?" Skyler asked.  

Mulder's heart beat faster.  He chuckled again, nervously.  It 
felt like Skyler'd read his mind.

He didn't have to be gay to notice that his friend was a handsome 
man.  He was vital and dynamic, flexible in his thinking, with a 
keen intelligence, ability to go with the flow, practiced social 
skills, a fascinating, convoluted, shadowy career, a dry, 
sophisticated sense of humor, and good taste in clothes.  He had 
the gift of looking at everyone he met as if they were the person 
at the center of the universe.  If Skyler were a woman...  Wow, 
if he were a woman, he would be worth risking everything, the 
kind of woman Mulder barely dared to fantasize about.  And if 
that woman, that imaginary Skyler-woman were sitting across the 
table from him now, looking at him like this--  No doubt at all 
how he'd be feeling.  No doubt what he'd be planning, hoping, 
with his heart in his throat...
 
Despite his best intentions, he let his awareness drift a little 
on the wine and expand out to include not just himself, not just 
his responsibility for his end of the conversation, his words, 
his expressions, and what he was doing with his hands, but widen 
to embrace a consciousness of Skyler, too.  It wasn't an 
intellectual process, was in fact mostly subconscious; he just 
"felt" Skyler.  Felt where the tension was in him, and which 
muscles were relaxed.  Paid attention to the minutest flickers of 
shifting stress around his eyes, and in the irises of his eyes, 
and whether he was happy or not, and if he was maybe a little 
turned on for real instead of only playing.    

"So all these men," Mulder said, feeling giddy with drink,  
"These slightly hypothetical men you sleep with sometimes...?  
What do you want from them that they're not giving?" 

A slight smile in Skyler's eyes, tired, honest, aware -- barely a 
flicker of a smile -- and with it a silent acknowledgment: 
//Touche, the right question.//   

"Passion," Skyler answered very quietly, looking steadily into 
Mulder's eyes.  "It's always passion.  I don't mean passion for 
sex; that's easy.  I mean passion for *life.*  That's what I want 
from men.  And I don't find it often."

Mulder breathed in deep, involuntary.  He nodded, just barely, 
just once.  Looked down.  Looked up.  Met Skyler's eyes again.  
"I know exactly what you mean," he said quietly.  

Skyler broke the eye contact first, looking around the room and 
tipping two fingers in the air to signal the waiter.  He watched 
as Skyler handed over a credit card, watched the way the waiter 
smiled at him, and the comfortable way their eyes loitered 
together.  It wasn't how he was used to seeing men look at each 
other.  Skyler's body was long, lithe, a runner's body, more 
filled out than he had been at 19 but still athletic and trim.  
Was that what the waiter saw?  Was that all he saw? 

"You should let me pay it," he said, several beats too late.  
Skyler just looked at him curiously, and didn't bother to answer.  

And the shocking little temptations were starting to whisper in 
the back of his mind.  He could feel them.  Had felt them before, 
in fact, but always shoved them away before...

The waiter, doting, hurried back with the receipt for Skyler to 
sign, but Skyler disappointed him by glancing only at Mulder when 
he signed it. 

"Thank you for wining and dining me," Mulder said, because he 
couldn't resist.  

Skyler smiled a wryly.  "Any time, babe."  

=================================================

Skyler wanted to laugh out loud just for joy, or compose all the 
emotion off his face before Fox could turn and see it there.  He 
felt wired, pumped, an eager energy running under his skin daring 
him to do something crazy -- grab Fox and kiss him, here in the 
street--  Or reach for his hand, except he didn't want to spook 
him.  

He was afraid Fox would stop flirting, and afraid he wouldn't 
stop.  Afraid that one of them would take it too far, or not far 
enough.  He dreaded the idea of returning alone to his empty 
apartment with its bare walls, one more place which passed for 
home and yet was not home, just as no place and everyplace was 
home.  He'd handed over the disk, done what he set out to do, and 
he should really call a stop to this, walk away, but somehow he 
couldn't.  It felt too good to be with Fox again, and like a 
junkie Skyler couldn't talk himself out of it even though he knew 
he'd pay later -- and pay a higher price, the more fun he had 
tonight.  

He couldn't live this way, god he couldn't live this way.  But 
Fox caught his eye, smiling that endearing smile of his, and 
Skyler knew he couldn't *not* live this way.  Too many nights he 
had fallen asleep wishing for the tones of this voice, nights 
spent cradled in other men's arms, maybe, or his own arms, but 
thinking of Fox.  The puppy-love that wouldn't die.  The one 
other soul that drew him in so hard and so deep he never wanted 
to come up for air ever again, the only man he couldn't make 
himself forget -- and he had to be straight.  

He was too old for this, should know better, had known better 
yesterday and last week and all the hours in between spent 
obsessing over this meeting, exhorting himself to keep his head, 
keep his heart.  

"So, uh, what do you wanna do now?" he found himself saying, 
stupidly.

"Suggest something."

Jittery excitement bunched and clogged in Skyler's chest, in his 
throat.  He glanced sideways at Fox's calm, unreadable face, 
wondering if he'd heard right.

"Well, uh, I don't know if you'd like my suggestions," he said.  
He was trying for smart-ass but sounded to his own ears mostly 
just nervous, and he realized he was staring.  Hoping for a clue.

"What would you normally do now," Fox said, glancing quickly into 
his eyes and then away again, "if this were--" he shrugged-- 
"--you know--?  If we were--"

"Uh," Skyler said, "uh--"  And there was trouble ahead, coming 
their way.  Lonnie and Liza.  "Crap," he muttered.

"Uuuh!  Skyler, darling!" Liza's voice shrilled from half a block 
away.  "Lonnie, it's Skyler!  Where have you been hiding 
yourself, you bad girl, we've missed you!  Haven't we, Lonnie?"

Lonnie and Skyler's eyes met, sharing the fast understanding of 
old friends.  Lonnie was wearing what he called his "male drag" 
tonight, and when Lonnie was in men's clothes -- which was most 
of the time, these days -- he didn't make any attempt to compete 
with Liza.  He just slipped back peacably into the shadows, a 
long, tall, soft-spoken black man, with gentle eyes.  

Liza, on the other hand, was, as ever, Liza.  And she did it 
well.  Sighing, Skyler resigned himself to the inevitable.  Goons 
behind, drag queens ahead, and Fox Mulder skittish, flirting and 
wholly desirable at his side.  He squeezed his eyes tight shut 
just for a second, drew a deep breath, and put on a smile for 
Liza.  

Mulder was just trying to take it all in. Lonnie was a long, 
tall, soft looking black man, with an easy, warm smile.  Liza was 
small and curvy, balanced precariously on top of high stiletto 
heels.  Great legs.  Eye-catching legs.  She had a jiggle in her 
walk, a sensual sway and swing that must have gone out of fashion 
when Mulder was still a kid, or maybe before he was born.  Her 
eyes were enormous.  There was something -- off -- about her, 
though...  It took a few seconds to register--

Liza had draped herself around Skyler's neck, kicking one heel up 
in the air to kiss Skyler's cheeks, and then wiping away the 
lipstick marks with her thumbs.  Largish thumbs, for a woman, 
with long, green-painted nails.

Then she turned to him.  She batted false eye-lashes, and smiled 
a coy, innocent smile.  "Enchanted," she said, and presented her 
hand to be kissed.

Mulder bent obediently over the hand, because it seemed to be 
expected.  "Divine Decadence?" he asked, with his lips close to 
the soft, pale knuckles.  

"A fan!  Oh, Skyler, the boy's a fan!  Where did you find him, 
he's delicious!"

Mulder glanced to Skyler for support and didn't try to explain 
that he wasn't a fan, and had, in fact, only seen the movie once, 
but it was after all an Academy Award winning film, so of course 
he'd seen it.  Mostly he just stared at Liza.  She had an Adam's 
apple and real cleavage.  He'd noticed the cleavage, and now it 
wasn't as if he could just stop noticing, just like that.  He 
felt paralyzed, helpless to look away.  She was beautiful, and 
alluring, and somehow cloying all at the same time.  Her eyes 
were too dilated.  Stoned on something.  Higher than a kite.

"We've been wondering where you were keeping yourself, Skyler, 
darling.  I told Lonnie last week, didn't I Lonnie, that bad boy, 
I said, Skyler's found himself a new toy-boy and he's not 
sharing."

"He's not my--" Skyler tried to say.

Liza attached herself to Mulder's waist, snuggling in close to 
his body under his arm.  She smelled of talcum and must, and some 
spicy perfume that had tired and gone sweet.  "Now we want to 
hear all the dirt, love," she said to Skyler.  "Where have you 
*been?*  We've been feeling neglected, haven't we, Lonnie?"

Skyler sighed.  "I'm sorry, Liza, I've been really busy--"

"Well, I can *see* that!"  She gave Mulder's waist a quick 
squeeze.

"Liza, no, he's just a *friend.*  He's not--"

"He's not?"  She fluttered long lashes up at Mulder, 
appraisingly.  And then she turned, squeezed his thigh between 
her thighs, and wiggled.  He could feel her genitals, pressing 
against his leg.  A man's genitals.  She brushed her long green 
nails over his lips.  "Oh, Skyler, honey, what a waste!  I can 
think of some scrumptious uses for this lovely pout."  She was 
worming her way closer, suggestively, intent on his mouth.  

Mulder disentangled himself gently but firmly.  "Sorry, uh, 
excuse me," he said.  

Behind Liza, Lonnie smiled.  "Don't mind Liza," he said.  "Honey, 
we're gonna be late."  He reached for Liza, and Mulder, not 
letting himself think about what he was doing, reached for 
Skyler.  He caught Skyler's hand in his hand, and threaded their 
fingers together.  Skyler gave him a fast, stunned look.

He couldn't have explained why he did it, except that on some 
semi-conscious level he knew that if someone was going to touch 
him tonight he wanted it to be Skyler.  He couldn't shake the 
snaky, crawling feeling in his gut created by the awareness of 
Liza's very male genitalia pressing against him through her mini-
skirt.  He wasn't sure if this feeling was arousal or not.  He 
held tight to Skyler's hand.

Lonnie smiled and nodded, said, "Nice to meet you," and steered 
Liza away down the street, but Mulder didn't let go. 

"She had breasts," he hissed.

"Hormone shots."  Skyler shrugged.  He didn't let go of Mulder's 
hand, either.

Mulder nodded.

"Lonnie teaches writing and comparative lit at SF State.  
Brilliant man.  We've been friends for years.  Liza..." he 
sighed.  "Liza is just Liza.  She wasn't always..."  Skyler 
sighed again, chuckled, and shook his head.  "Well, no, I guess 
maybe she was."

They strolled.  No one said anything for a while.  Skyler's thumb 
caressed the soft skin between Mulder's thumb and first finger, 
and Mulder moved his hand experimentally in Skyler's hand.  He 
stroked tentatively with his thumb, trying to decide how he felt 
about it.  And it felt all right.

What was he thinking?  The starch little Scully voice (which had 
lately supplanted the mom voice in the back of his mind) wanted 
to know.  Mulder felt a flush of relief that the real Scully 
wasn't here to see this, followed almost instantly by guilt, 
which faded into simple sadness.  Sad for Scully, because even 
though *he* could take a break from her sometimes, *Scully* could 
never get away from Scully.  Scully, who, offered the chance to 
be anyone she wanted in the world for a day would still be 
Scully.  How depressing.  

Mulder looked at Skyler from the corner of his eye, and felt his 
heart beat faster.  They were passing a stretch of brick wall.  
He thought of pulling Skyler to the wall, kissing him -- but he 
wasn't quite brave enough.  He felt like a kid on his first heavy 
date, not sure if he should worry more about getting lucky, or 
about not getting lucky.  Up ahead, dance music drifted into the 
street.  

Definitely a gay bar, men were hanging around outside, smoking, 
talking together, leaning up against the wall.  The music sounded 
danceable, and it was dark inside.  "Come on," Mulder said, and 
pulled Skyler in, past the bouncer and into the darkness inside. 

Inside it was crowded and loud.  They joined the jostling crush 
around the bar.  There was nowhere to sit.  He didn't look at 
Skyler, didn't have to look at him to feel the surprise and 
nervous tension in his body, his hand.  He caught sight of the 
bartender, a handsome kid working fast and hard, and then Mulder 
realized with a lurching double-take that it was a woman.  A 
handsome, sexy, long, strong, short-haired woman with a frank, 
confident smile.  Arousal flashed straight to his groin, and he 
was suddenly very turned on.  He held on tighter to Skyler's 
hand.  The bartender was lesbian, he knew, but that awareness, 
too, was in its own way exciting.  Mulder just held Skyler's 
hand, not wanting to let go until the very last moment when he'd 
have to let go so he could pay for their drinks.  

And once he did let go, he couldn't quite work up his nerve to 
reach out again.  He smiled at the bartender and handed Skyler a 
J&B on the rocks.  Wordlessly, they worked their way over to a 
far corner where the music wasn't quite so loud, and found a 
place to stand against a wide rail where they could set their 
drinks.  

"What are you doing?" Skyler shouted at his ear.

"Hell if I know," Mulder shouted back.  

To talk they were going to have to get very close. 

Mulder took a strong swallow of Scotch, feeling it burn his 
throat and wishing for courage.  He looked at Skyler.  "Is this a 
bar you come to often?" he shouted.

(Continued in part 5)