Work Text:
Ruminations
by Amazon X
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HOLIDAY INN
GLEN BURNIE, MD
With a last kiss on Mulder's neck, Skinner sat up from the bed and reached for his white briefs. Mulder sat up behind him, stroking his hand down the wide, smooth expanse of Skinner's back, making the big man shiver.
"Walter, why do we always go to a different hotel to make love?" Mulder asked, laying back, with a sigh.
"Mulder, must we always cover the same ground? Our apartments are surveilled at all times. I'm your boss. This whole thing is wrong on so many levels."
"Then why do you still do it?" Mulder asked. Skinner took a deep breath. Mulder could be exasperating at times. He was like a terrier with a rat.
"You know why, Mulder," Skinner said, slipping his white t-shirt over his head.
"Because you like fucking me," Mulder said, pouting. The man was amazing. He could pry the deepest emotions from everyone else, probe their darkest fears, yet never reveal a single feeling of his own. He went about every relationship the same way, with the empathy and distance of a psychologist. It was one of the things Skinner liked. They could work off their aggressions with each other, and the emotional bond between them went far beyond physical attraction, beyond romantic love. They were true soulmates, fighting the good fight, side by side, in love and in war.
Skinner turned back and stretched out beside Mulder, sliding a hand up the lean belly and smooth chest of his lover. "I make love to you here because then I don't have to change the sheets. If you want to continue to spend this time with me, this is my constraint. You knew that getting into this, Mulder."
"Yeah, Walter, I know...but I want more now. I *deserve* more," Mulder almost whined.
Skinner sat up again and stood to retrieve his pants, stepping in and pulling them up. As he reached for his shirt he said, "I know you deserve more, Mulder. I want to give you more. Hell, I want to give you everything. *I* deserve more. *Dana* deserves even more than that. Our reality is that this is what we get."
Skinner buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his waistband, buckled his belt. "Walter, I want to make love in your bed, in your apartment next time."
"We can't do that, Mulder, you *know* that." One sock, then the other.
"We can't go to mine. My bedroom is...storage."
Tie around his neck, Skinner turned back and said, "If you're taped in my lobby, coming in at night and leaving in the morning, you know the Smoking Man will use that against us. I'm doing all I can to support you and keep my job, Mulder. What else do you want from me?"
Mulder huffed in disgust. "Worried about keeping your job, great. Meanwhile, you screw me in a hotel like..." Mulder stopped short.
"Like what, Mulder? Like a whore? We're not going to discuss Carina Sayles. Stop trying to make me angry with you. We had such a lovely night. Why are you doing this to me?"
Mulder sat up quickly and looked directly into Skinner's eyes. "You seem to regard you benefits and retirement fund more than your lover. Wouldn't you be a little pissed if someone told you that?"
"Wouldn't our relationship be easier if you just quit the FBI and left the X-Files alone?" Mulder sat back at Skinner's quiet statement. He looked straight ahead at the lousy painting on the opposite wall.
"You always want to know the truth, Mulder. Well, here's mine. I want you in my bed, and not just occasionally, but every night. I'm notoriously monogamous. Seventeen years of marriage should prove that. I'm afraid if we try it just once, I'll never let you go. And letting you go is exactly what you need. You need me to let go of you to explore your cases and probe for the truth and to do your fucking job. Ask Sharon what I was like as a husband. I made her stop working when we were married, despite my pittance of a field agent's pay. Remember, Mulder, I entered the FBI like you to do a job. I love being in the FBI, as much as I love you. Being an assistant director in the FBI and sneaking around with you is safer for us, and for mankind, than both of us going public and throwing our careers away. Isn't it?"
"You don't want to come out of the closet, Walter?" Mulder asked, clearly pouting.
Skinner stood from the bed and retrieved his suit jacket. He slipped it onto his shoulders and began checking for his wallet and cell phone. "Answer me one thing: why is it I can't call you by your first name?"
"What?" Mulder asked, finally confused.
"No one calls you by your first name, but your mother. I have been in the most intimate of positions with you, and yet, I still can't call you 'Fox'. Maybe that's part of this perceived distance between us." Skinner lifted his briefcase from the floor. "I will see you in the morning, Mulder."
As Skinner had his hand on the door, Mulder called out, "I love you, Walter. Drive safely."
"I will, Mulder. Good night."
With that, he left.
The End
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