TITLE: Discordia Concors 
NAME: frogdoggie 
E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com 
CATEGORY: SRA 
RATING: NC-17. This story contains VERY GRAPHIC 
CONSENSUAL SEX BETWEEN MEN. So, if you don't like that 
type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. 
SUMMARY: Mulder and Skinner deal with the aftermath of 
Baton Rouge. Can their new relationship survive the Scully 
factor? Read on and find out. 
Obviously you may want to read my previous story, "Baton 
Rouge" to understand this narrative. "Baton Rouge" can be 
found on my web site at: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop 
FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I 
HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy 
debate are always welcome. Flames? I use them to roast 
weenies, hamburgers and Italian sausages on the grill. 
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING.: After the film I think - next 
season? I do deal with events from the film but bearing in mind 
the nature of the relationships in this story I had to mess with the 
mytharc a bit. 
KEYWORDS: story angst slash Skinner Mulder NC-17 
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Jana 
Cassidy, Jeffrey Spender and all other X-Files characters 
belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th 
Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is 
intended and no profit is being made from their use. 
Author's Notes at the end. 
Discordia Concors 
by frogdoggie 
8/17/98
discordia concors: Latin for harmonious discord: harmony or 
unity gained by combining disparate or conflicting elements. 
- Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 
I've never had a woman throw a shoe at me. A vase, but never 
a shoe. Phoebe beaned me with the vase. In a London hotel. 
Typical Pheebe histrionics. "Fox - you bloody wanker!" Whiz - 
Crash. Of course, it wasn't her damn vase. But that was typical 
too. She was good at destroying other people's property. I still 
have the scar right above my hairline over my left eye. Her aim 
sucked. She was looking to nail me in the nuts. 
Now Scully lobbed that shoe with all the accuracy of an ace 
major league pitcher. And I think she even put a curve on that 
pump. It seemed like she was off to my left somewhere, and 
wham - plush pump bullseye smack in the middle of my 
forehead. Bruise city. I yelled "Batter take your base?" and she 
threw the other heel. "Missed me, missed me, now you gotta 
kiss me!" Well that retort went over like a lead balloon too. I 
ducked into the can and locked the door thinking the Smith and 
Wesson was coming out next. There is precedence after all. 
And why was she resorting to high heel hard ball you ask? Well, 
it was because I had finally gotten around to telling her about 
Walter. I mean explaining that Walter Skinner and I were lovers. 
Scully and I had just gotten through a 48 hour fuck fest 
ourselves and I thought - well, Mulder, you big love monkey you 
- maybe it's about time you told her what went on between you 
and Walter during that VCS case in Baton Rouge. How Walter 
was a closet queer and a virgin to boot. How you fell hopelessly 
in love, and in lust. How you burst Walter's cherry and...well you 
get the picture. 
Christ - I had to tell her. Scully and I don't keep anything from 
each other any longer. We're way past that little boondoggle in 
our relationship for God's sake. It was just that there hadn't been 
much opportunity lately to go into the nitty gritty of *Wally 
World*. Walter was a complicated subject - not something I felt 
comfortable talking to my other life and work partner about over 
a bowl of *clear your sinus* chili at our next Denny's dinner 
break. These delicate descriptions of desire take time. Scully 
and I just hadn't had enough slack seconds in months. More 
about that in a moment. 
At any rate, she hurled the high heel missile not because she 
was angry that Walter and I are lovers. She had always said she 
wouldn't begrudge me a male lover. She more then 
understands my needs in that area. And of course she likes and 
respects Walter. He comes under that heading I told you about 
once. The *might be an acceptable male* heading. 
No, she was pissed because I had delayed telling her about 
Walter for several months. But for Christ sake, Dallas and 
freezing our buns off (not to mention almost dying), in 
Antarctica were sort of sandwiched in there you know. "When 
was there time, Dana?" I kept asking her. She kept kvetching 
about lying bundled up with me in the Sno-Cat while we ran out 
what was left of the gas in the tank trying to stay alive. Help 
would arrive. I knew it was coming because I'd called it down 
before hand. I just wasn't positive it would come in time. 
"Why didn't you say something when we were lying nose to 
nose, Mulder. Huh, huh?" she insisted on asking. 
Well good Lord woman, you were too busy sucking my face for 
me to get a word in edgewise anyway. Of course maybe the 
fact that I'd made love to her to keep her warm might have had 
something to do with her response there. She woke up in the 
Sno-Cat with both my hands under the parka I'd dressed her in. 
I certainly got a great big smile along with the raised eyebrow. 
She'd gotten the message when I teased her nipples. Oh yeah. 
Making love just seemed so right. Besides warming us up really 
fast - we... we felt like it might have been the last time you 
know. If the helicopters hadn't come...well I don't even want to 
think about that happening to her. I hadn't wanted it to happen in 
that fucking *Mothership* and I was damned if I'd let it happen 
out on that ice plain. We made love and then afterwards I made 
her laugh like hell at every lame joke in my repertoire too - 
anything to keep her awake, aware and alive. 
When we heard the choppers we felt like celebrating even 
though we were close to collapse. We were alive against all 
odds and we felt on top of the world. I'd regained my faith in the 
fight and Scully was right there with me now every step of the 
way. 
Speaking of choppers - I do have one little side issue here. You 
know what? I sort of thought Scully would have smelled a rat 
down in Antarctica as well. I mean tweaked on to the idea that 
maybe Walter and I felt something for each other? But her mind 
wasn't looking for a connection between Walter and me so 
perhaps I'm wrong in that hypothesis. Besides that - she passed 
out again shortly after the helicopters reached us. 
But who saw to it that we were rescued? Well, besides the Lone 
Gunmen? Walter, that's who. I had made one call to the LGM 
before I drove across the edge of the Ross Ice Shelf. I didn't 
want to call any of Walter's numbers for fear the call would be 
intercepted. But I told Frohike to contact Walter immediately 
and give him the coordinates. The AD came to Antarctica for 
crying out loud. I don't know how he managed to swing that trip 
but he was in the first chopper that touched down on the snow. 
It was incredibly touching to see him there. I was beyond words. 
Scully was groggy and all she managed to croak out was - 
"Sir?" Walter was so wonderful with her too. "It's ok, Scully," 
he'd told her as he stroked her hair. "We're going to get you 
warmed up. Just hang on." he added and then he picked her up 
like she was a rag doll and took her to the waiting copter after 
she'd fainted again.  
He was trying to hold it all in too - the worry, the 
caring...everything. Fuck. He must have been utterly panicked 
but he was still so afraid to let any of it show. He's still very good 
at keeping it undercover, in the closet. He's my undercover 
man in more ways than one. But when he faced me in that 
copter the depth of his emotions was plain to see if only for a 
few heartbeats. My heart swelled with the sight. If I had any 
doubts that he loved me they were banished in that noisy 
helicopter when I looked into his eyes. 
I still remember him helping me to break out of the hospital. 
Hell, he was willing to go after Scully himself if I'd been 
incapable. But the look of desolation when he realized I was 
going to go it alone coupled with the realization that he knew 
there was no way he could go with me was terrible to see. 
Leaving him was hard but he's a big boy. I knew he'd cope. And 
this was Scully. There was no way in hell I wasn't going. No 
fucking way. 
On the ice, Walter couldn't show his relief in finding either of us. 
His relief at finding me alive. In the copter he helped to wrap us 
in insulated blankets and surreptitiously held my hand when he 
thought no one was looking. I squeezed his fingers to let him 
know I was appreciative. When they loaded us off at the Air 
Force base hospital he had one moment, bending close to my 
ear, to tell me he loved me. It was such a risk. I teared up and 
the tears felt so cold in my eyes. I mouthed the same words 
back. I meant them with every fiber of my being. He smiled and 
I knew my faith to fight on had another ally besides my Scully. 
But Scully missed all of these events. It took another grueling X-
File, a weekend of sexual healing and the aforementioned 
tossed shoes to get us into synch on Walter Skinner. 
But, when all was said and done Scully had a good reason I 
guess for hating the fact I'd delayed revealing my relationship 
with the AD. 
Scully had decided Walter would make a good match for her 
mother, Maggie. Yikes. I imagine she was just a tad 
embarrassed to find out why Walter hadn't been receptive to 
her veiled suggestions that her mother was dating again and he 
might consider squiring her to some official FBI function if he 
had the inclination. Holy shit! Well needless to say, Walter's 
inclinations don't run in that direction. At least not if he has a 
choice. And sometimes he doesn't have one. More about that 
later too. 
But - how the hell Scully ever got up the nerve to even make a 
veiled suggestion to *The Boss* regarding Mrs. Scully I'll never 
know. She has always been distant and professional with him. A 
bit nervously stand offish in acknowledgment of his authority. 
He makes her think of her late father. Maybe that's what 
precipitated the dating idea. Who knows. But she did hint and 
Walter acted as thick as a brick over the suggestion. That's his 
defense mechanism - obtuseness - when he needs to draw on 
it. Scully kept after him though so that must be really grating on 
her now too. C'est la vie. I think circumstances here just worked 
against us. Scully and I are all right with it now. She just wants 
me to tell Walter about us now too. Well, I'm getting around to it. 
I really am. 
When we returned from Baton Rouge Walter and I more or less 
went our separate ways. Our reactions there were a bit of a 
defense mechanism as well, I believe. I mean things had been 
so intense that last night in the hotel. Intense the whole damn 
time down in Baton Rouge. Walter needed time to decompress 
and I needed time with Scully in the worst way. She'd gotten 
back from San Diego and was needing my special tender loving 
care and made no bones about it when I walked into her 
apartment. 
So, it was once more into the breach Mulder and I was ecstatic 
to do it. No question. God, it felt so fantastic to be in her arms. 
Scully and I didn't see the outside of her place for 24 hours. I 
took a few days off after that as well just to get my personal 
affairs together. A trip to Connecticut to visit my mother 
presented itself. I'd put off seeing mom for too long. When I 
returned Scully and I were on the road again. New Hampshire. 
Well the mountains were scenic. Then we went to Arkansas, 
Utah, back east to New York then to...well you get the idea. 
Then there was the fire. And then came Dallas and Anarctica. 
Scully and I took some time off after our date with the 
Mothership. A few days. It doesn't sound long enough does it? 
Yeah, well it's true the frostbite had hardly healed before we 
were back in the saddle again. But, I did sense a new eagerness 
in Scully to get back to work. And truth be told I was champing 
at the proverbial bit as well. So it was the endless roadtrip 
scenario once more. We were off to Maine and then Wisconsin, 
Washington, Rhode Island, California, New Jersey. My partner 
and I started to feel like pinballs getting slapped from one coast 
to the other. If work was what we craved the Bureau was more 
than happy to oblige. 
I did manage to see Walter for one night in there somewhere. 
We had dinner out and sat around talking at his apartment 
afterwards. The new apartment. Walter moved up in the world. 
He still lives in the same building in that Crystal City high rise but 
when one of the two bedrooms on the top floor became 
available The Boss moved up to that nosebleed neighborhood. 
The new apartment has some view and he got the home office 
he wanted and needed in the form of the second bedroom. I 
wish I'd been around to help the big man move. I could have 
thought of some inventive ways to christen his new 
accommodations. Oh yes. 
At any rate, that evening was when he told me the basement 
office was going to be renovated. Scully and I were still in 
temporary quarters over in VCS. But, since the fire hadn't 
caused as much structural damage as originally thought the 
powers that be deemed the basement digs salvageable. So, 
plans were slowly progressing in that direction. He was a little 
shamefaced about our being shoved back into the bowels of the 
Hoover Building. But I could have cared less really. My faith 
was renewed and the location for our battle was less important 
then the actual war. I ended up staying over. We slept together - 
just slept. No sex. I think both of us were still a little shell 
shocked and I know I was totally exhausted. I found out though 
that the AD gives a pretty decent back massage himself. His 
hands sent me to sleep before I even realized he was doing it. I 
haven't seen him alone since that night. I miss my big bed 
buddy fiercely, madly, deeply. 
So, that sort of brings me up to the present. It's the end of 
October. Halloween's next weekend. Scully and I have just 
moved back into the basement. It's not quite the same. Some 
accouterments are a hell of a lot better, especially for *La 
Scully*. We have separate very rich looking wooden desks with 
comfortable ergonomic chairs and ta da - our own individual 
nameplates. The rest looks like most people's version of a 
disaster area all ready. The Mulder touch strikes again to make 
things more comfortable. My little homey anti-Martha Stewart 
efforts. Scully isn't complaining either. She's hyped on her new 
desk, nameplate, PC, laptop, phone and personal extension, 
individual coffee pot, new mug, etc. etc. So many changes. I 
wish we had the files back though. Christ I do angst over them. 
That's one change I'd like to see taken back. But the rest...  
We have Walter to thank for the good changes. He pressed and 
he pressed hard for them. After his less than gentle upper 
echelon rumble with that bitch Jana Cassidy from OPR to 
reopen the X-Files, Walter took advantage of his victory. He 
really stuck it to her on the remodeling. He got everything he 
wanted for us in that area. I still wonder if he should have been 
less...vengeful concerning Ms. Cassidy. Less the butch faggot 
in rubbing her *how dare you lady* nose in his machismo one-
up-manship. She was such a ball breaker though I can see 
where he was tempted to do it. She needed someone to yank 
her down a notch and Walter was just the boy to do it too. But if 
he hadn't been such a cocksucker things might have gone 
differently. But who would have even dreamed what her 
frigging reaction would be to all that Walter Skinner 
forcefulness. I didn't see it coming. No sirree. Just wait. You'll 
suck a lemon too when you get to that part of my little narrative. 
Remember I said choices? Oh yeah. 
So, Scully and I sat in the basement on a Thursday afternoon 
going through endless reams of paperwork from our last trip to 
*hole in the wall*, *nowherewierdsville* USA. 
"Mulder, don't forget I'm visiting my mother this weekend," she 
had just finished telling me. She was leaving Friday morning. 
Three day weekend. Maggie Scully deserved it. She hadn't 
seen her daughter in a coons age. I was supposed to grab 
Scully's mail for her.  
"Yes, ma'am. Mulder mailman at your service." 
"Thank you kind sir," she smiled back at me. She looked so 
relaxed and radiant despite having been up to her knees in 
sheep shit only two days ago. No one could look as good as 
Dana Scully could even if the person had been up to their 
eyeballs in...well she just looked superb. 
"So what are your weekend plans?" she asked as she typed 
some more case notes into her PC. Click, click, click. I grew 
fascinated for a second just watching her graceful fingers fly 
over the keyboard. I hunt and peck. Had been doing it for two 
hours. But Scully? She's a keyboard virtuoso. 
I opened my mouth to reply, "No plans, light of my life," when 
my phone rang. In house call. /Then again/, I thought. I picked it 
up. 
"Mulder." 
"Mulder, I'd like to see you in my office. I have some questions 
regarding your part of this expense report." 
Walter weekend calling I thought. I hoped anyway. Jesus I 
missed him too. Missed him just like I was starting to miss 
Scully all ready even though she was only going for a weekend 
with Maggie.
"Yes sir, I'll be right up." 
"Fine," he replied tersely and hung up. I dropped the receiver 
gently into the cradle. I was staring at the phone a little too long. 
Scully noticed my pensive look. 
"Expense report grilling," I shrugged at her. 
"Are you going to tell him?" 
I looked over at her. Eyebrow time. Oh brother. I sighed.  
"In his office? What do you think?" 
They suck the Hoover for bugs more than the LGM sweep their 
flea bitten dump of an office which is saying a lot. But Scully 
and I were never sure whether the walls had ears. So we didn't 
discuss too many personal or sensitive business items on the 
JOB. Oh sure, sometimes it couldn't be helped. The sexual 
innuendo down here gets pretty thick sometimes for example. 
But as a rule we're a trifle circumspect. And, I sure as hell didn't 
want to whisper sweet nothings into Walter's ear in his office 
either. But as it turned out I was a fool for love - what can I say. 
"You know what I mean," she went back to typing. Her lips were 
pursing. Oh lovely. Just the weekend send off I needed - Dana 
"Dies Irae" Scully. Shit. 
"Look, if the opportunity presents itself later (like after a great 
roll in the hay this weekend), I'll broach the subject, OK?" I 
replied. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice but it was 
hard. 
"Don't you think that would be best?" she asked looking up at 
me again over her glasses. 
Oh Lord. "No I think we should just lie like rugs for as long as we 
can, Dana. Why let on that..." 
"All right, all right, I get the point," she chuckled slightly. 
"I'm so glad I can make you laugh," I groused getting up and 
pulling on my suit coat. 
"Oh, I'm sorry, really, Mulder. But, Fox, if you could see your 
face." 
"Yeah? What about my face?" 
My turn to arch the eyebrow. You'll notice we use those first 
names now. Almost dying on the fucking *Aliens* wannabe 
Mothership in Antarctica did that to us. We fall into that 
familiarity quite often now. It's weird - we do it in the office the 
most. When we're in bed it's still Scully and Mulder. Believe it or 
not, Mr. Ripley. Strange but true. 
"You look like what's his name - like Dudley Moore in Ten when 
he was lusting after Bo Derrick." 
"Oh thanks a lot, you bitch," I start to laugh like hell, "I'll 
remember that little observation, just you wait." Visions of 
Walter running on a beach with a hell of a lot more hair jump 
into my mind. I start to laugh even more hard. I tried to stop it 
though. I didn't want to show up in Walter's office with my 
schnoze all red and dripping snot after all. 
Scully was laughing hard now too, "Takes one to know one, 
Mulder." 
"One?" 
"Bitch to know another..." 
"No shit, Ms. Joan Crawford. Or is it Bette today, Baby Jane?" I 
could throw a few more famous, brazen fag hags at her but 
she's gotten the point. However, she does have one last zinger 
up her sleeve. Boy if this place is bugged the dorks 
eavesdropping are getting a fucking weird fruity earful here. 
"Want to borrow my copy of Bolero?" she chokes out as I stride 
to the office door. Gotcha Mulder. 
I turn, red faced with mirth. My eyes are watering with my vain 
attempt to shut off my laughter. 
"I'll think about it Ms. Garland," I volley back. 
"All right, Scarecrow. But just remember - we aren't in Kansas 
any more," she finishes with a blithe little wave of her hand. 
"Yeah, we were in fucking Hoboken," I end on that brilliant note, 
adjusting my tie and smoothing my hair as I leave. She's 
whistling *Somewhere Over the Rainbow* at her Pledge shiny 
wooden desk and I shake my head as I enter the elevator. 
Kimberly Cook lies in wait outside Walter's door. Some agents 
consider her the *Dragon Lady*, guarding Walter's inner 
sanctum from all intruders. Kimberly's really a doll if you know 
how to handle her. We get along just fine. I smile good 
afternoon at her.  
"Mulder, wipe that smirk off your face, he's on the warpath - it's 
not going to help." Kimberly advises as soon as I'm standing in 
front of her desk. She likes me, so I get the warning. If it was 
say, Agent Colter, she'd let him walk into the lion's den with a 
steak hanging around his neck. 
Oh Oh, I think. Maybe this really is an expense report grilling 
after all. I start to think back over my charges in a desperate 
attempt to get them straight in my head. For the life of me I 
can't come up with any gross errors for a change. The effort to 
reconcile my costs wipes the grin from my face quite 
successfully. My brow furrows and my lips set in a tight line. 
Kimberly takes in the change in my demeanor. 
"Passable," she notes, "you look just like him. Now get in there. 
He's probably tapping his foot by now." 
Christ all mighty. I swallow and prepare to scale the walls of the 
castle keep. 
Walter is standing behind his desk with his back to the door. His 
hands are in his pockets and he's looking out his office window. 
I can tell his back is tense. I clear my throat. 
"Sit down, Mulder," he orders without turning around. 
I park it in one of the hot seats in front of his desk. He runs a 
hand over the back of his neck, twists his head to get that 
satisfying vertebrae crack. I wince. He finally turns around.  
Well he does look like he missed his Metamucil again this 
morning. 
"Sir?" I ask. 
"Corporation for Public Broadcasting," he throws back at me.  
/What the fuck?/ runs across my frontal lobe. 
"What?" 
"The building across the street. A couple of floors house The 
Corporation for Public Broadcasting." he sighs. 
Oh yeah, of course. Now I get the reference. I lean forward in 
the chair to get a closer view out the window. "Is that woman 
showing off her bike shorts again? You know, that cute little 
number with the spandex under her..." 
"Yeah, she's not bad at all if I cared to go there. But no, sorry. I 
was just thinking about...real public service." he shrugs and sits 
down at his desk. I step back 
Oh blow me. I hope this isn't going to be a mid-life crisis 
moment here flashes through my mind. Well if it is I guess I'd 
better deal with it. After all, when I make a life commitment with 
someone it's for better or worse. I don't dick around. It's not my 
way. I wait patiently for Walter to release the next salvo.
He continues to stare at me. All right, I'll bite I figure. What the 
fuck's up. 
"Did you want to see me about the expense report, sir?" I ask. 
"I just wanted to see you," he replies quietly, "I haven't...Mulder, 
it's been weeks. Crap," he shakes his head ruefully and smiles a 
little. Oh God. I'm starting to feel warm and my stomach is 
fluttering all over. He looks gorgeous. The big softy. He misses 
me too. I can't believe he's saying this here though. I just hope 
the Hoover bug suck works or we are in deep doo doo. Maybe I 
should consider smuggling Frohike or Langly in here for a really 
professional going over. Their bug hunting methods are fool 
proof. Walter is looking at me again and I'm suddenly lost in the 
depths of his liquid brown eyes. 
"I know, I've missed you too. It's the circumstances, Walter. But 
it hasn't been easy." 
"No shit," he nodded looking down under my intense scrutiny. 
He picked up some papers on his desk and shuffled them 
around a little before he met my eyes again. 
"So, what do you want to do about it?" I asked. Walter likes the 
direct approach. I decide on a full frontal assault. Full frontal? 
Hell yes I'd like a full frontal...full body press...skin to skin... 
Hump his brains out in his executive washroom. God, I'd like to 
strip him naked and throw him across his desk. That would 
certainly put on a show for the folks across the street at CPB. 
"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned. I love that smile. His 
whole damn face changes when he lets me see those pearly 
whites. 
Walter opened his desk drawer and took out a set of keys on a 
ring. He gave the keys a little shove towards me across his 
blotter. I shifted forward and picked them up. I smiled back. 
"Why Walter, are these the keys to the kingdom?" I tease 
putting the metal passport into my inner suit coat pocket. 
"The keys to the whole fucking kingdom," he replied in a low 
growl. 
Oh Fuck. I'm hard in an instant. He sees the expression on my 
face. Sweat must be pooling on my upper lip. I'm sliding around 
on the hot seat to ease the pressure in my balls. I lick my lips 
but find out the perspiration was in my fevered imagination. 
Walter's smile widens, becomes devilish. Jesus, I want that 
mouth. 
"Did you have plans for the weekend?" he asked, toying with 
the file on his desk. 
"I do now." 
"All right then. Well, uh, you can let yourself in tomorrow night if 
that works for you. The silver key opens the front door to the 
building. The gold key unlocks my apartment door. I'd very 
much like it if you'd join me there this weekend," he ends more 
formerly.  
"Is that an order?" I smirk. 
"Fuck you, you dick," he laughs. 
"I certainly hope so," I whisper and he barks a really loud laugh. 
"I take it you're working late tomorrow?" I venture. I don't want 
this moment to end now. The heat between my legs feels so 
welcome even though I know I can't do anything about it right 
now. Anticipation is bliss with Walter, or Scully too for that 
matter. Besides, I'm just enjoying Walter's presence too much 
to want our little tete a tete to end too soon. 
"Yeah. I have an afternoon meeting I know is going to drag out. 
But, I hope it won't take too long," he nods. 
"Want me to get dinner?" 
"Don't go to any trouble." 
"Hey, I can dial with the best of them," I advise making a 
punching motion with my index finger. 
Walter chuckles again, "Ok, whatever you're hungry for, 
Mulder." 
"You mean besides you?" I grin. Oh that gets him. I notice he's 
shifting in his not so comfy chair now. Gotcha by the willie there 
Wally I think with smug satisfaction. I really will have to try 
phone sex with this guy sometime - he's a prime candidate for 
some audio dynamite I do believe. 
"I was thinking Chinese, Thai, something Asian," he swallows 
hard. Oh yeah baby. Just wait. I know a few Asian delicacies I 
bet you've never had Mr. Skinner. 
"Sounds like a plan. Scully told me about a good Thai restaurant 
near your place if my memory doesn't fail me." Of course it 
never does - being eidetic has it's advantages in a multitude of 
situations. 
"Thai would be fine," Walter nods again and I sense we'd better 
wrap up our little assignation thang. Walter sighs. 
"Yeah, I have to let you out of here. I have a meeting in a few 
minutes. So..." he lets his voice trail off and raps his knuckles 
on his desk. 
"Friday then." 
"OK," he grins. 
"I'll keep the home fires burning until you get there, sir," I 
whisper as I rise to leave. 
"See that you do, Agent Mulder," he growls in mock 
seriousness. I'm reaching for the door handle when he delivers 
his parting remark and I smile without turning. 
"And Agent Mulder?" 
"Yes, sir?" 
"Congratulations. This is the first error free expense report I've 
seen from you in over 5 years. I'm thinking of framing it."  
I laugh, open the door and head back to Scully in the basement. 
Maybe she'd like to quit early I think. I can take her home and 
help her...pack. Yeah, we can pack it in all right, I smirk. I 
rearrange the extra pistol I'm now packing in my pocket and hit 
the down button on the elevator. 
xXx 
Friday morning dawns Scullyless and I'm a little glum. But my 
Walter weekend looms so my spirits are uplifted before I even 
hit the door to the Hoover Building. When I arrived in the 
basement I was met with a pleasant site on my desk as well. A 
note and diskette from Scully. 
>>>Mulder: 
Here are the completed autopsy notes from Hoboken. All you 
need to do is insert them into your part of the report and we're 
home free. Good luck with Skinner this afternoon. And good 
luck this weekend too. Don't muck it up, loverboy. And I don't 
just mean the Hoboken case report, Dudley. See you on 
Monday." 
DKS<<< 
I tell you - what a woman. Can you say Nora Charles, Mrs. Thin 
Man? Yeah, I knew you could. We'd spent last night doing the 
wild thang and here she gets in early to drop these notes off for 
me. Bark at that bone, Asta Mulder. Good dog. She just sends 
me. Scully does, I mean it. There is no one to match her 
efficiency or her rapier wit. I love a woman that keeps up with 
me, yessiree. I really love a woman with more efficiency in her 
little finger then I have in my entire body. I don't know what this 
pseudo Nick Charles would do without his Nora. Have mercy. 
I was smiling wide as I booted up my PC and slipped the disk in 
the A drive. I knew those autopsy notes would fit seamlessly in 
with my - ok - rather passable case report. I don't like to let my 
light stay under a bushel all the time. Fine - the report was a 
fucking masterpiece. I knew Walter would approve it and the 
flawless autopsy notes would only insure the good reception. So 
there. 
I sat down to blend Scully and my words of faultless wisdom in 
preparation for my 1:30 meeting with Walter *wait till you get 
home, baby* Skinner. 
I was approaching Walter's outer office, report in hand, just 
before 1:30 when I saw Kimberly ducking for cover. Oh fuck. I 
could hear Walter all the way down the God damn hall. He was 
cursing someone out in there. Atypical. He usually did that with 
more restraint. Quiet flaming. A subtle roasting on his turning 
spit. I know, believe me. But he was bellowing like a wounded 
moose behind his closed door. Kimberly walked past me in a 
hurry.
"I'm going for coffee. Take a seat. I'll be back in a minute," she 
nodded back into the outer waiting area. 
"Who the hell's in there with him?" I shot after her retreating 
back. 
"Agent Spender," she hissed as she swung her empty coffee 
cup up towards her head in a surprising imitation of a slaughter 
hammer. 
Jeffrey Spender? Good. Meat for the beast and I wouldn't want 
to see it any other way. The pencil necked geek. God, I hate his 
guts. Gee don't mince words, Mulder. Ok, I won't. I think he's a 
mutherfucking traitor and as soon as I can prove it for sure he's 
going down. I told him that once, and I never spoke a more true 
threat before in my life. I keep expecting to see him standing in 
Walter's office sucking on a fucking Morley cigarette someday. 
The good and faithful son - nepotism allowing him to follow in 
his Godforsaken father's footsteps. Allowing him to hurt Walter 
again. I'll see Spender in hell before I let that happen. 
But for now, I bide my time. I need proof and I don't have it yet. 
But soon. Very soon. I enter the enclosed waiting area and take 
a seat to wait for Walter to get done laying waste to Special 
Agent Jerkwad Suspender. I can hear him behind the closed 
door and I can't help but smile in malicious glee. I tap the report 
file against my leg. 
"If I ever hear about you obstructing local law enforcement like 
that again, Agent Spender I'll have your badge and gun. Do I 
make myself clear?" 
"Sir, I think..." 
"Spender, you're *not* thinking you insubordinate asshole. 
That's the fucking problem here. Take my advice - I'd 
reconsider my reply right now, agent - or suffer the 
consequences." 
"Yes." 
"Yes, what?" 
"Yes, you are making yourself very clear." 
"Very clear?" 
"Very clear, sir." 
"Good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding." 
"Yes, sir." 
"All right, you're dismissed. I'll handle this mess with the Bristol, 
Virginia PD. But next time mister, your ass is grass. Now get 
out." 
I pretend to clean some lint off my pants leg as Walter's office 
door flies open. Jeffrey can barely contain himself but he does 
manage to catch the swinging wood before it slams back into 
the wall and signals his ire to everyone on this floor. He pushes 
the door shut after him and advances on me. 
I smile sarcastically up at him, pinning his eyes. Die, Die My 
Darling! I wish I *had* that fucking film's ax in my hands. I'd 
whack it through his scrawny pencil neck. He glares at me. 
Nope - no love lost there either. Spender hates my tensing 
intestines all right. He's the first to look away though as he bulls 
his way past me and out into the hallway. The returning 
Kimberly Cook dances out of the way managing to spill nary a 
drop of her steaming hot fresh coffee. 
"It's alive," I quip as she takes her seat behind her desk.  
"Barely, from the looks of things. I thought I saw a blood trail," 
she chuckles. 
"I wish," I return her humor. 
You know, I suspect once in a while that Kimberly Cook is a 
woman wearing comfortable shoes. You've heard that slang 
term haven't you? No? well, women in comfortable shoes 
equals lesbian. I mean I think Kim's gay. I don't know why but 
she strikes me as...well I get the idea she knows and 
understands about Walter and me at least. She's just a hell of a 
good-natured human being. I guess I'm jumping to conclusions 
regarding her sexual orientation out of seeing a kindred spirit. 
She detests Spender as much as I do. And she does guard 
Walter from all disturbing influences when she can. If she is gay 
she has the perfect cover as well. The office gossip says she's 
been boinking Walter for years. Well, I know that little rumor mill 
factoid is way off base. Walter has heard the rumor too. Hell, he 
probably started it. Or maybe Kim did. Who knows. Christ why 
should I care anyway? But it is interesting to speculate. Just call 
me Fox Mulder, National Enquirer reporter wannabe. The truth 
is out there. Lord. 
"You might as well go in, Mulder. He is expecting you and it's all 
ready almost 2 o'clock. He's got a meeting at 2:30 with all the 
other Assistant Directors and Louis himself," Kim nods her head 
towards The Boss's door. 
Jana Cassidy and Director Freeh? Holy shit. I'd better stop at 
National Liquor on the way to his place after work. Walter's 
going to need his bourbon tonight, baby. God. 
"Ok, if I don't come out after the allotted time, call out the dogs," 
I replied setting my shoulders. 
"How do I know what the allotted time is, agent?" she grins.  
"Use your judgment, Kim. But remember, timing is everything." 
"I'll take that under advisement." she replies, raising an eyebrow 
as I turn my back on her. 
Once I'm inside Walter's office I look around in bewilderment 
for a second. He's not there. I toss the report on his blotter and 
then I hear the water running. He's in his perk - the executive 
can.  
Oh my. I walk over and stand in the doorway. Walter's back is 
to me and he's literally throwing water directly from the gushing 
tap all over his face. I can tell by the way the muscles in his 
neck are jumping that the full force spray is ice cold. Oh crap. If 
I had a reason for icing Jeffrey *eat my bullet* Spender before I 
have even more of a reason now. He's obviously fucked Walter 
over into near apoplexy the sick sack of shit. 
Walter keeps slapping the water. I approach him from behind 
and gently touch either side of his waist with my hands. Oh 
Christ what a mistake. His reaction is instantaneous. He whirls 
and one hand grips my neck. His Glock is stuck to the side of 
my skull before I can even blink. 
"JesusHChrist, Mulder!" he barks in panic. The gun goes up just 
as fast. His hand is shaking around his piece. He yanks it 
behind him, tabbing the safety back on and lays the semi-
automatic on the small vanity. He looks down, gasping. 
"God, I'm sorry," I whisper, touching his face. 
"I almost shot you, you crazy asshole." He grabs for a paper 
towel and wipes his face dry. The towel goes next to the Glock.  
The Glock gets picked back up and goes in his holster.
"I know. I...I shouldn't have startled you. It *was* an asinine 
move," I reply moving closer and taking him by the waist. I 
circle him with my arms. He settles against me with a sigh. He 
looks straight into my face. The kiss comes and it's hot and 
searing. He takes the lead and I let him. He needs to show his 
relief, his apology for nearly capping me. Walter's hands grip 
my head, pulling me by the hair as he crushes me against his 
mouth. I guess it has been a long time. My God. What a 
performance. I'm melting against him, hardly able to breath and 
not caring one bit, as his tongue thrusts in and explores the 
entire inside of my mouth. 
Finally he breaks away and his gasping this time has nothing to 
do with panic at nearly shooting me. 
"Jesus," he breaths out and turns away slightly. He's coming 
back to himself. I smile. Yeah, he's realizing where he is and 
why this probably isn't a really good idea. I mean sucking face 
in his office can isn't exactly a stellar example of good 
judgment. But what the hell. He adjusts his specs. 
"Better?" I ask him quietly. 
"More than better, but shit, I have a meeting in..." he glances 
back down at his watch. 
I step back to allow him some space, to give him a chance to 
regain his composure, his formality. 
"A little less than twenty minutes," he finishes looking back up 
into my eyes. My gaze strays to his crotch. 
"Yeah, and I gotta get rid of that too before I see the fucking 
Director," he chuckles. 
"Well..." 
"No way, Jose. Get the hell out of here. I'll take matters into my 
own hands," he nods towards the door, "I have to get out of the 
can at some point this afternoon." 
"Shit, Walter. I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered 
here." I smirk. I can see his point though. It's been so long that if 
I did go down on him I know I wouldn't be able to stop there. I'd 
want a hell of a lot longer than 20 too and I doubt Walter keeps 
lube in his executive can. 
"Take my word for it Mulder, it's a compliment, all right. Now 
blow," he waves me out, chuckling at the double entendre. 
"What about the report?" I ask as I cross back in front of his 
desk. 
"Report? Hey, saved by the bell my man. If I read that thing I 
should get rid of this boner through shear boredom," he laughs. 
He's really on a roll now. Blowing off steam after the scare in 
the can and the earlier Spender anger bender. I play along. 
"You shithead. Scully and I slaved over that deathless classic. 
You can't fool me, Walter. I know you get off on our reports. 
You're just going to use it for a fuckrag. What am I gonna tell 
Scully when she finds the pages all sticky?" 
"Do your own filing, Mulder, then she won't find out. Or better 
yet, just tell her you were reading it in front of one of your fuck 
flicks." 
"Oh easy for you to say, Mr. *I'd be lost without Kimberly 
Cook's filing expertise* AD. And you know of course that half 
the Bureau thinks you're putting it to her between the file 
cabinets."  
He's laughing in earnest now and it's a joy to see. The humor is 
having another affect as well. He's losing his hard on. Well I'll 
have to remember that useful bit of information. 
"Between the filing cabinets? Isn't that a little indirect? I mean 
off target grammatically, Agent Mulder?" 
"Well, your aim sucks anyway, Walter - regardless of the bad 
grammar." 
"I could say something about sucking too, Mulder - but I'll have 
mercy on you." 
"Thank God for small favors, sir." 
I'm at his door and he's standing by his desk with his hand on 
his stomach, the laughter vibrating through his entire body. 
"Get out of here you lunatic. I'll see you tonight," he chokes out 
as quietly as he can. 
"Right. Later." I grin back at him as I open the office door. I hold 
that picture of his smiling and laughing face so I can keep it in 
my minds eye until I see him again this evening. I shut the door 
and turn to see Kimberly also smiling in my direction over the 
remnants of her last cup of coffee. 
"Thanks, Mulder," she says ducking her head slightly over the 
mug. 
"For what, Kim?" I ask pinning her caramel colored eyes.  
"For making him laugh," she answers as she turns and sets the 
cup down next to her PC. 
"It was my pleasure," I mumble as she goes back to her quick 
and efficient typing. 
xXx 
I left work at 5 o'clock. The meeting Walter had started at 2:30 
was still going on and that did not bode well. I all ready figured 
he'd be late and prepared myself for the eventuality. I had to 
stop at Scully's apartment to take in her mail and paper 
anyway. I also intended to stop at my place to pack a bag for 
the weekend since I got sidetracked on doing that Thursday 
night. I was also going to change into casual clothes, collect a 
few CDs and feed my fish. I'd check back for my mail on 
Sunday morning or something. Whatever. No big deal. After 
those stops I drove to the Thai restaurant and then National 
Liquor for a bottle of top shelf bourbon. I don't drink it very 
often. I don't drink much at all really. But Walter likes to down 
one or two after a day like today. The deliciously spicy smell of 
the Thai food made my trip to Walter's apartment a pleasure 
even though my stomach was growling by the time I got there. 
It was 8 o'clock. I thought he would have beaten me home. 
An empty, dark and lonely apartment greeted me when I used 
the gold key and swung open the door. 
Shit. 
I sighed and dropped my duffel on the floor. The small thud it 
made on the soft, plush tawny colored carpeting echoed 
throughout the cavernous apartment interior. 
I moved through Papa Bear's den, turning on lights as I went. 
The soft glow of the lamps mitigated some of the sterile 
loneliness of a Walterless world. The kitchen light went on last. I 
opened the fridge and placed the big bag full of little Thai food 
boxes into it's cold caress. I took out a Diet Coke and sat it on 
the counter. Just as I shut the fridge door my cell phone rang. I 
grabbed the phone out of the pocket of my leather jacket and 
flipped it open. 
"Mulder." 
"Nine o'clock. I swear to God, Mulder. Nine." 
"Walter?" 
"Yeah." 
"Where the hell are you?" 
He was talking over what sounded like the noise of flushing 
toilets. 
"I'm in the can at Casey's bar, Mulder." 
"Casey's by the Hoover building?" 
"Right. I'll explain when I get home. Nine o'clock. I mean it." 
"Ok, lover. Nine. I'll get the food ready." 
"Thai?" he asked hopefully. 
"The works." 
"Outstanding. I'll see you in about an hour." Click. 
What the devil? Well he would have to tell me all about it when 
he got home I thought. We had the whole weekend. Of course I 
had a few things to discuss with him this weekend as well. 
Scully flashed into my head. I wondered how she was doing 
with her mom. I knew they were probably having a blast. 
Maggie was a lot of fun to be around. I toyed with the idea of 
calling Scully. No, this weekend was for Walter and me. I 
smiled and taking my jacket off walked back out to the coat 
closet near the front door. 
By 8:30 I had drunk my Diet Coke, stowed my gear in Walter's 
bedroom and put my shaving kit in his bathroom. It looked really 
good to see my kit sitting next to his toiletries. Homey. I loved 
his new bathroom too. He had a damn whirlpool tub in it. A huge 
mother it was too. That was the other reason Walter had bought 
into this apartment. Hell I would have fought like a demon to get 
this place. No question. I know Walter probably loved soaking in 
that tub after a day like today. I decided on the spot that when 
he got home I would draw a nice steaming tub for him to relax 
in. He could lie back with his bourbon and if I played my cards 
right I could join him. It was an inspired idea. I was practically 
vibrating with expectation.  
I exited the bathroom and headed back down to the kitchen to 
reheat the Thai food. I purposely purchased dishes I knew from 
experience would warm up well. Leftovers are a Mulder 
specialty after all. I had decided to set the table in his small 
dining room. Table for two. Walter had candles on it all ready. I 
managed to scrounge up some matches. I'd light them just 
before nine and dim the lights. A nice romantic dinner for my 
big buddy. God we could both use it. 
I was going to use the microwave but then I thought what the 
hell - I'd use the oven on low and nuke what wasn't hot enough 
when he got back. So, with the food in the oven I found my way 
down into his sunken living room and the mammoth sound 
system Walter has against the back wall. 
I had left my CDs on top of the rack where he keeps his 
collection. I pulled out one of my discs from the small stack. 
*Kettle Whistle* - Jane's Addiction. The CD goes into the Sony 
Player. It looks a little bereft on the platter all alone - just like me 
in this huge empty apartment. I need to rock and roll here for a 
few minutes to banish the last of my loneliness. To make the 
minutes fly by until my Walter arrives. 
I push the drawer in and the winding noise tells me Mr. Perry 
Farrell's band is cueing up. I grab the remote and stub the 
volume up to a decent level. The first strains of the first track, 
the CDs title song, fill the apartment with their weird and 
wonderful harmonious discord. 
The food grew hot and so did I. I was dancing around between 
the kitchen and the sunken living room like a jackass to the 
song *Whore* when a loud, growling voice interrupted my 
Farrelesque gyrations. 
"Who the fuck is that, Mulder? And what the hell is he saying?" 
I hadn't, of course, heard his key in the lock. 
Perry was shouting out, *I love them whores,* at the top of his 
lungs and I was frantically looking for the remote. I spied it on 
the back of the couch and hastened to grab it, turning off 
Farrells' howls of *mutherfucker,* in mid squawk. 
*Jane's Addiction,* I wince, embarrassment dripping like the 
bead of sweat on the end of my nose. 
"Jane's Addiction to what, bad taste?" 
I crack up. Walter comes down from the front door, weariness 
making his shoulders sag. He drops his briefcase on the couch. 
He removes his black trench and tosses it over the briefcase. 
"Would you like me to hang that up?" I ask nodding towards the 
coat. Late October and the trenches were out all ready. It had 
been unseasonably cool. 
"I'll do it later," he smiles slightly, "you look good wet," he adds 
taking in my damp hair and the slightly sweat stained front of 
my t-shirt. I smile back. 
"Would you like a bourbon?" I ask. That makes him raise an 
eyebrow. 
"I thought I was out." 
"You were until I stopped at National Liquor." 
"Hmph," he grunts, "Psychic Friends Network?" 
"Something like that. So?" 
"Yeah, I'd love a bourbon." 
"All right, why don't you sit down and relax and I'll bring you 
one." I reply quietly gesturing towards the couch. He nods 
slowly and I exit to retrieve the bottle and a glass from his wet 
bar.  
When I returned he's seated on the couch, facing away from 
me and staring towards the now silent Sony entertainment 
center. I walk around the couch. I poured the bourbon before I 
left the bar. I hand him the glass and he loosens his tie before 
he tips the tumbler to his lips. I watch as he takes the fiery, 
amber colored fluid into his mouth and swallows. His eyes 
close. When the first shot has done it's work he places the glass 
down carefully on the coffee table and glances at the bottle in 
my hand. 
"Good choice, Mulder. That's first rate hooch. But you can take 
the bottle away. I think one will do me tonight," he smiles wanly. 
He looks exhausted, headachy. Hell he looks like shit warmed 
over. Christ! Warmed over! I almost forgot about the meal. I 
take the bottle and make a quick exit for the kitchen. 
"I'll be right back. I need to check on the food," I call back over 
my shoulder. 
When I return Walter is standing by the dining room table taking 
in the two place settings and the glow of the long candles in their 
holders. He has a very soft look on his face. The candlelight 
plays across his glasses. Christ he looks handsome. Like some 
kind of Medieval Knight home from the wars with the light from 
a stone castle fireplace playing across his skin. 
He looks over at me. "I'm sorry I was late, Mulder. This is 
really...I don't know what to say." 
"You don't need to say anything, Walter. Do you want to eat? 
The food's ready." 
"Sure. Thanks," he nodded, "But let me help you haul it out at 
least. I don't want to feel like Ozzie and Harriet here." 
I laugh, "I think you're more a Ward anyway, Walter. But, yeah, 
come on. I can use the help." 
"You'd like shit in pearls, Mulder," he quipped as we headed into 
the kitchen. 
The food was good. I did ok on the dishes but then like I said - 
leftovers are a specialty. We had eaten in companionable 
silence mostly. I did ask him about Spender and was met with a 
frown. One thing Walter will not do is talk about another agent. 
Usually. He will on those occasions when the agent's actions 
impact the X-Files or the Conspiracy. When the actions directly 
affect Scully and my work. Spender has come under that 
heading before. Walter does know Jeffrey hates my guts over 
the issue of his mother disappearance and the Gibson Praise 
business. He was forthcoming about Spender then. But the jury 
is still out with him on Spender's possible role in the Conspiracy. 
I think as soon as I have proof however, we'll do a hell of a lot of 
talking about old Jerkwad. Oh yeah. 
But Jeff's debacle in Virginia wasn't really any of my business 
and Walter's frown and "you know I'm not going to discuss what 
you overheard, Mulder," comment ended that discussion. 
The rest was small talk. I was really waiting for Walter to tell me 
what happened after his last meeting of the day. I knew he'd get 
around to Casey's Bar. Eventually he did. 
I had gone to the can and when I came back he was pouring us 
some coffee from the pot he'd started before the meal. He 
walked out of the kitchen and brought the mugs back out to the 
table. 
"Thanks," I said. 
"This is Sumatran. Let me know if you like it," he remarked as 
he handed me the mug. 
I sipped it. "It's good, smooth. Not too acidic." 
"Yeah, that's why I like it. Easier on the gut. Casey serves it - 
that's were I found out about it," he replied taking a sip from his 
own mug.
Bingo. OK, here it comes, I thought. 
"Wanna drink it in the living room?" I suggest. I think this might 
be a comfy chair or couch conversation. 
"Good idea," he agreed glancing back towards the living room 
group. 
So, we're sitting on the couch together slugging down our 
coffee. Walter finally gets to the point. Well I told you once he 
isn't exactly *Mr. Communicative* didn't I? Especially when it 
comes to awkward emotional moments that deal with his 
sexuality. So...  
"Jana Cassidy," he growls out, "Christ, what a cunt." 
I almost choked on my coffee. Well that was fucking direct. I 
put my mug down on the coffee table. I thought I'd be better off 
without a mouth full of strangulation for the next few minutes 
maybe?  
"I take it the meeting didn't go well?" 
"That's the strange thing - it went really well. Budget shit, but 
painless. We had a few sticking points but by and large it went 
routinely. 
"So what has you codifying AD Cassidy's anatomy?" 
He shakes his head, "You're not going to believe this, guy."  
"Try me." 
"Ok, but you asked for it." 
I settled back to listen. I had the sneaking suspicion that we 
were in for an *All About Eve* evening. The proverbial *Hang 
on, it's going to be a bumpy night* to paraphrase Ms. Bette 
Davis. 
"Well I thought she hated my living guts, Mulder. After I got 
done with your OPR hearing and rubbing her nose in the office 
revamp I figured she'd want my balls on a spit." 
"And she doesn't?" 
"No. As it turns out she just wants my balls. Or maybe I should 
say she wants my cock and balls." 
"You're shitting me?" 
"I wish I was." 
"She has the hots for you? 
"I sort of got that idea tonight, yeah," he answered drinking the 
last of his coffee. He sat the mug next to mine on the coffee 
table and turned to look at me. 
"She was extremely cooperative during that meeting Mulder. I 
mean uncharacteristically so. I should have smelled a rat then. 
But I just figured there wasn't really anything to gripe about 
budgetwise so she had pulled in her claws for the night." 
"So, what..." 
"I'm getting to it, OK?" 
"Sorry, go on." 
"Fine. All right. After the meeting, which ended at 6:30 by the 
way, she followed me back to my office. The whole way she's 
going on and on about Kimberly Cook. I'm thinking what the hell 
is wrong with this woman? Does she covet my executive 
assistant or what?"  
"Office rumors ride again?" 
"No shit. She was trolling to see how I felt about Kim. As in was 
I screwing her. What a crock of shit. You know how she is 
though - very skillful in her questioning." 
"I thought about as subtle as a chainsaw, actually..." 
"Only when she wants to tighten the screws, Mulder. You've 
never been in an executive level meeting with her. She's like 
quicksilver and twice as poison." 
"So, what did you say to this gentle probing?" 
"I flat out asked her if she was trying to hire Kimberly away. I 
mean that was all I could think to say. What was I going to say - 
"She gives great head? Bull shit." 
"Well does she?" 
"Mulder, get serious..." 
"Sorry, I couldn't resist." 
"Look, I told her if she could offer her more salary and better 
advancement potential to give it a shot. Hell, Kim isn't tied to my 
coattails. She has every right to try to climb the fucking ladder." 
"Yeah, but I think Kim would have told her to go take a flying 
fuck." 
"Probably. But that was beside the point. She should be given 
the opportunity to tell Jana to go screw." 
"I get your point." 
"Fuckin' A." 
"Listen, you want some more coffee?" I asked him. My mouth 
was getting a little dry. I would have offered bourbon but I didn't 
see that as a good idea given his surly man visage. 
"No, I gotta take a piss as it is," he shook his head, "Excuse 
me," he added automatically as he got up. I went in and filled 
the coffee mugs anyway while he was gone. I knew he'd dry up 
too before this was done. I had just put them back on the low 
coffee table as he came back and sunk down on the couch. 
Somewhere along the trip he had removed his tie and gun, 
discarding them. 
So, how did you end up at Casey's?" I asked trying to move the 
conversation along. 
"Well she said she'd give the *Kimberly issue* some thought. 
And in the meantime could she buy me a drink in way of an 
apology. Sort of a blanket apology I guess since she threw in 
the fucking hearing and all the stonewalling over the basement 
office renovation."  
"And you went with this madwoman?" 
"Shit, yes. She was buying and I really wanted to hear her eat 
crow Mulder. It was pretty hard to resist the invitation." 
"I guess..." 
"So, we went down to Casey's. It's close." 
"And you ended up hiding from her in the men's room?" 
"Was it that obvious? Shit." 
I started to chuckle, "The toilet flushing was a bit of a giveaway, 
Walter." 
"No I mean that I was hiding. Christ I hope she didn't realize I 
was running away from her." 
"What the fuck did she do?" 
"She was feeling me up, Mulder." 
"Groping you?" 
"Hell yes!" 
"Oh my, I'll have to have a word with our Jana, won't I?" I am 
really finding it hard not to laugh out loud here. The look on 
Walter's face is something to behold. The expression is a cross 
between John Cleese at his most outraged, and Truman Capote 
having a hissy fit. If Walter wasn't so aggressively butch I'd tell 
him he'd make a great Dame Edna for Halloween. But I think 
he'd rip my throat out. 
"If you breath a word of this to anyone, Mulder, I'll put you on 
VCS consults for the rest of your unnatural life." 
"Forewarned is forearmed," I raise my hands, grinning my 
surrender. 
"You'll do well to remember that fact," he nods. I notice he is 
reaching for the coffee now. See, I know my man. 
After a big swig of java he lets the rest come out in a rush. I just 
watch and listen to the words flow. Walter on a roll is a 
mesmerizing site. He claims *not* to have the gift of gab. I beg 
to differ. 
"So anyway, there we are in Casey's. "Let's get a booth, 
Skinner. I hate sitting at the bar in a skirt" Oh yeah, I bet baby. 
Those stools make a skirt ride up. But then again a booth is 
more private and we can sit a hell of a lot more close can't we 
*Spider Woman*? A nice dark booth. Bourbon. I think she had 
three of them before things went south. South? No shit. She's 
practically sitting in my lap telling me how she admired 
my...forcefulness. She's making little boozy breathings into my 
ear and batting her eyelashes. She starts going on and on about 
how she likes it when a man stands up to her. Most don't know 
how to handle her strength. What a crock of bullshit. I may be 
queer but I know a come on when I see it - from a woman I 
mean. I was married for God's sake. So she's telling me how 
she'd like to get to know me better - I mean the whole nine 
yards. We'd make a great team, Walter. Damn it. I'd rather 
*team-up* with the fucking Wicked Witch of the West and 
Glinda the Good Witch too. Witch? Hell, somebody oughta drop 
a house on fucking Jana I'll tell you." 
See what I mean? Stream of consciousness and he just lets it 
all come out if you let him go at it. Even if I wasn't a 
psychologist I'd find it fascinating. As his lover I find it 
illuminating if a little sad. He really needs someone to talk to, 
you know. I'm more than glad to be here to do it. He had 
stopped to catch his breath however, and take another swig of 
coffee. Second mug empty, buddy mine. I threw in the obvious 
question to get him revved up again. 
"So when did she grope ya, big guy." 
"Right under the fucking table. She has very educated hands 
that woman. Jesus. I'm sitting there ogling her with my mouth 
open because she's unzipped me for crying out loud. I..." 
"Did you get hard?" 
He hadn't really been looking at me up to that point. Most of this 
diatribe had taken place at attention. I mean *Marine drill, eyes 
straight ahead, back stiff and practically present arms sir*, 
attention. But now he turns slowly and pins my eyes. 
"What if I said yes?" he asked. 
I shrug. How could I complain about his getting hard for a 
woman under the circumstances. That would be the pot calling 
the kettle black wouldn't it?" 
"I wouldn't be surprised. As you said - you were married, Walter. 
You function with woman. You must get aroused by them in 
that case. I'm not jealous or offended over it if that's what's 
worrying you." 
"It was a surprise, that's all, Mulder. I mean she's such a bitch. 
The last person I would expect to give me a woody. Christ on a 
crutch. 
"Well, shit happens. I get hard for Scully sometimes," I added 
sympathetically. I might as well take the opportunity to lay the 
groundwork on that little item too I thought as he blinked at me. 
"Really? Well I can understand that with her. But I mean, Jana 
Cassidy?" 
"Whatever, Walter." 
"It was damned awkward." 
"I can imagine. Did you tell her you weren't that kind of boy?" 
"I told her to get her hand the hell out of my pants." 
"Did she get pissy about it?" 
"No, she just zipped me up, giggled, and asked if I wanted to go 
back to her place and continue the conversation. That Christ-
awful giggle froze my blood let me tell you. I didn't have to 
worry about the friggin' jones anymore either. Shit - my nuts 
headed north." 
"I bet that's when you hid in the can." 
"No shit. I had to have a couple of minutes to think. I sure as hell 
didn't want to go back to her penthouse. She lives all the way 
the fuck in Annapolis anyway. But I had to think of an 
inoffensive way to make an excuse." 
"After telling her to get the hell out your pants?" 
"I didn't use those words, Mulder. Cut me some slack." 
"Fine. What did you do then?" 
"I told her I was expecting company this evening and really had 
to get home. But I did offer to drive her home as a courtesy. 
Thank God she turned me down." 
I nodded. Well...point for Walter. At least he was as honest as 
he could be considering the company was yours truly. 
"So you were off the hook." I stated for the record. 
"Not quite." I hear an alarm bell going off here. Something is 
burning in my gut and it isn't the spicy Thai food we had for 
dinner. 
"No?" 
"No. We went outside. I was trying to hail her a cab when she 
let's the last bomb drop." 
"Which was?" 
"Well you know the Directors Halloween Ball is next weekend?" 
Yeah, shit. It sure was next weekend. Scully and I were going. I 
hate those things but she sees them as political opportunities 
and enjoys going. I like the free food and the chance to see her 
decked out to the nines. But, Scully also sees those Bureau 
affairs as a way to stick it to all the assholes who come up to 
her and call her Ms. Spooky and similar utter shit. She takes a 
perverse pleasure in putting herself in that situation so she can 
flame the unlikely son of a bitch, male or female, who insults 
either one of us. I like to just lean against the wall and watch her 
work a room. She has the most engaging smile. So 
approachable is my Dana. But watch out turkey, that smile has 
sharp, pointy teeth. So, we would be there next Saturday. Me in 
my tailored tux with condescending smile pasted on, and Scully 
in strapless black with her acid wit scalpel ready for dissecting 
morons. 
"Don't tell me?" 
"Yeah, I'm her date." 
"Oh fuck, Walter how did you get yourself into that one?" I 
groan. I knew it was coming. Oh for God's sake. 
"Come on, Mulder, I couldn't say no. She backed me into a 
fucking corner. If I'd said no it would have been a bad political 
move. I..." 
"Politically incorrect? After what she did to you earlier? Cut 
*me* some slack Walter. You're just encouraging the rotten 
wench. You should have told her to take a hike and then pushed 
her in front of the fucking cab when it pulled up." 
"You said you wouldn't be jealous," he replied quietly. Oh bloody 
marvelous. Now he's going to pout. I thought that was my 
department. I sigh. 
"I'm not jealous. I just don't want to see you have to go through 
this whole hassle. I mean..." 
"What the fuck do you expect? We're in the fucking closet. It's 
been this way for me for years, baby. It's why I haven't let 
myself even...why I haven't gotten close to anyone. It's just too 
God damned painful. Fffuck it." he stutters out, slamming his 
fist down on the couch arm. Before I can stop him he gets up 
and heads out of the sunken living room. 
"Excuse me, I have to take another piss," he barks, stalking off. 
I just sit there, temporarily stunned. Well this evening is going to 
hell in a hand cart. Lord God I hope our discussion regarding 
Scully goes better than this mess. If we ever get to that 
discussion. At this rate, I'll be sleeping on the couch at the very 
least - back on my own couch under the worst case scenario. 
Piss on it indeed. I decide to go after him. I have to do 
something to salvage the situation. 
The bathroom door is shut. I try the knob. It's locked? He's 
locked himself in the bathroom? Oh for heavens sake. I rap on 
the door, "Walter?" 
No answer. I pound. 
"What?" 
"Come on man, open the door" 
"Leave me alone Mulder." 
"Walter if you don't open this door I'm going to kick it in." 
"Fuck you. You don't have the balls." 
That did it. He's not the only butch bastard in this apartment. 
"Have it your way," I hiss. I step back almost to the opposite 
wall, aim and place my kick directly at the knob and lock. The 
door crashes open with a satisfying wood shattering smack. 
Walter had been sitting on the edge of the whirlpool, his head in 
his hands it looked like. But his heads up now, and his eyes are 
popping wide open.  
"Federal Agent, get your fucking hands up!" I yell out in my best 
G-man voice. 
And he does. I have to laugh. But he's laughing too. There are 
tears in his eyes but I know they aren't from the laughter. They 
were there when he looked up. But now I'm making him laugh. 
Thank God. Maybe we can salvage this thing. 
"Now what was that comment about my balls?" I mock growl at 
him. 
"You're not going to get an argument," he chokes shaking his 
head in amazed amusement. 
"I should hope not." 
"But look at my damn door. Mulder, the landlord is gonna 
crucify me." 
I walk over in front of him and take his raised hands in mine, 
pulling him up, "Just tell him to kiss your ass Walter. You are the 
AD after all." I draw him close and kiss him full on the lips. Oh 
yeah. He's The Man all right. 
He moves in against me eagerly and he's swallowing me. I love 
this about Walter. He's a quick study. I can still remember that 
first tentative kiss in Baton Rouge. God damn. The big guy gets 
it on good. No tentativeness now. No sir. 
The heat between us is palpable. He's igniting me and I'm willing 
tinder under his large, rough, warm hands. When we finally 
come up for air I manage to croak out a suggestion. 
"Let's go to bed, Walter." 
His whole face shines with a smile of relief and pleasure.  
"Yeah," he nods and I take his hand as we walk down the short 
hall to his bedroom. 
Walter turns on a single lamp. We're bathed in it's delicate 
mellow glow. It doesn't take either one of us long to get naked. I 
throw my socks and they land on the night stand, covering my 
Smith and Wesson and his Glock where they lie side by side. 
We're entwined on the King sized bed before I've barely gotten 
my t-shirt off.  
Touching, stroking, tasting, touching some more. Both of us are 
hard as rocks and I love the feel of him against me as we grind 
against each others sweating flesh. His cock feels like a fucking 
steel beam. Walter's huge and every time I get a look at that 
weapon I almost explode. I mean Jesus - it's a work of art. 
"Walter..." I moan his name. He's working me all over now with 
his mouth and hands. He works his way, panting, back up to my 
face and we suck on each other for a second. Then he pulls 
back and looks at me. 
"Do you want me to blow you?" he asks. Well he must have 
been studying up. How nice. I guess our time apart wasn't 
wasted was it? 
"Oh yeah," I smile wide. I'm not going to come back with a 
smart wisecrack here folks. No way Mr. Hoover. 
"OK. Just tell me if you like it. I...well you know..." he shrugs 
slightly. Right. He hasn't done this before. Like I'm gonna care? 
At this point all he'd have to do is kiss it and I'm gonna shoot. It'll 
be a job for me to hold back. 
"Just do it, lover. I'm gonna love it. Don't worry." 
He grins and goes down with gusto. Lord it is good too. I try to 
hold back, to keep it up. I won't throw myself into him too hard 
anyway because I know I'll gag him if I do. As it is he does have 
a little trouble with the technique. But what he lacks in technique 
he makes up for in enthusiasm and enough natural talent. After 
a very short time he's relaxing and I'm able to thrust harder. He 
reduces me to groans before I even realize I'm making sounds. 
"Oh God," I hiss between clenched teeth. He's rimming me and 
I can't believe now that he's never done this before. I'm leaking 
and he's sucking it in. Oh Jesus. 
"Like it?" he whispers around the head of my cock. His breath 
tickles and it's puffing ecstasy. 
"Fuck," is all I can moan. I feel him smile around me. He 
swallows me again and that's all folks. I buck up one last time, 
hard. Oh hell, he's not going to be able to...I grab his head. I try 
to blurt out a warning but it's too late. I'm shooting cum like a 
rocket. He's choking on it. Shit. I knew he wasn't ready for me. 
"Oh man," I moan. I can't stop my hips from moving either. I'm 
on autopilot. Poor Walter. Talk about a baptism under fire here.  
I can hear him sputtering. He's let go of me but it's ok because 
my body is taking care of things on it's own now. I feel his fist 
close over me, God Bless him. Walter doesn't like to leave a job 
unfinished, no way. 
I figure he can use a little ego boost here. I know he's going to 
be embarrassed about gagging. 
"Oh Christ...s'gggood," I manage to grunt out. And I'm not lying 
in the least. 
He wrings me out until I know there can't be a drop left in my 
nuts. I fall back down flat and he shifts up next to me again.  
"You ok?" I ask wiping the cum off his chin. 
"I guess I need to practice a little." he replies, self-consciously. 
He bends over the edge of the bed and snags his BVDs to use 
as a fuckrag. 
"Try a beer bottle. That's the way I learned." 
"Yeah, I'll make sure I shake it up too," he chuckles. I lay back 
and shut my eyes for a moment while he trails a finger over my 
chest and stomach. I open them again when he starts sucking 
on my nipples. 
"Hey, what about your turn?" I ask pushing him back a little. He 
blinks myopically down at me. Walter without his glasses is 
somewhat at a disadvantage. 
"I can wait a while, man. It's just that, well I haven't touched you 
like this, hell, since Baton Rouge. I wanted...I wanted to give 
you back some of what you gave me that night. I can't tell you 
how much this means to me, Mulder." he replied quietly. 
Oh sweet Jesus. And you wonder why my heart belongs to this 
man? I tell you, I'm the luckiest fucker in the whole wide weird 
world to have Walter Skinner and Dana Scully at my side. It's a 
freaking miracle either one of them even entertains the thought 
that I'm worthy enough to lick their boots. Truly. 
"Walter, I want you to fuck me," I whisper touching his face. 
There. And I meant it too. I wanted his cock. I needed to feel 
him in me. To feel that connection with him now. I loved him 
and this was the final act I could offer to prove it. To let him 
possess me and watch my face when he did. I know he wanted 
it too really, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not 
tonight. 
"Oh, man...I...don't..." 
I reached down and caressed his hard length, "Walter you have 
to realize I want this thing in me. God damn it, you're torturing 
me here." I chuckle. 
"Fuck," he shakes his head and laughs again, "What can I say 
when you put it that way?" 
"Now you're talking. You got any lube?" 
"Yeah, hang on," he nods getting off the bed quickly. See. I 
knew he'd given this some thought. Of course maybe he's just 
using it to fist himself but...I don't exactly think so. 
He's back double time with the Astroglide. 
"Do you want me to use a rubber?" he asks. 
"Not unless you really want to. You know we're clean. I don't 
have a preference there, big man. I use one if I want to keep it 
up longer, though. So, whatever..." 
"Mulder I have to tell you something," he replied, suppressing a 
grin. 
"What?" 
"I can keep it up all night if I concentrate." 
Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven. 
"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow and glance down at his straining 
erection. 
"Oh yeah, baby. At my age one a night might have to last so..." 
"Holy boner, Batman." 
He cracks up as he moves back onto the bed and lies next to 
me. I can tell he's waiting for me to make the next move. I take 
the Astroglide out of his hands and motion for him to sit up. I sit 
up too and face him. 
"All right. Let's test that claim, Mr. AD. Hold still." I advise staring 
him in the eyes. He lets his body relax and he stays stock still. 
It's very eerie. I'm not sure he's even breathing. Shit. Special 
Forces training I think. You have to stay quiet and immobile for 
long periods in the jungle. Remind me never to go camping or 
hunting with Walter. 
I uncap the lube and squeeze some out into my hands. I warm it 
and then I take his cock. I sit there lubing him up with long, 
delicate strokes. The whole time I never stop looking in his 
eyes. I can see the awareness there, the arousal builds and 
builds. But he isn't coming. Ok. So the guy does have incredible 
control. God damn. I let go of his dick and concede defeat. 
"Hell, Walter. Why the fuck didn't you mention that little trick in 
Baton Rouge?" 
"You didn't ask me," he laughs and his whole body comes back 
to animation. 
We're both laughing together again and I hug him close. I smear 
lube all over his back. 
"Sorry man," I end up wiping my hands and his back with his 
BVDs as well. 
"So how do you want this Mulder?" he whispers once the 
shaking from the laughter stops. 
"I'd like to see your face Walter." 
He studies my face for a moment. Even so I almost miss the 
almost imperceptible nod of his head. 
"Show me," he replied, his voice rough with passion. 
I lie back flat and motion for him. The embrace is so 
unbelievable I start to tremble. I can't help it. I'm going into 
sensory overload here. We're skin to skin, total body contact 
from head to toe. Walter's powerful, muscled body moves over 
me, loving me, sending me to some other land. Or maybe I 
really am dying and on my way to heaven. My lips and tongue 
trace a pattern over his ear. 
"I love you," I whisper. 
"Oh God," he moans. I lift my knees up and spread my legs for 
him. He settles in nice and comfy and raises up on his elbows a 
little to grab the Astroglide. Most of the lube has come off his 
cock and gone onto me so he shifts, to sit up, and lube himself 
again with that much heralded concentration. 
"Walter?" 
"Yeah, baby?" 
"It's been a while, uh..." No kidding. He's going to split me in two 
if he rams that sucker in without some preparation. 
He smiles at me and moves closer. Three fingers are in before I 
even have to worry about it. God oh God. It has been too long. 
This feels so good, so right. I can't give voice to my thoughts at 
all in that moment. I look up into Walter's face and I know 
instantly that wanting this was the right decision and seeing his 
face a sublime vision and privilege. He angles up to brush my 
prostate and I'm crying to God out loud then. He must have 
remembered what I did to him in Baton Rouge because now 
he's letting his large fingers pump in and out of me and I'm 
writhing under his touch. 
"Uhhhh, Walter! Please...I want your cock. Do me, you 
fucker..." I'm moaning, twitching, begging for his dick 
shamelessly now. I don't care what he thinks about it because 
I'm beyond caring. I just want him to fuck me up the ass. 
"Oh Jesus, baby, " he croons. I know he's at a loss as to what to 
do with me. I have just enough mind left to lift my legs up and 
position them on his shoulders. I feel him gasping as he sinks 
into me. His breath is coming faster because I know he's trying 
really hard not to hurt me. It does hurt. But I'm surprised and 
grateful at how short the pain lasts and how quick I feel the 
ecstasy of that thick cock of his filling me. He grunts one last 
deep sigh and leans against my ass. His balls are touching my 
left butt cheek. I think he got a little off target. We both savor the 
feeling of being connected for a few seconds. Walter's eyes are 
shut. 
"Shift over and get comfortable, lover," I whisper touching his 
chest. He opens his eyes and looks into mine. I want to die with 
the sweetness of that gaze. When he does shift I groan loudly. 
It's too fucking good. 
"Are you ok?" he grates out quickly. 
"Hell yes. Believe me I'm not groaning from pain." 
"You feel wonderful," he leans down and caresses my cock. It's 
hard again and I have to shut my eyes. 
"Fuck me, Walter," I just manage to hiss out. He growls 
incoherently and taking either side of my hips in his hands he 
pulls out and thrusts slowly back in. That's it - I'm gone. My 
eyes fly open and I can't believe the sound that comes out of 
me. It doesn't even sound human. Somewhere at the end of the 
animal howl I think the word *harder* tagged along. But I wasn't 
sure. It mostly sounded so primitive my brain couldn't really 
process it. Walter's response is in kind. His primitive man has 
taken over big time. He begins to piston into me without thought, 
pounding against me. He has a few words sprinkled amongst 
the caveman grunting. Mostly *fuck* but he does manage to 
croak out *love you* once. 
I'm not even sure he knows where he is anymore and I don't 
care because I'm over the rainbow as well. He's bending over 
close and with each thrust of his hips he's bumping and rubbing 
my swollen cock. I know dimly that I won't even need a fist to 
get off. Just the continuous friction of his hard washboard 
stomach is going to make me blow up like a land mine. 
We're relatively silent now. Just gasping, some grunting and lots 
of slapping flesh. I can sense him tensing through his cock. He 
was right though. He's kept it up for a long time. Long enough 
for me to get harder and come myself when he finally angles up 
correctly and slams into my prostate. And I come all right, hard. 
Like a jackhammer. My muscles are clamping down on 
Walter's driving cock too and I'm screaming his name as I squirt 
milky fluid all over his stomach. 
"Oh God, baby, that's it, that feels so Goddamned...oh fuck," he 
blurts out. He looks into my face and suddenly he's screaming 
too but no sound's coming out. His face is totally transformed, 
beautiful, like a sculpture of a primitive God. An idol to be 
worshipped. I can see him, feel him shatter. He explodes into 
me. The force of his orgasm sending him thrusting deep. The 
cum backflows out because he's shooting so violently. I have to 
catch him when he collapses on top of me, half senseless. Both 
of us are sweating profusely and gasping like marathon 
runners. 
"I love you," he whispers as I cradle him between my legs.  
xXx 
"You still with me Walter?" I ask as I trail a hand over the knee 
that sticks up out of the water. I'm leaning back against my 
human hot tub mattress as he rests his satiated form behind 
me. 
"Hmmm? Oh. Definitely," he mumbles with a gruff chuckle.  
"Isn't this better than a shower?" 
"Unquestionably," he grunts rubbing his leg along mine. I can 
feel his cock under me. It's limp but just it's presence feels 
fabulous. 
After the loving both of us lay stunned but Walter somehow 
found the energy to pull out and roll off me and onto his back so 
that I could finally catch my breath. The loss of his flesh from 
inside me was painful both physically and emotionally. I never 
wanted to let him go. But both pains faded quickly when he 
drew me close and kissed my forehead. The bed was a total 
wreck. Sweat, cum, Astroglide and wrinkled cotton do not a 
comfortable bower make. A shower was in order before bed. 
And one of us would have to find the oomph to change the 
sheets. Then I remembered my earlier idea regarding bourbon 
and his hot tub. We both did find the energy to make it as far as 
the bathroom. And my legs did carry me out to and back from 
the bar, booze bottle and two tumblers in hand. 
Now The Boss and I were nestled in steaming hot tub luxury, 
bourbons on the wide edge, and Walter was acting as a pillow 
as I lay back into his broad, muscular chest. 
"Wanna go again?" he chuckles as he reaches for the bourbon. 
I can feel him taking a sip. 
"Can you get it up?" 
"Fuck no." 
"Well then." 
He purrs another rumbling laugh and it feels like a huge jungle 
cat, a Bengal tiger, is lying behind my naked ass. I feel him set 
the bourbon down. One large hand snakes around my stomach, 
travels lower. Teasing, touching, knowing. 
"My getting hard again doesn't enter into it," he whispers into my 
ear as he hefts my cock up in his hand. 
"Oh Lord God and all the angels in heaven." I breath out in a 
rush. 
"Some of my agents think I'm more Devil then God," he 
whispers again. His breath plays against my face. I stretch my 
head back, arching my neck along his neck and head until I'm 
taunt against him. I close my eyes. I'm trembling once more. 
"They're wrong," I gasp as he starts to fist me. I'm hard after 
two strokes of his hot, wet hand. 
"Are you sure, agent?" 
"Sure? Hell yes. And why should I care?" 
"You should care about your soul, boy," he continues to breath 
against the side of my neck. I feel like a cello or base and his 
fingers are plucking my strings. 
"My soul?" A nebulous, ephemeral, doubtful subject in my 
mind. 
"Whether you care if you're damned or not...Fox," he licks my 
neck along the jugular and then he bites me, not hard, but hard 
enough to make me hiss. I groan as he sucks over where the 
blood pounds so close to the surface. I bet if he tried he could 
taste it right through my flesh just by sucking. 
"If this is damnation, Walter, then let me burn in hell," I moan. 
He removes his mouth from my skin so that he can speak. And 
it's a command. My blood boils in my arteries, flowing like 
molten lava into my brain as he grinds out the words. 
"Then burn." 
Burn? I detonated. My hoarse, guttural shout rents the air. I 
geyser cum up out of the water like fucking Moby Dick coming 
to the oceans surface to breath. My hips thrust up violently and 
I'm arching my back so hard I feel like I could snap my spine. 
He keeps cranking me and water is splashing out of the hot tub 
all over the floor around us from my thrashing. 
"Oh yeah, baby," he purrs over and over. "Oh yeah." 
xXx 
I raise one gummy eyelid and peer cautiously around. I have no 
idea what woke me up. It certainly wasn't the alarm. I am aware 
enough to know this is Saturday morning. 
It could have been Walter. He's lying next to me, on his back, 
arms splayed out, mouth open, snoring like a buzz saw. Jesus. 
The morning after. Well, sometimes your partner isn't a very 
pretty sight. I imagine I don't look any better. I know my hair is 
going in a million different directions and I can tell from the taste 
that I have a mammoth case of morning mouth. My bladder is 
bursting as well. I slide over to the edge of the bed and get up 
quietly, padding off towards Walter's bathroom. 
The sheets were nice and clean, cool and crisp for sliding 
smoothly off the bed. I ended up changing them last night. I was 
the first back into the bedroom because Walter had wanted to 
wipe up the bathroom floor. When I went back to his room and 
saw the sheets I practically ran to the linen closet. There had 
been some blood. Well it had been a while for me. I know if 
Walter had seen it though he would have freaked out. I stripped 
the bed down and balled up the evidence, throwing it into his 
laundry basket. I squashed the bundle down as far as I could 
and hoped he wouldn't notice anything untoward on laundry 
day. 
The aforementioned bathroom is spotless this morning. I'm 
standing with my hand on the wall in back of his toilet, my other 
hand around myself watering the mule. I'm a little sore. At both 
ends. Like I said - it's been a while. My undercover man is hung 
like a horse after all. I think next time we'll work a little longer on 
the foreplay maybe. But I'm not complaining. I feel at peace 
and very, very happy. It's not exactly a novel feeling. Think 
Scully and you'll know why. But I haven't had this feeling with a 
man in eons. So, I won't argue with the sentiment at all. 
I wash up a little, grab some mouthwash, spit and rinse. Then 
it's back to snuggle up for a while next to my big bed warmer. 
When I get back to the bedroom, Walter is waking up a little 
himself. He's squinting at me from under the covers. When he's 
finally able to focus on me he holds the covers up and I walk 
forward and slide back under them. We move close and lie face 
to face.  
"I bet you're sorry you don't wear glasses, Mulder," he chuckles, 
running a hand over his jaw and up along the fringe of hair that 
circles his head. 
I touch his hip under the covers and then run my hand down to 
cup his balls. I trail my hand down his cock, running a finger 
around the tip when I get to the end. 
"There's a lot to be said for being in the country of the blind, 
Walter. Other senses, like touch, become highly amplified."  
"And smell," he laughs, reaching down to take my hand from 
between his legs. He kisses my palm and shakes his head. He 
must be sore too - or maybe just a bit tired yet. In any event, 
nookie is not in the cards. I don't care. Just lying here with 
Walter is more than enough for me this morning. 
"Are you inferring I smell this morning?" I mock frown into his 
eyes. 
"You smell like Scope mouthwash, babe." he yawns, "And I can 
smell coffee too." 
My sinuses are never the best in the morning. I'd missed the 
coffee perking. 
"When the hell did you set up the coffee maker?" 
"After I swabbed out the bathroom last night. It's that Sumatran. 
It should be ready by now." 
Christ. He has more stamina then I thought. After the workout 
we had last night I'm still surprised either one of us was able to 
stand and walk much less change the sheets, clean up the can 
and set *Mr. Coffee* on automatic. I guess our exercise 
regimens have been successful. But then again in our line of 
work if you don't stay in shape you can get dead. 
"Do you want a cup now?" 
"In a little while. Do you mind if we just...if we stay here for a 
while?" he whispers, shy again. Oh my Mr. Mercurial. It's cute. I 
guess he thinks I'm going to jump up and be on my way? Fat 
chance. I may be hyper a lot of the time but I covet my post 
coital cuddling. 
"I'd like that, Walter," I smile. I can tell he wants me to hold him 
so I lay down flat. He shifts up and lays his head on my chest. I 
wonder how come he's not up for a piss. 
"Hey, don't you need to use the..." 
"I woke up earlier. I'm on empty. Do you know you look about 
sixteen when you're asleep." 
"Does that appeal? They'll be calling you *Chicken Hawk* next 
if you're not careful." 
"I guess that's better than "Old Man," he chuckles. 
"I don't think that's a danger after last night, Mr. Everhard," I 
quip. 
He laughs but then I can feel him frowning slightly against my 
pectoral muscle. 
"What?" 
"I'm sorry about Jana, man. I...I'll let her down easy next 
weekend, somehow. I mean it." he mumbles against my chest 
hair.  
"Don't angst over it, Walter. If nothing else I'll send Scully after 
her. She's coming with me to that shindig." 
I can feel his rumbling laughter again, "Shit, yeah. I'd pay to see 
that cat fight." 
"Well, I'll see what I can do. I'll bring the Nine Lives and we'll see 
what transpires." 
"Deal," he yawns against my nipple. 
"Why don't you catch some more Zs, Main Man?" I suggest.  
"I could use them." 
"Well, we don't have any special plans do we?" 
"Nope. I need to do some grocery shopping, errands, shit like 
that but..." 
"Then, sweet dreams big guy." 
He slept till noon. I got up around 9, threw on my boxer briefs 
and t-shirt, and had some coffee. I had to catch, amongst other 
cartoons, Johnny Quest. They were continuing the *Mud Men* 
adventure. Jesus Race Bannon's a hunk. No wonder I like 
Walter. Benton Quest was a cretin if he didn't take advantage of 
what his kid's guardian angel had to offer there. Clueless lab 
boy I guess. 
Walter waltzed out at noon - naked as a Jaybird. Lord have 
mercy. I will definitely have to stay over in nosebleed heaven 
more often. At this height neighbors seeing in the window is 
obviously not an issue. Even Race can't hold my attention when 
Walter's hard naked ass is moving in my vicinity. 
"Coffee's still hot," I pant out as he crosses into the kitchen. 
"Thanks," he replied. 
He comes back out carrying his mug and sits down at the end 
of the couch. 
"Ah, Race Bannon," he chuckles, "Why did I think you probably 
watched this show?" 
I chuckle and take another sip of my Sumatran. 
"Yeah, well I see you're parading your assets for me this 
morning. Afraid of the competition?" I joke gesturing my head 
towards the TV screen. 
"What do you think?" he grunts, running a hand down his chest 
and stomach. Jesus. OK. So this guy has a little more 
confidence then I thought. But I know it's probably new 
bravado. But any man who can make me scream like a 
banshee would have to get some egoboo out of it. It's nice to 
see. 
"I think your a cockteaser, Mr. Assistant Director." 
"Tease me, please me," he retorts. 
"Fuck you, Wally. Listen, do you want some breakfast? I'm 
wasting away here." 
"Brunch." 
"Whatever Mr. Universe. I gotta nosh or I'll die." 
He fixed me breakfast. I almost let him do if for me in the nude. 
But after careful consideration I changed my mind and he 
donned his robe. Two words - grease splatters. Enough said, 
Julia Childe.
And Walter is an excellent cook. Ham, cheese and vegetable 
omelets done to fluffy perfection. Orange juice, skim milk (oh 
yeah, we have to watch our figure), and more coffee. Well, I 
was full to bursting. Energy was flowing back into every sinew. I 
feel *more human than human* I thought. White Zombie. Oh, 
song title! And as soon as I thought it a gleeful idea popped right 
into my wicked little mind. Plans for tonight. Oh yeah. I saw a 
road trip in our future for after dark. Something with a little rock 
and roll in it I think. Electric, eclectic. Yup, clubbing. As in a 
boys night out at the dance club. I filed the thought away for 
later. If the opportunity presented itself I'd bring up an evening 
out with my prospective dance partner. We shall see. 
Of course I still had to discuss Scully. That possibility was 
proving to be a painful proposition. I just didn't know how to 
come around to it now. I mean things were going so well. I 
sighed. I would have to give it some serious consideration 
before long. Maybe tomorrow. God, I am such a chickenshit 
sometimes. 
"What's wrong?" Walter asked noticing my less than blissful 
look as I toyed with the last piece of my omelet, "if you're still 
worried about my getting hard for the *Iron Maiden* I can't tell 
you enough how..." 
Oh no. I hope I'm not going to hear this song repeated over and 
over like a broken record this weekend. I can certainly see that 
Walter hasn't quite conquered his insecurities despite his earlier 
body beautiful boasting. Well, have any of us really? I spear the 
last piece of egg and pop it into my mouth ruminating on my 
earlier Scully procrastination for a moment while he drones on 
about *Joltin' Jana*. 
OK. I guess this is a good enough opportunity. I gotta do 
something to get him past this bump in the road. His fear of 
bisexuality, or whatever the fuck is running through his head. 
Obviously he feels that if I think he might be attracted to women 
I'll jump the *Good Ship Lollipop* here or something. 
Well, it's high time I explain the way of my world I guess. It's 
going to be now or never. I take a deep breath. 
"Walter?" 
He stops mid sentence, "What?" 
"I'm going to say this once and once only. I could care less 
about your getting hard for Jana Cassidy. Case closed." 
"You're sure?" 
"Yes. Look, can we go sit down on the couch. We...I do need to 
talk about something in connection with this subject, however."  
I can see the color rising in his face. Oh shit. Please do not 
panic, I think. I lay a hand over his. 
"It's ok, Walter. It has nothing to do with the way I feel for you," I 
assure him - and that's perfectly true. He swallows hard and 
gets up wordlessly, heading for the couch. I follow and sit next 
to him. I take his hand and massage his fingers. God he has 
large hands. Mine are long and thin but his are just big. Wide. I 
love them.  
"What is it?" he asks quietly. 
"First of all, I love you, Walter. It's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you. 
Not now and not ever. Do you trust me?" 
"What do you think?" he asks. His eyes are like too obsidian 
jewels, black instead of brown at that moment as his emotions 
war across them. They glint behind his specs as if they're 
glowing with a dark fire. 
"I need to hear you say it, Walter." I can't have any doubt. I'm 
not as self confident either you see. In fact I'm a fucking bundle 
of neurosis, no question. Walter does not corner the market on 
lacking self confidence. No sir. 
"I trust you, Mulder." 
"All right. Listen to me and don't interrupt for a minute here. This 
is going to be hard for me, for us both I think. So I need to get it 
out, ok?" 
"Go for it," he sighs, and I do. 
"Walter, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know you 
appreciate honesty and directness. Scully and I are lovers."  
I think he stopped breathing. His hand falls out of mine and 
slaps into his lap, lifeless. Color drains out of his face. 
"You...you're sleeping with Scully?" he just manages to choke 
out. 
"Let me get you some more coffee..." 
"Fuck that...don't you dare leave it like that...what the 
fuck...Scully? Mulder...Christ..." He's reddening. 
"Walter, shut up." I spit out. He stops instantly. I can see him 
breathing now for sure. He's breathing hard, fighting for control. 
Control wins out. 
"All right. I'm sorry. I...I want to hear about it. How long has this 
been going on?" he asks. Always the AD. Let's get the facts on 
the table here, agent. 
"A while. Since before her cancer." I shrug, "Walter, I'm not gay. 
I'm bisexual. I love Dana Scully with all my heart and soul. Just 
like I love you. Do you hear me, Walter? I love you both more 
than life itself." 
He's looking at me, stunned. 
"I guess I know why you could care less about Cassidy," he 
shakes his head and turns away from me. 
I reach over to turn his head back but he flinches away.  
"Please..." is all I have time to say. 
"Mulder, can I ask you to leave?" 
"Walter..." 
'No, look. I...I just have to think this out, ok? It's all right. I...I just 
need some time alone." 
"I don't want to leave you alone, Walter. Not like this. Not now." I 
whisper. Fear grips my belly. I don't know what he'll do. I have 
visions of him hurting himself. 
"Mulder I'm not going to eat a bullet if that's what you're 
thinking. Believe me I've had more opportunities over the years 
to suck on my gun then to suck cock. So you can put that idea 
out of your head." 
My hands are shaking, "Walter, please don't ask me to leave, 
I'm...I'm begging you." 
"All right I won't," he grunts. Then he gets up and leaves the 
sunken living room. I can't move. I'm in shock. Impotent and 
paralyzed with sorrow. Walter isn't gone long. When he returns 
he's dressed in jeans, work boots and a soft, gray LL Bean 
sweater. He's still unshaved. His gun is on his belt. He has his 
keys in one hand and his cell phone in the other. 
"Where are you going?" I ask stupidly. 
"Out. Since you won't leave I will. I'm taking the Corvette. 
Driving helps me to think. Stay here if you like. I'll...I will come 
back." he crosses with finality to the coat closet and pulls out a 
jean jacket. The cell phone goes in the pocket. 
I take in the light jacket. He'll freeze if he puts the rag top down I 
think. 
"Wwwalter," I stutter, "The forecast said cold and...." 
Before I can get out the rest of the sentence his apartment door 
shuts behind him. Hot tears begin to course a trail down my 
cheeks. I fumble for my cell phone where I left it on the coffee 
table last night. I flip it open and hit the speed dial. I find it in me 
to pray that my call is answered. 
"Scully," the voice of my angel comes across the distance in 
answer to my prayers. 
"Scully..." I croak out. 
"Mulder? What's wrong?" she blurts out in alarm. 
"We...we need to talk." I sigh into the phone. 
xXx 
"Mulder, I'm sure he'll come back," Scully is trying to reassure 
me over the miles. 
She was instantly there for me when I explained what 
happened. It must have been awkward to talk because her 
mother was there but she told her it was Bureau business and 
went in the bedroom. I didn't want to keep her on long though. 
Mostly I just needed to hear her voice. 
"I just feel like I fucked the whole thing up." 
"Well, it was a hard subject to deal with, Mulder. Maybe...maybe 
I should have been there when..." 
"Uh, that probably wouldn't have been a good idea," I winced. 
"Well, so now what?" she asked. I could almost hear the shrug 
over the phone. We'd pretty much talked it all out. 
"I guess I sit and wait." 
"As good an idea as any..." she agreed. 
"But Scully?" 
"Yes?" 
"Never mind." 
"No, come on, Mulder. What?" 
"Could you maybe come back here tonight?" 
"Hell no." 
"See, I told you never mind." 
"Listen, Mulder. My mother and I are attending a concert 
tonight. Vivaldi. We're both looking forward to it." 
"No problem, forget I mentioned it." I tell her. I lay in just enough 
of a whine into my voice that she's starting to squirm. She is still 
a softy for the hurt puppy dog whine every once in a while. I'm 
hoping this is one of those times. 
"Mulder," she whines back. But I can tell I'm hooking her. I set 
the hook. 
"When he comes back /If he comes back?/ I'm taking him to 
*The Safehouse*." I can hear her breathing on the other end of 
the line. Land that fish, Mulder. 
"The Safehouse?" 
"Yep. We're putting on our dancing shoes tonight, Scully."  
"Mulder you haven't taken *me* to The Safehouse in a hundred 
years." Bingo. 
The Safehouse is one of the premiere dance clubs in DC. The 
fact that it just happens to be a gay club is just a lucky 
coincidence. It also really is a safe haven, and very discreet 
establishment. The place has a predominantly male clientele but 
women aren't absent. Scully loves it there because there is no 
pressure to see or be seen, no men drooling all over her 
(women sometimes, but they're intelligent and or polite enough 
to take no for an answer), and the music is loud, hot and 
eminently danceable. My Scully really likes to shake her booty. 
Oh yes sir. I have trouble keeping up with some of her moves 
on the dance floor. We go to the club when we have time. And 
we haven't had time in...well you know all about that. I told you 
earlier. 
At any rate, I know she'd want to go the minute I mentioned it. 
So I just kept up the temptation and wait for the clockwork 
gears in her head to turn. 
"I know darlin'. That's why I'm extending the invitation. You said 
you should have been here. Be with us now. Come with us, 
Dana. Show Walter you..." 
"I said *maybe* I should have been there." 
"Semantics, Dana." 
"Oh shut up. And I can just see me out on the dance floor with 
Walter Skinner," she laughs. 
"Come on, I'll dance with both of you. You know how it is there, 
Scully. Everyone is squashed together so closely you're 
dancing with six other people anyway whether you want to or 
not." 
"Well you have a point there." 
"All right. So?" 
I hold my breath. Kiss or kill the idea time. 
"Let me call you back, Mulder." Click. 
Victory!! Now all I have to do is wait and hope she calls back 
before Walter comes home. I tab the mute button off the TV 
remote and continue to watch *Killer Clowns from Outer 
Space* on Showtime.  
Scully calls back before the balloon dog is chasing the heroes. 
"You are one lucky bucky, Mulder." 
I laugh. 
"Right after I hung up with you my mother got a call from her 
date for tonight." 
"You mean a man called your mom for a date?" 
"No - a woman. Of course, a guy. Well I guess you could refer 
to him as such." she sighs. 
"Well who was it?" I frown into the phone. 
"John Byers" 
I just manage to catch the phone before it hits the carpet.  
"This is a joke, right?" I'm laughing like hell into the cell. 
"I wish. Unfortunately, no." 
"Well, how did John Byers...I mean Byers and your mother? 
Holy *Revenge of the Nerds*, Catwoman." 
My God. John *I buy my suits at Sears* Byers? Not to mention 
the fact that the bearded LGM is just a tad younger than Mrs. 
Scully. Maybe the guy does have more balls then we're giving 
him credit for. Maggie Scully is nothing to sneeze at in the 
attractiveness department. In fact, she's gorgeous, a wonderful 
human being in a beautiful package. 
"Evidently, *Robin the Boy Wonder*, he met her at some gallery 
opening a couple of weeks ago. He just joined this arts group 
my mother belongs too. At any rate, I guess he's been pining for 
her and finally got up the guts to call her." 
"But I thought she wanted to go to the concert." 
"Yeah, well that's an X-File there too Mulder. He has tickets." 
I'm snorting snot so hard now I can hardly talk into the phone. 
"It's not funny, Mulder," she's trying hard not to laugh but failing 
miserably. 
"You should be thankful Frohike isn't into the arts scene, Scully. 
You really should be." 
"Mulder - get bent." 
"Come on, you know that was the first thing you thought."  
"All right, yeah. I'm thankful for small favors. Besides, Melvin 
likes them younger anyway." 
"And petite, and red headed." 
"Let's not go there, Mulder. If you do I won't be coming *there*, 
my sweet." 
"Ok, ok. So it's a date then?" 
"For everyone it would seem." 
"Can we pick you up at your place, let's say around 10 PM 
tonight?" 
"Yeah, I'll be there. But, Mulder, if this goes South - call me 
please. I don't want to be sitting in my apartment wondering 
what the hell happened to the two of you, OK?" 
"No problem beautiful. I'll call," 
"Good, I'll see you at ten." 
I hung up and headed up to shower, shave and dress at last. I 
wanted to look at least half way presentable when Walter made 
his second appearance of the day. 
xXx 
Tom Servo, Crow T. Robot and Mike Nelson had just taken 
their respective seats in the *Satellite of Love's* movie theater 
on MST3K when I heard Walter's key in the lock. I put the TV 
remote on mute and stood up to face the door. 
He walked in silently and hung his coat up in the closet. When 
he turned towards me his face was unreadable. I know mine 
wasn't. I was beyond trying to cover up my anguish. 
"Sit down, this isn't a dress parade," he sighed coming down 
towards me, his cell phone in his hand. I sat back down on the 
couch like someone playing musical chairs and the last chair 
was right under my ass. 
He came into the sunken living area and, tossing his cell phone 
down on the couch, glanced at the TV, "What is it today?" he 
asked gesturing towards Crow's head bobbing on the screen. 
"The Giant Spider Invasion," I answer quietly. 
"Hmph, that reeks." 
"Walter, this reeks can you talk to me, for God's sake?"  
He turns and my answer is on his face. Oh thank you God, I am 
delivered. I stand and he's in my arms before I can blink twice. 
"I'm so sorry," I breath against his face as he rubs his stubble 
harsh jaw against my freshly shaved one. 
"I'm sorry too, Mulder. I'm sorry I overreacted and I'm sorry I 
scared the shit out of you too. But I did have to get away and 
think. The Corvette's always been my escape valve, man. That 
bitch is better than bourbon." he chuckles against me. 
"This bitch is better than bourbon too," I whisper into his ear. 
"You'll never be my bitch, Mulder. Don't even get the idea in 
your head. I don't want a woman. If I did I'd be balling Jana 
Cassidy right now. You're my fucking equal in this relationship. I 
know we can't be that way in the damn office but outside of it - 
don't buck me on this, all right?" 
"No top, sub - any of that master-slave *thang*?" 
"No fucking way. I'm the God damned Dom every day of the 
work week in the Hoover building. I'd like to get butt fucked by 
the lover of my choice in bed, capeash?" he grins into my 
eyes. 
"Yes dear." 
He shakes his head, grinning wider. I kiss him on the nose.  
"Mulder, I'm trying to make a point here." 
"Sorry, go on." 
"Look, Mulder. You and Scully, uh...it doesn't matter. 
She...Christ she's a fantastic woman. I know you two are a 
phenomenal team and...well if you're in love with her I never 
knew it until you told me. I mean I could tell you were devoted 
to each other - but I thought that was the partner gestalt working 
there. I had no idea you were lovers. I guess that is a testament 
to your feelings for me, Mulder. I...I can't deny I know you care. 
I feel like I'm the center of your whole world when I'm with 
you." 
"I love you, Walter. You are the center of my whole world. So is 
Scully. I...I can't go it alone Walter. I can't go on without either of 
you. I'm not whole without you both." 
He kisses me then and there are no more words. No more are 
necessary. He pulls back and ruffles my hair with one of his 
large hands. 
"Hey, I stink. I'm going to take a shower." He released me and 
stepped away. 
I breath deeply, his smell is masculine, heady. Stink? Uh, I don't 
think so. Relief at having him back with me floods through my 
blood until my entire body sings. 
"OK. I...I'm gonna watch the spiders," I reply, dazed. I nod 
towards the silent TV. 
He smiles wide, "All right. Then we should decide about dinner I 
guess." 
"I'll give it some thought," I nod as he walks off. 
xXx 
"The Safehouse? I've never heard of it." Walter says around a 
slice of sausage and mushroom pizza. 
I opted for Mulder soul food while Walter was in the shower. I 
yelled the suggestion through the door while he was singing 
*Wild Thing* by Jimi Hendrix, in the shower. 
"Pizza? Yeah, I wouldn't turn it down," he called back. 
When he came out of his bedroom dressed in fresh jeans and a 
black t-shirt the pizza had just been delivered to the apartment. 
So now we were chomping happily and I had thrown out my 
idea for the evenings entertainment. 
"I thought you went to the bars once in a while, Walter. Down in 
Baton Rouge you..." 
"I do, Mulder. Once in a *great* while. I usually go to Club 219." 
"Oh. Well Club 219 is fine." 
Club 219 is for older gay men. Been in business for years. It's 
almost a gentleman's club. A place to go and drink, swap war 
stories. Have dinner with a friend. Sedate. Actually it isn't bad. I 
went there with Reggie once. They have a great prime rib. 
"But boring, right?" 
"No. Just quiet. It can be great if you want to talk with that 
special someone. They have a great prime rib." 
"I take it you've been there before," he raises an eyebrow.  
"Walter I won't lie to you. You're not my first male lover. But I 
won't compare you and I won't discuss the others. I hope you 
won't buck *my* wishes on that." I replied taking up another 
slice of pizza. 
He shrugs, "Yeah. I can live with it. It's water under the bridge. 
But, Mulder. I was serious about not getting close to anyone. I 
really was a virgin in Baton Rouge." 
"It was sweet Walter." 
"Sweet isn't exactly the way I would have termed it but...well, 
whatever. At any rate, I used to go to the club to talk to the other 
Nam vets. We got to be buddies. Most of them were with 
someone all ready. I just had to go somewhere once in a while 
where I could - you know - just be myself and talk over old 
times. One of my buddies told me about that joint in Baton 
Rouge. It was... it was a little overwhelming." 
Christ. And in all these years he never hooked up with anyone? 
And no one snapped him up for that matter - even for a one 
night stand? But oh yes - he had mentioned the fact that he'd 
lusted after me from practically the first day I'd walked into his 
office didn't he? Jesus. He'd been holding out for me just on the 
off chance that...God All mighty. I didn't even want to think 
about the implications of that idea and what it could do to my 
ego. 
"I know, Walter. I...we go out to The Safehouse when we need 
to work off some steam. Dance, you know. Scully and I stay 
out on the dance floor until we're so exhausted we want to drop. 
Dervishes use the same principle to work themselves into a 
transcendental state. I guess I'm emulating them. Hell, I don't 
know. Mostly I dance so I can forget...things...for a while." 
He nods in understanding, looking down at the table. He shakes 
himself a little and looks back up with more relaxation in his 
stance. 
"Do you want that last piece?" he smiles towards the pizza box. 
I shake my head and continue to chew. "No, you can have it. I 
invited Scully to come with us tonight." 
He nearly chokes on that last piece. Half of it falls back out on 
the table and I'm at his side. 
"Shit, can you breath? I don't want to have to do the Heimlich 
Maneuver, Walter. Are you all right?" 
He's shaking his head and waving me off so I go back and sit 
down. 
"Just blurt it the fuck out, Mulder. Do you want to kill me or 
what?" he coughs out, sputtering angrily. 
"Sorry, it just popped out I guess." 
"I'd like to pop you. God!" 
He finally finished gasping for breath and begins to wipe his 
face off with a napkin. Miraculously nothing got on his clothing. 
But the tabletop is covered with goop. 
"I gotta get a sponge..." he growls. 
"I'll get it. It's my mess - indirectly." 
"It's your direct mess, Mulder," he rumbles, "Go." 
I exit for the kitchen and come back with the wet sponge and 
some paper towels.Mopping it up takes a couple of minutes. 
Walter stands nearby sipping his Diet Coke, watching me with 
furrowed brow. Finally I'm done with the elbow grease. I take 
the sodden paper towels in hand and look up at him.
 "Does it meet with your approval?" 
"It'll do." 
I leave the table and retreat to the kitchen. When I return, 
Walter's gone. /Now what?/ I wonder. 
I can hear him somewhere. It dawns on me that he's in his 
bedroom. I can hear him opening drawers back there. 
I trundle up the short set of stairs that leads up to the bedroom 
level and go down the short hall. When I walk in on him he's 
standing in his closet. Well that's an image with an obvious 
connotation isn't it? Hell. But in this case, it's a pleasant vision. 
"Ok, Mulder what do you think about this jacket?" he asks 
holding up a gray blazer. 
"What?" 
"Does this look good. I mean if we're going out, I want to look 
good. Especially if I gotta worry about impressing the other 
woman," he chuckles putting the jacket back on it's hanger. 
"You bastard," I laugh, "I thought you weren't going to go. I really 
did." 
"I have to face up to this sometime, Mulder. I might as well face 
the music tonight rather then put it off. So, what does Scully 
like? I mean color wise. If we're both going to escort her we 
might as well look decent." 
"Maybe we should color coordinate." 
"Oh yeah, right. We can look like the fucking Bobsey Twins."  
"You're dating yourself, Mr. AD," I tease, rummaging through 
his clothes rack. 
"I'm dating you, asswipe. Now help me decide." 
"Jesus, Walter. I thought my clothes were expensive. You've 
got me beat all to hell." 
Walter is quite the clothes horse ladies. Not only is his stuff 
tailored to show off his physique but he only buys the basic best 
anyway. He could wear anything off this rack and not go wrong 
tonight. I felt like the poor cousin in comparison. Like the Pauper 
to his Prince. 
"So, Mr. Blackwell - How about some input here?" Walter prods, 
holding up another jacket. Black this time. 
"Dress light. You're going to sweat like a pig out on that dance 
floor." 
"Dance floor?" 
"Well yeah, you're gonna dance with me, aren't you?" 
His lips curls up in a little smile. 
"Do I need one of those hats with the tassel on top - you know - 
a fez?" 
"Fez's are mandatory for the follicley challenged didn't I tell 
you?" 
"Fuck you." 
"Keep promising, Walter. I do have an eidetic memory. 
"So, no whirling, but I'm gonna get hot anyway?" he asks 
glancing at me as he puts the second jacket back on the bar. 
"The fucking dance floor is so packed we'll be stuck together 
like glue." 
"In that case, yeah, I'll dance with you," he smirks wolfishly. 
Oh baby. This is going to be a glorious night. 
xXx 
We took the Corvette, top up, and headed for Scully's in plenty 
of time to stop by my apartment. I really needed a different 
change of clothing myself by that point. Something a little better 
than my ripped Levi's and *Fuck 'em Bucky* t-shirt. 
Walter stood just inside the door of my apartment like the 
friggin' building inspector until I invited him in. 
"Who do you think you are - Count Dracula, Walter? You don't 
need an invitation to enter here - come on in and sit while I 
change." 
Did I tell you what he ended up dressing in? Black. All in black. 
Even his tie. He looks like a fucking Mafia Don but the effect is 
rather breathtaking. I know Scully's gonna drool. She likes a 
man in black with glasses. I speak with authority - it's a fact 
Jack.  
"I didn't wanna scatter the roaches," he quips, wrinkling his 
nose. 
"You God damned queen! Get your ass on the couch. I'll be out 
in a minute," I shot back at him as I retreated to my bedroom. 
I pulled out black button fly skin tight Levi's, black t-shirt, black 
sports coat and black Doc Martens. Men in black. Gee, how 
appropriate. I just wonder what Madam Scully will wear. As an 
afterthought I strip and put on my black jock. I can't really wear 
anything else under these jeans anyway. 
A quick look in the full length mirror on the back of the door tells 
me I'm dressed to kill. Oh yeah. I don't opt for my specs though. 
We'll allow Walter some originality. Scully's going to be dragging 
her tongue as it is when we both show up at her door.  
At the last, I run a hand through my hair and smooth it back a 
little. There isn't much I can do with it. Mind of it's own. One of 
these days I should think about going back to that shorter do I 
had a few years ago. It was a hell of a lot easier to manage. I 
shrug and head back out to join my big boy date. 
Walter is standing, staring at my fish tank when I come back in 
the living room. 
"You have a floater here, Mulder," he advises me reaching into 
the top. 
"Christ, not again?" I reply. I should give up the damn fish. I'm 
the angel of death when it comes to them. 
He gingerly lifts the slimy corpse out of the confines of it's 
watery grave and drops it into my outstretched palm. 
"You should try a fungicide. It's got ick." he grimaces as I take 
the body into the can for another watery burial. 
"Ick?" I ask as I come back in. 
"Fish fungus. Sharon had tropical fish," he replies looking me up 
and down. 
"Oh. So?" I spread my hands out in that all encompassing how 
do I look big guy gesture. 
"Very nice. I guess we are color coordinated." 
"Black isn't a color, Walter." 
"But black eyes are - keep it up sweet pea." 
I chuckle and glance at my watch, "Shit. We'd better get going. 
Scully's gonna be wondering where we are if we're late." 
The drive to Georgetown is spent in silence. I'm too fascinated 
watching Walter drive the Corvette to talk much. Mr. Skinner is 
nervous so I know his conversation would be reduced to 
monosyllabic grunts anyway. 
God, he drives that stick like he cranks my dick. He really is 
into the Chevy. It's almost like he's some kind of H. R. Giger 
mechanoid creation - joined with the very steel of the machine 
as it speeds down the Beltway. Biomechanical. I lick my lips as 
he shifts gears and puts the pedal to the metal. We won't be late 
at this rate, Scully. No sir Dale Earnhart. 
We pull up in front of Scully's apartment with time to spare. 
Walter shuts off the ignition and sits behind the wheel, staring 
through the windshield. 
"Take a deep breath, Dad," I smile. 
"I'm counting to 10," he nods, "All right, let's go." 
Walter stands behind me like he thinks he'll be able to hide his 
man mountain bulk from the woman who will very shortly be 
opening her door. I ring the bell a second time and we're met 
with a shout from inside. 
"Hang on, I'm on the phone." 
Jesus I hope it isn't Maggie calling for help," I muse. In short 
order we can hear Scully's steps approaching on the other side. 
The dead bolt slides over and the door opens wide. 
"Hi," I smile wide, "Is everything all right?" 
"Just fine." 
Fine? Mighty fine. Oh my my my. I can hear Walter's hiss 
behind me. Yeah big dog tell me about not wanting a woman 
again. 
Scully is standing in the doorway, back lit but there is no 
mistaking what she's wearing. I really like her in strapless red 
too. Oh Lord do I ever. It's a hoot though. She's barefoot and 
barely coming up to my tits. An errant thought flits through my 
mind. Red and Black. King me. We look like checkers. 
"Come on in. Hello sir," she inclines her head towards Walter. I 
can just see the tiny smirk disappearing from her lips. 
"Uh...Hello," Walter squeaks. Oh brother. He sounds like 
Mickey Mouse on steroids. 
She steps back. I motion for Walter to step past me and he 
slides on by. Scully's eyes zero in on his ass like two blue 
beacons. I hang back a second and raise an eyebrow at her. 
Now that we're in the light I can see her pupils dilating. Oh 
FoxyLady. So are we really that nervous around The Boss? I 
don't think so. 
She grins and makes a thumbs up sign. I choke trying not to 
laugh. 
We both follow Walter into her living room. 
"Would you like a drink?" she asks us both. 
"I'm the designated driver, Scully. No. Walter?" 
"Sir?" she asks almost simultaneously. I can see Walter swivel 
his head back and forth between us trying to process data and 
make some sort of decision. His answer isn't quite what I 
expected but it's not inappropriate. 
"Call me Walter, all right. I can't...this sir shit just isn't going to 
work tonight." 
Scully laughs and a lot of ice is broken in that laughter.  
"All right, Walter. The bars open. Name your poison." 
"Bourbon?" 
"On the rocks?" 
"Straight up." 
"Can do. Why don't you guys sit down. I'll make the drinks."  
"I could use a Coke," I chuckle. 
"All ready there, Mulder," she replied back over her shoulder as 
she headed into the kitchen. 
Walter sagged onto the couch as soon as she was gone. I stood 
up, leaning against her fireplace, watching him. I'm amazed he 
isn't sweating bullets. His face looks like a constipated librarian's 
pickled kisser. 
"Walter, relax." 
"I'm dying." 
"You're doing fine. This is Scully, Walter. Remember? She likes 
you." 
"Oh yeah, right." 
"Well, she likes your ass." 
"You are not helping." 
"Just go with the flow, Big Man. You'll see. We'll be fine," I state 
with finality. I can tell just by the way Scully looks, her body 
language and the expression in her eyes that she's enjoying 
herself all ready. And oh yeah - she likes Walter's look tonight. 
But I can also tell that she's not going there. When she looked at 
me the air superheated between us. With Walter it was more 
like a little smoldering interest and that was all. 
I swallow hard as she sashes back into the room. The little red 
number she's wearing doesn't leave much to the imagination. 
She floats over and hands Walter his bourbon and me my 
Coke. 
"I'll be right back," she smiles up at me. When she returns she's 
holding a shot glass full of clear liquid. I know what it is - Dana 
Scully's slingshot of choice - Jose Cuervo, neat. 
"No salt and lemon?" I kid her, "oh, sorry. I mean lime." What 
that woman can do with a lime slice. God.
"Takes too long. Well, here's to extreme possibilities, gentleman. 
Cheers," she lifts up the shot glass. Walter sits there open 
mouthed like the fish he pulled out of my tank. I bark a laugh 
and raise my Coke. 
"To extreme possibilities." 
Scully and I are knocking back our respective beverages. 
Walter finally blinks and lifts the bourbon up to his lips. It's down 
the hatch without a single cough. 
He shuts his eyes for a moment. Scully is doing the same. 
Walter opens his and looks at her. Something passes over his 
face and I'm smiling wide. All right old man. The wheels are 
greased with top shelf hooch and I think Walt is maybe getting 
ready to rock and roll. 
"Thanks, Scully. This is prime," he nods, tipping the glass 
towards her. 
"Would you like another?" 
"Sure." 
"Ok," she smiles at him. Is that jacket by Calvin Klein?" she 
asks as she takes his glass. 
"Yeah." he nods grinning a little. 
"It looks nice on you." Oh boy Dana. Add a little more oil there. 
He's puffing up like jiffy pop now. 
"Thank you." 
She turns to me with a smirk, "You look very nice too...Fox. 
Would you like another Coke?" 
"No, I'm fine," And oh baby am I ever. Black Magic Woman 
you're earning points tonight. Scully delivers a really witchy grin 
and exits stage right. 
"Fox?" Walter raises an eyebrow. 
I shrug, "Some things have changed since Antarctica." 
"No shit," he rumbles a chuckle. 
After another bourbon for Walter and another tequila for Moi 
Scully, we're ready to hit the roadtrip. 
Scully went into her bedroom to get her shoes and a wrap for 
her shoulders. Walter stood up and when he fanned his jacket 
back I noticed he was wearing his Glock. Oh fuck. 
"Walter did you bring your piece?" I ask sputtering a bit. I had 
mine too, but I'm not drinking. Not the best mix - booze and 
bullets. I wish he'd left it behind. I also knew Scully wouldn't 
have her gun. Shit. I mean besides the tequila reason - where 
would she put it? She wouldn't be carrying a purse. She keeps 
her ID, key and some spare cash in her bra. We just didn't 
operate that way when we went clubbing. Always packing heat I 
mean. I'm usually her back up, literally, when we're at The 
Safehouse. I don't drink and a jacket covers a multitude of 
awkward items. But I was just a tad worried about what Walter 
might say. Mr. *By the Book* Skinner. 
Technically this is a big breach of the rules. A Federal Agent is a 
peace officer at all times. In other words we should never be 
unarmed. Theoretically. But...there were just some instances 
when I didn't think it was practical. Like when you're blasted on 
bourbon or wearing a skin tight sheath that barely allows for 
coverage of your cleavage much less Mr. Smith and Mr. 
Wesson. 
Walter's looking at me with a wry smile. 
"Count on it," he answers grabbing his crotch. Oh God All 
Mighty. Don't give my boy any more bourbon. 
"I don't mean your piece of meat Walter. I mean your weapon." 
"Come again," he asks, scratching. 
"Look, *Where's Waldo*. I mean your Glock." 
"Of course I'm packing. Didn't you bring your gun?" 
"Yes." 
"Then what's the problem?" 
Right on cue Scully reenters the fray. 
"Are you two ready?" 
Walter looks her over from the top of her red head to the tips of 
her red high heeled toes, doesn't say a word, and out the door 
we go. Well, Mr. Diplomacy rides tonight I guess. I breath a sigh 
of relief and take Walter's proffered car keys. 
xXx 
Walter's more than a little nervous about leaving the car on the 
street in front of The Safehouse. He's got it alarmed up the 
whazoo though. The only non-authentic touch in the '61 Vette. 
The bouncer at the door takes a 50 to keep an eye on it but 
Walter is more than happy to pay it. 
"Hi, Doug," I smile at the 300 lb. plus giant that guards the gate. 
Walter's hard earned cash is disappearing into his black leather 
pants. Doug is trying to break into the WWF. I thought Walter 
was big. This guy is like Mount Everest. 
"Mulder," he grunts, grinning slightly, "Scully," he bows a bit 
from the waist. Scully does a little curtsy. It would have been 
even more cute if she hadn't left her wrap in the back seat. 
"How's Greg doing?" Scully asks with concern. 
"Oh, the arms healing. I told him not to go for that clothesline. 
He should learn sometime." 
Scully nods, "Good. Tell him I said hello." 
It doesn't always pay when your lover trains with you. 
Especially when the wrestling moves don't work out. 
Doug takes in Walter last. 
"Is this Don Corleone, Mulder?" he smirks. There is a definite 
glint in his eye too. Doug must like Italian. 
Walter scowls his best surly man scowl, "Yeah, Hulk Hogan. 
Keep it up, baby, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes." 
Doug blasts a braying laugh and slaps Walter on the back. 
When Walter doesn't flinch or move an inch Doug nods his 
approval.  
"Step right up my man. You're going to fit right in. Have a good 
time you all. I'll see you on the flip flop." There's really no need 
at all to worry about the car now. Doug the Doberman will be 
watchdoggin' it for sure. 
Doug is still laughing as he pulls the door open and we're in The 
Safehouse at last. 
xXx 
The sound isn't too bad immediately inside the door. Even so all 
three of us can hear the thud, thud, thud, of the bass back beat 
behind the heavily insulated door at the back of the short 
entryway. This area is where the first set of restrooms, coat 
check and door leading to a quiet side bar are located. You can 
still talk out here. For the moment the vestibule is empty. I 
motion for Scully and Walter to step to the side. 
"Look, we won't be able to hear each other much once we're 
inside, Walter. So if you need to talk to either one of us, get 
close and shout into our ear." 
"Got it." 
There's a second long bar over to the right once we're inside. 
That's where we're headed. If you get separated just get your 
butt over there. It's a crush, packed to the rafters ." 
Scully nods with a frown. This is the only part she hates. She's 
short. No bones about it. I have to guide her through the mass 
of humanity inside and she always feels helpless when she's 
buffeted by the herd. She's still Ms. Independent in so many 
ways. This is one instance where I still see it. But if I don't act 
like a human battering ram she might get stuck like a tugboat on 
a sandbar and I don't think she'd be happy about that either. 
But tonight she's got two battering rams. Walter takes in the 
situation immediately and gruff man of action that he is, bulls his 
way through the door and parts the waters with nary an effort at 
all. He's into the roiling mass of humankind, temporarily ignoring 
the flash of arc lights and blast of music, as he sets his sights on 
the object of our destination. 
One look from Walter and boys scatter left and right to get out 
of his way. The poor guys probably think it's a raid with the way 
he's acting. He couldn't do any better at scaring them shitless if 
he waived his ID and his gun around.
The noise is deafening inside so I can't hear what he's saying. 
All I know is that we're at the side bar, drinks in hand in no time 
flat. The cold Diet Coke refreshes all right. 
But once we're at the bar, some of the wind goes out of Walter's 
sails. He's pressed up against the wood, ogling the crowd, din 
and strobing spots, doing his Clydesdale stallion that needs to be 
gentled thing again. He's just not used to yards and yards of 
prime meat on the hoof I guess. Or high decibel dynamite for 
that matter. I mean his nostrils are flaring. The DJ starts to spin 
out *Hey Man, Nice Shot* by Filter and Walter practically sinks 
through the floor. Well, it isn't exactly his choice in easy listening 
music. 
Scully taps my arm and I lean down close over her. She puts 
her mouth to my ear. Scully really doesn't have to yell. Those 
warm, moist, bee stung lips make her voice carry volumes. 
"He doesn't look good." 
She proffers her ear to my lips and I hiss back, "An 
understatement. I'd better see if he wants to go to the can or 
something. He looks like he has to unload." 
Scully laughs and waves her hand away. I step over to Walter 
and pull his head over to my mouth, "Do you want to go to the 
can? I need to take a piss." He nods vehemently in the 
affirmative. I point towards the left end of the bar. The men's 
john is down at that end. He turns and pushes off through the 
crowd. 
Walter stalks up to the first urinal he can get in front of and 
unzips. He had to piss a bucket after all. Jesus. If I hadn't shown 
him the can what would he have done, piss his skivvies? 
Something's up. I sidle up to the urinal next to him and whip it 
out. We're both standing there sighing. 
"So, are you going to survive?" I ask carefully. 
"I should have brought a fucking pair of ear plugs," he 
grimaces. 
"We can leave if..." 
"No. Can that idea. I'll be fine. Just give me a chance to 
acclimate. It's just loud." 
He shakes off and zips up. I follow and we head over to the 
sinks to wash our hands. 
"But you hate the music, right?" 
"Did I say that? No. The music's fine. Look, Mulder. 
Sometimes...sometimes I have trouble with loud sounds. Noise. 
It...it goes back to the war. Just give me a few minutes. I'll get 
used to it. I'm almost fine all ready. It's...everything's fine." 
Oh God. I didn't even consider this possibility. Fuck. How could 
I have been so thoughtless. So heedless. No wonder he was 
overwhelmed in that other bar in Baton Rouge. I dry my hands 
off and stand close so that when he turns to get his paper towel 
we're standing toe to toe. I stare into his glasses. There is an 
unfathomable pain in his eyes. Something old and dark and 
better left dead. I can see his mind fighting to banish it away. I 
lean forward and kiss him gently on the lips. 
He sighs and brushes my lips back. I can taste the bourbon.  
"I'm sorry, lover. Take as long as you need," I whisper. He pins 
my eyes and I see that he knows I understand. He gives me a 
grateful little smile and then the moment passes as a noisy 
group of patrons comes into the john, laughing and talking. 
Walter dries his hands. 
"Ready?" I ask 
"Yeah. You promised me a dance didn't you babe?" he asked 
grinning wider. 
"Yes, sir." I laugh as we exit the can. 
Scully is still by the side bar talking to the bartender, a gorgeous 
transvestite by the name of Emily Dickinson. Just as we reach 
Scully's side the DJ changes gears and starts cranking up 
*Sharp Dressed Man* by ZZ Top. Scully takes us both in and 
bursts out laughing. Walter straightens up and runs a hand from 
his mouth up over his scalp and extends the same hand out to 
Scully. My mouth drops open when she takes his hand and 
heads out to the dance floor. Can you say knock me over with 
a feather? Yeah, I knew you could. Holy fandango. 
So - I should cut in maybe? I don't think so. No ma'am. This 
way I can watch both objects of my affections strut their stuff 
and drool a bucket on the bar. It is quite a sight too. I told you 
Scully could dance. Well, surprise, Fred Astaire! Papa bear can 
do more than lumber. Holy shit. He must have taken lessons 
somewhere along the line. This isn't just plain bump and grind. 
It's actual dancing. I mean like the kind you see at a 50s sock 
hop. And Scully's light enough that he can pick her up and really 
throw her around too. It's fucking incredible. It must be the 
bourbon. He's as loose as a goose. My Boogie Woogie Bugle 
Boy. God damn. *Sharp Dressed Man* ends and *Tush* cranks 
out next and they're still out there. But as soon as that number 
ends they're back breathless at the bar. Scully is actually 
fanning her tits. Walter looks warm but he's not sweating too 
badly. I just shake my head. So much for Scully's *I can just 
see myself dancing with Walter Skinner* comment. 
I raise an eyebrow at her and she blurts out, "Don't even say it." 
I'm laughing. Walter's ordering Evian from Emily and he nods 
towards us. We nod back. It's time to tank up again. And no 
alcohol. It dehydrates. Three Evians appear on the bar in front 
of us and Walter pays for them all. We slam back the water. 
There's a sudden shift in the crowd. A sound of anticipation. I 
smile. Oh yeah. Here it comes. Halloween is only a week away 
after all. I glance at my watch. Midnight. Yup. Zombie Time. 
The DJ speaks. It will be one of the few times he does during 
the evening.
"It's Midnight Boys. The Witchin' or should I say, Bitchin' Hour. 
Grab your partner's, ladies. It's Zombie Time." 
Scully's laughing at the expression on Walter's face. This is a 
club tradition. The weekend before Halloween at midnight the 
DJ spins back to back White Zombie tracks. So for about an 
hour Rob Zombie growls out his unique blend of Universal or 
Hammer Horror movie samples and post apocalyptic high 
decibel mayhem. I love it and so does Scully. But I think Walter 
is going to have to acclimate big time to Robert, I'm afraid. He is 
an acquired taste. As soon as the first song cues up I know he's 
going to shit a brick. It's *Electric Head* from *Astro-Creep: 
2000*. Well fuck. I love this album. There's nothing I can do 
about it. If Walter wants to spend the rest of the night in the can 
he'll just have to do it. 
He's all ready sitting on a bar stool luckily as the tune blasts our 
eardrums. I bend over close and shout into his ear. 
"Want that dance now, Boss man?" I smile. Like he will? Fat 
chance. 
"Uh, let me sit this one out," he shakes his head. See. Christ. 
"All right, but you owe me." 
"Next one, I swear," he nods trying gamely to smile. 
Maybe it's the lyrics *Super Charger Heaven* is up next and 
Mr. Zombie is singing: 
Jesus lived his life in a cheap hotel 
on the edge of Route 66. Yeah. 
OK, so like I said - an acquired taste. I pat Walter on the knee 
and grab the hand of my other dance partner. The one who is 
practically vibrating to get out on the dance floor. Oh man 
baby. 
Scully and I push our way out into the crowd. We start to move 
together and it's just like getting back on the horse. You never 
forget the ride. She's like a cat, my Scully. She rubs me just the 
right way. Up, down. Up, down. And she can arch up that back 
to be petted too. Oh Woman! It's sublime. I know I'll get hard 
and I don't even care. I ratchet up the sensations by grinding my 
hips against her ass anyway. It's part of that transcendental 
state I crave. Tantric transcendentalism. Sex magic. And I 
know Walter is watching. I glance to make sure. Oh yeah, he's 
with us all right. His mouth is open slightly and I can see those 
nostrils flaring again. But this time the horse doesn't need to be 
gentled. He needs to stand at stud. 
Scully rocks back against me and I grab her hips and turn her 
around. We dip and grind over each other in shameless lust. It's 
been a while. Her eyes drift shut and I know she's really letting 
go. I hold her tight and just watch her move. Like I said, I can't 
keep up sometimes. The song changes. *Real Solution #9* 
spins up. This is even better. Oh Shit. I flip her back around and 
we're crotch to butt cheek again as The Zombie man reverbs 
the lyrics: 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
Apocalyptic dreams, see the ordinary madness 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
I never lock the dogs when the wolf is in the darkness. 
I'm writhing. writhing and sweating against Scully. Eyes shut, 
mouth open and gasping. Suddenly I feel a hot presence at my 
back. Two large hands grasp my hips. A mouth on my neck. 
Pressing. Licking, Sucking. Hot, wet breath plays against my 
ear. For a moment his words are all that I hear. 
"Work it," he commands. And I do for all I'm worth. Oh God in 
heaven. I'm sandwiched between two molten streams of lava 
and I'm boiling away to vapor between them. 
Walter pumps against my ass. His hard cock rocking right up 
the middle. Scully rocks back against my hard on until I know if 
she keeps it up I'll burst. We move up and down, grinding, 
groaning, swimming in our own juices. The music rolls over me 
as well. The bass rocks my bones. My boner's rockin'. I'm 
throbbing, throbbing, moaning in time to the music. Oh Jesus. 
I'm on fire. I'm on fire I'm...I wanna incinerate. The DJ in some 
perverse moment has spun the extended version of this song. 
I'm barely hanging on for the next chorus. 
I'm all ready dead 
I'm all ready dead 
I'm all ready dead 
Come on the motherfucker's on fire 
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire 
Come on the motherfucker's on fire 
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire 
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 
All of us are screaming out the last line. The entire crowd. I can 
hear Walter yelling against my neck. It's hard to resist a group 
mind fuck like this one.
I can't. I'm howling with the rest of the pack. 
Walter's egging me on. I can hear him behind me breathing 
hard. He sounds like a old-fashioned coal powered locomotive, 
"Do it. Do it. Do it." he keeps repeating like some kind of mantra 
with every slap of his cock. He can really grind those hips let 
me tell you. His hands are playing up and down my body in time 
with the music. Oh shit I remember that remark about keeping it 
up all night. Oh God. I'm headed for queer heaven again. 
And having Scully working over the front of my body is going to 
send me into orbit. She's raised her arms up and I'm running my 
hands down over them and then down onto her tits, onto her 
hips, down onto her stomach. I can smell her. Soap, shampoo, 
her spicy delicate perfume. Her hot pussy. Cat Woman from 
the fucking moon. She's sliding her ass over my cock so 
smoothly it feels like raw silk. I wanna give her some of this up 
front. Oh Lord. I move my hands back up her arms and turn her 
around. I know she knows Walter's behind me. His hands are so 
large they've brushed her more than once as she twisted 
against me. But when she gets a look at him over my shoulder 
her eyes go wide. 
Oh brother what must he look like? She pins my eyes. 
Unspoken thoughts traverse the distance. Scully and I are 
almost psychic this way. We read each other so well. Her look 
tells me that she feels like a third wheel. She feels it but she 
doesn't mind. Whatever she sees in Walter's face has 
overwhelmed her a bit and she needs to regroup. She looks 
beautiful as all that crosses her face, flows out and enters my 
mind. She's so flushed, so aroused, so exquisite. I hate for her 
to leave my arms. But I know she will. I grasp her hand and 
squeeze. She squeezes back but shakes her head. Times up. 
She lets go and moves back through the crowd, floating off 
towards the side bar. This time, this once, the crowd parts for 
her in acknowledgment that a Goddess had come to earth and 
walks in their midst. 
I watch her leave and I become blindingly aware of the hard, 
hot mass of muscle at my back. I turn in his hands, and get the 
total picture of what Scully had seen. 
I'm seeing someone but it's someone or something I hardly 
recognize. There's a God here again tonight. But he's not 
Greek. I think this one is Celtic. Pagan. Druidic? If I was to 
dream I was on the Wild Hunt I know this is what Hern, the 
antlered Hunter would look like. Hern, the master of the hounds. 
Riding, riding the stag to ground. Riding me down to my death 
from ecstasy. I can hardly look in his face. His eyes are closed 
and he's lost on the hunt. And the hounds are baying. 
I notice dimly that the crowd has left a small space around us. I 
mean Christ one look at Walter, at his...at this orgasmic 
intensity. God. I'd give him a bit of a berth. No one wants to 
stand near this much heat for long. They'll fucking fry. Except 
me. I can't get enough of it. I'm the moth to his flame. I want to 
cook. 
I slam my hips forward, grinding against his cock and when he 
realizes finally that we're face to face and sans Scully, his eyes 
fly open behind his steamed up specs. I can see them through 
the fog. They're like two white hot coals. 
Rob Zombie screams but I hardly hear the words. 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
Into the world number nine bring the death in 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
Loser take it all getting high on the kick in 
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 
We're sliding against each other, groin to groin, over, and over, 
and over. Neither one of us will let the other's eyes go. His smile 
goes wider and wider. It's a rictus of pleasure. Hunger. Just like 
the big bad wolf. Such big teeth. The better to eat you up with 
my little red Fox. I know he can move fast for a big man. He's 
flowing fast over me, powerfully, urgently. It's driving me out of 
what little mind I have left. His frenzied abandon is almost more 
than I can comprehend. I give a shit. I'm one big open nerve 
and I want to feel it all. As the sound and fury builds up, and up, 
and up, I know something's got to give. The crowd itself tenses 
along with us both. It feels like a big wave coming. Heading for 
shore. Roaring. Is that a roaring? 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
Got 24 hours of psychoholic magic 
Who will survive and what will be left of them? 
Illuminate the face and the eye of the serpent 
Come on. Come on the motherfucker's on fire 
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire 
Come on. Come on the motherfucker's on fire 
He cut through the bone he cut through the wire 
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. 
I'm already dead. 
I'm already dead 
I'm already... 
The little death spreads it's cloak. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck 
him. Oh please. Please. The entire crowd seems to explode in 
climatic delirium, crushing in around us. The thundering roar is 
incredible, ear drum shattering. Walter's head snaps back, his 
neck muscles cording until I can't understand how his sinews 
aren't rupturing. He's shouting to heaven with all the rest of the 
supplicants around us. Come on. Come on. Come. OH GOD! 
He's holding me tight and I can feel him shooting even through 
the layers of cloth that separate us. I hang on for dear life 
because I'm about to follow him. My head slams down into his 
shoulder and I'm practically biting through his jacket. I can feel 
the warm stickiness flowing down my leg. We both cling to each 
other, gasping. I can just hear Walter's exhaled breathy words in 
my ear. 
"Fuckin' A." 
xXx 
"You know Mulder I haven't done something like this since I was 
maybe fourteen." 
"Precocious weren't we?" I ask from the stall next to Walter. I'm 
giggling a little and I just can't help it. Somehow the picture of 
Walter Sergei Skinner, hard- assed Assistant Director of the FBI 
giving himself a paper towel sponge bath in the stall of a gay bar 
is just too much not to giggle over. 
"Put a cork in it, Mulder. This isn't a high point of my life here." 
"I should have put a cork in it," I chortle as I swab my thigh off. 
"Now you think of it." 
I still can't believe Scully begged a piece of Cardboard and a 
Sharpie off the Bartender. Her emphatically printed sign with 
the words "Temporarily Out of Order" on it is hanging on the 
front of the men's room door. She borrowed the Duct tape too. 
Walter got rid of the only other two guys that were in here by 
just smiling. Well it wasn't a friendly smile. The Big Bad Wolf 
Huffs and Puffs. Oh yeah. Then Scully slapped the sign up. So 
we had some peace and relative quiet while we made our 
ablutions. 
Lord. It's lucky Scully's a liberated woman. She's leaning 
against the wall outside just in case some unlucky fucker can't 
read Sharpie. 
I had to take off my black jock. It's a lost cause. I tossed it over 
the top of the stall and hit the trash can for a three pointer. 
"Boxer's have their advantages, Mulder," Walter chuckles.  
"Rub it in little big man," I grouch. Yeah, he shot his wad down 
the leg of those Fruit of the Loom pantaloons he wore tonight. 
/What happened to the BVDs?/ I thought. Well I did tell him to 
dress light didn't I? Christ. 
"I might. I heard semen is good for your skin." 
"Maybe you should tell Jana Cassidy that the next time you see 
her." 
"Oh fuck, right," he's laughing like hell now and so am I. There's 
a resounding pound on the door. Scully's voice comes through 
the wood and the metal. 
"If you're laughing I'd like to be on the joke. Hurry up will you. 
I'm having to fight them off out here." I hope she means guys 
wanting to use the can. But I doubt it. I bet Thelma and Louise 
are out there snapping her spaghetti straps. 
"Walter we'd better get back out there. We're turning into really 
shitty dates here." 
He frowns over at me, "I think we'd better take her home, 
Mulder. She's been more than patient with all this crap." 
"Walter, it's ok, really. She's used to a hell of a lot more weird 
shit from me than this, believe me." 
He does grin a little, "Yeah. I guess I can believe it. But look - 
Have some mercy on this old man and get me home to bed. 
Ok?"  
"All right, Walter. Let's go home." I replied running my hand 
along his hand where it gripped the stall wall. 
"Thanks, babe," he sighed as he turned and pulled his pants up. 
xXx 
So, once again we're at Scully's apartment. She drove to her 
place. The little speed demon really wanted to drive that 
Corvette. Walter agreed without hesitation. He looked beat. We 
sat snuggled in the back seat. I felt a little like I was being 
chauffeured or like I was at a drive in movie or something. Or 
maybe it was that post coital cuddling I covet. Whatever. I 
couldn't help myself. I started necking with Walter. He wasn't 
too enthusiastic - at first. But it grew on him. His glasses were 
steaming up again before we reached the Georgetown exit. 
I caught Scully sneaking a peak at us in the rear view mirror. 
We weren't lip locked, thank God. I moved away from Walter a 
little. I didn't want her to wrap The AD's ride around a light pole. I 
thought I caught her smiling before she looked away though. 
Scully cut the ignition and parked the car directly in front of the 
buildings entrance. We left Walter dozing in the back seat and 
walked hand and hand to her front door. 
"Are you ok with this Dana?" I asked as we stood under the light 
outside her apartment door. She stood very close and I stroked 
her cheek. 
She pulled her wrap a little closer around her shoulders, "Yeah. I 
think so." 
"Sure?" 
"I'm sure." 
"Good." 
I continue to stare at her for a few seconds as we breath in 
unison. 
Mulder?" 
"What?" 
"I love you. I want you to be happy. Walter's a good man. You 
couldn't have done better." 
"Oh God. I love you so much," I whisper, passion choking my 
voice off. 
I pull her close and bend down to capture her mouth. She tastes 
so sweet. Like ambrosia. A fine red wine. Her lips part and our 
tongues dance together. She's melting against me. Nothing 
beats this feeling of soft femininity mixed with steel. She's the 
only woman for me and every time I'm with her like this, that 
fact is driven into my heart deeper still. I pull back somewhat 
breathless. She looks fearlessly up into my eyes. 
"Now, take him home, Mulder. He needs his beauty rest big 
time." 
I squeeze her tight again. 
"Ok, lady mine. Listen, I'll see you on Monday. I'm staying over 
at Walter's place again tomorrow night so I'll be driving in from 
Crystal City." 
"All right. Are we still leaving for Fresno on Tuesday?"  
"Yes. We can go over the file again Monday. Quite frankly I 
think it's a hoax but..." I shrug. She knows we have to check it 
out. The truth is still out there. 
"All right, Mulder. Make sure you get some rest tomorrow, 
though. Hoax or not, I need you fresh on Monday." 
"Who's the senior Agent here?" I tease. 
"Who's turn is it to do the expense report this time?" 
I'm smiling and rolling my eyes, "Oh yeah. Point taken. I'll get 
my beauty rest too." 
"That's my boy," she grins giving my cheek a little pinch.  
When she takes her hand away I touch the spot. It tingles. She's 
turning to unlock her door so I step back a little to give her some 
room. 
"Dana?" 
"Yes, Fox?" she replies pulling her door open. 
"Thanks." 
"Don't mention it. Drive safely. I'll see you later." 
She shuts the door quietly as I walk away. 
xXx 
Come on, Walter we're home." I'm shaking him by his shoulder 
as he snores in the back seat. I let him sleep back there all the 
way to Crystal City. I had to rifle his pockets for the key card to 
the secured garage, though. He's really out of it. 
"Huh?" he grunts as I shake him again. 
"Wake up *Sleeping Beauty and the Beast*. We're home." 
"Hell. Did I sleep the whole way. Where's Scully?" 
"At her apartment Walter." 
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I do sort of remember stopping there."  
"Right. Can you walk up under your own power?" 
"Always." 
I stand close though just in case he does get wobbly. But he's 
navigating just fine now that he's upright. 
We make the elevator and I hit the up arrow button. We stand 
there in companionable silence until it arrives. The trip up is 
spent staring at the four walls. 
The apartment is dark but nowhere near as cold and empty 
because my undercover man is there with me. 
"Walter, I want to take a shower." 
"Yeah. Mind if I join you?" 
"Uh..." 
"No hands, I promise. I'm beat. Showering together will just 
save time." 
I see his point. We head for the bathroom. Walter finishes 
scrubbing up before I do. Less hair. He leaves me alone to let 
the hot spray soothe my dance sore muscles. I get out, towel 
dry, and pull on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt. 
When I go back out to the sunken living room he's standing in 
his bathrobe by his CD cabinet glancing through the small stack 
of disks I brought with me. 
"Stabbing Westward. Are these guys any good?" 
"Would you like to hear the CD?" 
"Sure." 
I smile into his eyes. I'm not sure I believe in God, but I do 
believe in providence. I believe in serendipity too. This is a case 
in point. I walk over to Walter and take the CD from his hands. It 
slips easily into the Sony. I turn on the unit with the remote and 
hit the track forward button until I reach Track 5. I toss the 
remote onto the couch. The volume isn't too loud. But it's loud 
enough. 
I turn to Walter. 
"May I have this dance?" I ask. His eyes crinkle with pleasure 
as he moves in against me. We wrap our arms around each 
other. He puts his head on my shoulder. The strains of *You 
Complete Me* fill the apartment and we begin to sway together. 
I place my lips near his ear and quietly sing the lyrics to my 
lover, the other love of my life. 
I am lost in the darkness 
between two worlds and here 
I'm struggling 
You're the light, I've been seeking 
'cause my whole life, there's been something missing 
Only you 
Can make me whole 
Just one touch 
You complete me 
I can feel his heart. It's pounding in his chest. I hug him tighter 
and continue to sing along. 
Rescue me from this black hole 
That's sucked me in and left me dying 
You're the truth that I've been seeking 
'cause my whole life I've been lying... 
Only you 
Can make me whole 
Just one touch 
You complete me 
My shoulder's wet now. He's crying into my t-shirt. I feel the 
tears begin to run down my face as well, but I try to press on to 
the end. 
God I pray you find me worthy 
of the right to stand beside you 
And of your truth and of your passion 
And of the right to sleep beside you... 
The chorus repeats twice and despite my good intentions I 
really can't go on because tears are washing down the back of 
my throat. Walter is way beyond words. He's reduced to 
incoherent sobs. Somehow he manages to raise his head and 
find my mouth. My whole being, my entire world, focuses down 
to that one moment as he kisses me.  
I am complete. Whole at last. I pull back. 
"Let's go to bed, Walter." 
He nods, and we do. 
xXx 
Author's Note: Well I think I feel a third installment coming on if 
you all want it. I mean Halloween is a week away in this story 
and we still need to find out what the heck Walter is going to do 
about Jana Cassidy don't we? So, what do you think? Should I 
go for the gusto? Let me know and we'll give it serious 
consideration.  
Bests, 
frogdoggie 
frogdoggie@hotmail.com
Disclaimer the second:
All references to White Zombie including the lyrics to their songs 
from the Astro-Creep: 2000 CD - copyright 1995 by Rob 
Zombie and WB Music Corp/Psycho-Head Music ASCAP. All 
rights reserved. No copyright infringement is meant here. 
The lyrics for the song "You Complete Me" from the CD 
"Darkest Days", by Stabbing Westward copyright 1998 by Sony 
Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved. No copyright 
infringement is meant there either. 
And last but not least - apologies to Perry Farrell and Jane's 
Addiction too for that snippet from "Whore". 
-THE END FOR NOW?-