OK, this is new for me
This is a WIP. It's something my Auntie Ursula asked for, so here it is. She was the idea for the story, and she wanted it as WIP. I want constructive feedback. I want honest opinons. Gushing and cash awards are also welcome. Oh, and there's no way I'd be able to complete NaNoWriMo. I mean, yeah, I type 50 WPM, that's about 3000 WPH, but....you know...I can do this!
So, love me!!
Title: A Little Techno-babble is Good for the Soul
Author: Amazon X
E-mail: yankeestarbuck@yahoo.com
Website: http://yankeestarbuck.com
Feedback: Why, yes, thank you!
Category: X-Files, slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alex has fallen helplessly in love, and can't do as he wants.
Archive: Make Believe. All else, ask, I usually share.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, I have no money.
Notes: Ask Ursula...undetaed, so fuck-ups are included.
*-*-*-*
"We have a specialist in from Baltimore. He's new, green, but he's the best the academy has seen in the last five years with electronics." Walter Skinner didn't look at his prize pains in the ass as he spoke to them, Mulder and Scully. They'd just come off medical leave from their last case, a computer that had gone AI and was killing people in the building. Scully needed the leave, Mulder was told to stay on leave for three days. It gave Skinner time to work with the forensic computer analyst to figure out why the computer went back online. The kid had the computer isolated and was working with it, to see what went wrong.
There was a knock at the door and Walter looked up from the case file to call the person in.
Both Scully and Mulder were amazed at the youth of the agent who walked in, piles of tell-tale green and white striped computer paper wrapped in his arms. He'd forgone his jacket and his cheap-looking tie was askew. Right away, Scully took to him, likening him to her younger brother, Charlie.
Mulder was another story. This one was ripe, and ready to be the new kid, the one getting the grief. He'd been Spooky Mulder for too long. Time for a green kid to take over as whipping boy.
Alex stumbled into the room, looking over the steno book full of hastily scrawled notes. He'd been fascinated by the computer processor from the Eurisco building. He was able to recover some of the programming for the Central Operating System, but there were still holes he was working on filling. He'd lost track of time and ended up working on the processor all night long.
"Agents Mulder and Scully, this is Special Agent Alex Krycek. He's fresh from the academy, still full of positive attitude. Mulder, please don't jade him yet."
"Don't worry, sir, I'll just piss him off a little." Mulder's cheeky smile almost brought a snicker from Scully.
"I...I'm so sorry I'm late...I...was just so fascinated by this processor. It's just...so..." Alex reached for a particular page and his entire stack of printouts hit the floor in a great flourish.
"Why don't we take this to the conference table?" Walter recommended, standing beside Alex as he knelt to gather his notes. Alex noticed the highly polished wingtips by his side and took a long, slow, heated look up to Walter's face, eyes hidden behind the glare on the lenses of his glasses.
The breath caught in Alex's throat. This was a position he'd dreamed of for months, kneeling at Walter Skinner's feet, only...he never thought they'd be in his office, in front of two other agents, completely dressed. No, they were both completely naked, covered in sweat, Alex's face buried in Walter's lap, swallowing the big man whole. They were at a beach resort where clothing was banned, gay couples were welcome, and public displays were expected. Audience participation wasn't unheard of.
Scrambling quickly, Alex transferred the jumbled mess to the far end of the conference table, shuffling pages and printouts. Mulder watched the trembling hands and wondered why he would be so nervous. The young face still had a touch of oil, but no tell-tale acne. Oh, this one was young, but not that young. And he looked up at Walter like the man was a god. This relationship was worth a closer look.
They sat around the table as Alex laid out pages of printouts, sketches of the hard drive configuration based on the forensic searches, circuit paths and the notes on Alex's theory of why the machine went AI.
"I'm sure it was an electric surge in the motherboard where the sound connects with the CPU and the video card. It's got to be." Alex pointed to the photo of the computer's guts laid bare on a table.
Scully looked up at Mulder with questions in her eyes. Both agents looked at Skinner.
"Agent Krycek, I'm sure this is fascinating to you, and those like you who understand computers, but for the other three laymen in the room, can you break it down into terms we can understand? As in, can this ever happen again?" Walter sounded as bored as he looked.
"I...well, sir, yes, most likely it can happen again. I'm sure it probably will if someone builds a machine this way, loves it and nurtures it the way Brad Wilczek loved this machine, it may just happen again. I mean, what is basic life really, electrical impulses running through a body. Who's to say what body that life is in? I mean, with the absence of a soul..."
"Before we get into the philosophical meaning of life, Agent, can you assure me *this* particular machine will never again do as it has done in the past?" Walter's direct question threw Alex aback, taking his breath, and his words straight out of his head.
"I...well...I mean..."
"Yes or no, Agent Krycek. It's that simple."
"Well, sir," Mulder broke in, "considering the machine has gone to the metal shredder, I think that's a moot point. Hasn't it?" Mulder asked Krycek pointedly.
"Uh...well, yeah. All I had to work with was scrap pieces. They did save the processor for me, but other than that, the other pieces are junked."
It was plain as day. When Alex talked to Mulder, there was no problem in his speech or concentration. When he was directly addressed by the AD, Alex stuttered, stumbled and became a wreck. Mulder nodded internally. This was starting to get interesting.
"As long as I don't have to explain to the Director about another death, I'm pleased. Good work, agents. Thank you for your help."
With that, Walter turned and walked away from the small group at the table and went back to his desk. Mulder and Scully took this as their cue to leave the room. However, the young agent was still putting things together when they got to Walter's door. The big man looked up and cleared his throat, stopping Krycek's actions cold. Mulder watched as Alex looked up slowly at Walter, who had a questioning look on his face.
"Hey, Krycek, why don't we take this down to my office and you can explain this to me further?" Mulder said quickly, helping Alex gather his papers and get them in one pile.
"Uh, sure, Agent Mulder. I'd be happy to do so." Alex let Mulder lead him from the office by the shoulder, and out into the hallway. Scully led them to the elevator, which was thankfully empty.
"Thank you, Agent Mulder. I just...get..."
"Nervous around Skinner? Lots of agents do. He's got this stone solid gaze that goes through you like lasers. Just remember, he had your trucked in from outside for this. He trusts your knowledge of an area where he's out of his depth. You have an advantage over him."
"Wow, really?" The light that ignited in the already bright and sparkling green eyes proved to nearly blind the other two agents in the elevator. The door opened to the basement and Mulder led Scully and Alex to the lonely office behind the storage racks and boxes.
Alex wandered into the room, full of clippings and file cabinets, papers everywhere, and only one desk. He watched Scully put her file down and then walk to the door. "Mulder, I have a few more things to do today, but I'll send you my final report this afternoon. Is that alright?"
"Sure, Scully. See you later." Both men stood as Scully left the room and closed the door behind her. Mulder sat behind his desk and tossed his file folder on top of the plethora of other folders sitting there. He leaned back in his chair and cross his ankles on top of his desk. "So, how long have you had the hots for Skinner?" Mulder asked, point blank with a quizzical look on his face.
"Uh...excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?" Alex's face was a mask of mock surprise when he turned to Mulder, who smiled like a madman.
"I mean, how long have you wanted to have sex with our boss? It's a simple question, really."
Alex turned away and looked at the great wall of cork, tacked up with articles from all over the world, depicting alien encounters, artifacts and left over physical evidence. Agent Mulder was single-minded in his search for alien life, and evidence of his sister's abduction. Would he understand romantic and sexual obsession?
"Look Krycek...uh...can I call you Alex?"
"Of course, Agent Mulder."
"Just Mulder, OK? Look, I trained in classic psychology, Freud, Jung, Behavioral and Gestalt, to name a few. I know unresolved sexual tension when I see it. And you are the most skittish puppy when you're near the big dog."
Alex looked away and smiled. "It's that fucking obvious? I mean, even to him?"
"I don't know. Skinner doesn't look at his staff like that. Trust me, tons of agents and admins have hit on him over the years, male and female. Everyone's struck out. Then again, he's been happily married for ages...until lately."
"Oh, really? I mean, why would his marriage break up now? Any special reason?" Alex tried his hardest not to sound happy, or interested in anything other than the wellbeing of his superior, but his youth showed out.
"Calm down there, eager boy. What did you have in mind?" The look in Mulder's eye was pure mischief, nothing with which Alex wanted to tangle. This was how careers were ruined, he knew. You gave the wrong person too much information and you were labeled untouchable forever. Poor Mulder knew what that was like. Then again, if Mulder knew what that was like, maybe he would have more respect.
Mulder could sense something when Alex took his time answering. "Alex, look, anything you tell me stays with me. I won't go blabbing all over the Hoover Building. I promise. I mean, I'm Spooky Mulder. Who would listen to me anyway?"
Weighing his thoughts, Alex decided to jump in with both feet. He needed to trust someone. No one at the FBI was privy to his personal life, considering it was pretty contra-productive to the positive attitude they teach you in the FBI. Agents are your friends, family. They encouraged after hours congregating, even dating of agents, so long as it wasn't same sex. They wanted agents to depend on each other for everything, and to trust each other with their lives. Of course, there were the obvious taboos of supervisor/agent, so that no one felt harassed, but if someone of a higher rank in a different office were to get involved with an agent where his position bore no influence, no one thought twice about it. Except...
"Look, it's difficult enough..."
"Being gay? I can guarantee you're not the only gay agent. Hell, you're not the only gay agent in the Hoover right now."
"Present company included?" Alex asked, impish gleam in his eyes.
"I reserve my answer until later," Mulder answered quietly. Alex just nodded. "So, do you want him?"
Alex was struck by how straight forward Mulder was. He backed away, looking around the great dark place until his eyes rested on a small table beside a sink. An ancient-looking coffee maker stood there, waiting to be cleaned, filled and run. Busying himself in the task, Alex thought about how he would answer Mulder's question.
Mulder made use of the time by checking his email, which was empty except for porn spam. As cases were being solved, less and less people were emailing him. They were finding explanations for their problems, or they were being quieted. Mulder didn't know which, only that there was a lull in his caseload. Maybe it was time to do good for someone other than the generic masses. Someone who needed his help right there.
"Here," Alex said, putting a cup down before Mulder on the desk. "Black with two sugars, how you like it."
"How do you know that?" Mulder asked, taking a sip. It was better than any coffee he'd ever made in his life. "And how did you get this to taste so good?" Mulder sucked down another deep draught.
"I washed the pot. And I attended your lectures at the academy. I fetched you coffee once before. You never even looked at me, but that's OK."
"Which lectures?" Mulder asked.
"All of them. To be honest...I...attend every lecture at the academy that I can. I'm kind of a..."
"Bureau nerd? Yeah, it's OK, though. That's why we do the lectures. Is that why your post is so close to Washington? So you can hear my lectures?"
Well, sort of. I am fascinated with all the profiles you've done over your career. I think you're an amazing agent."
"Let me guess...you got to all of Skinner's lectures as well. Those wonderfully boring lectures about procedure, history, and whatever else he's asked to speak about. He gets those as punishment."
"Why?" Alex asked quickly, almost protectively.
Mulder had the good sense to look abashed at the answer. "He protects me, approves my crazy requests, bails my ass out with local law enforcement. He's a good man, and sometimes I think he let his marriage go in order to continue do the crap work they give him because of me."
"He must really care about you," Alex said, almost wistfully.
"No, not really, but he cares about the work I do. He believes in what I'm trying to do, uncover the truth that seems to be systematically covered up by the US government. If it wasn't for that, he'd let me hang myself."
The words filled Alex with a warmth that only served to strengthen his resolve that he wanted to be with this man. He was in love, and it was killing him that he couldn't open up about it. Maybe he could trust Mulder with his feelings.
"I think...I'm in love with him..." came the quiet statement, so quiet Mulder almost thought he imagined it.
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked. This kid is getting serious, he thought. Did he know what it entailed when one went against the conservative nature of the Bureau, regardless of J. Edgar's transvestite proclivities? AD Skinner was the most straight-laced man he'd ever met, emphasis on straight. This kid was in for a world of hurt. And all Mulder could do was watch. The kid had to go through it. It was part of growing up, becoming an adult, and becoming a man.
"How does one know when one is in love? I mean, I go to all his lectures, I almost killed my SAC so I could get on this case, and I've been doing research into a position here at the Hoover building so that I can open my own computer crimes department here. I want to be the youngest department head in Bureau history. I mean, I'm smart, I'm accomplished, I'm...good looking, I guess. I know he'll find me at least interesting..."
"What if he's terminally straight?" Mulder blurted out, before he could stop himself. Shit! He wasn't going to do that, to discourage the kid. Then he would come off as the know-it-all asshole.
"He's not. I'm never wrong about these things."
"He's married."
"Yeah, well, so was Elton John."
With that, Alex stood from the desk and left the basement office to return to his borrowed desk in the bullpen. Where the hell did Mulder get off telling him...the truth...It was the truth. No matter what vibes Skinner gave off, no matter how loud Alex's gaydar pinged, Alex knew nothing about the man himself. All Alex knew was that Walter S. Skinner, AD, was tall, sexy and everything Alex wanted in a man, smart, successful and succulent.
The light flashing on Alex's phone didn't bode well. It was too close to the weekend. Brodie better not wuss out. Alex listened to the dreaded message and was about to throw the phone across the room. His friend, Scott Brodie was supposed to go with him to the Redskins game that Sunday, but since the guy got married, he'd been ditching Alex for all the games they'd had planned so far that year. Shit.
"Fucking bitch! What the hell did he need to get goddam married for?" Alex ground out, back to the doorway.
"I wonder that myself sometimes," came the low response from the big man standing there, watching the interesting display.
Alex whirled around, lousy tie flying up into his face. "Sir, did you hear that? I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have...I mean, well, I didn't mean you...sir..."
"It's alright, Agent Krycek. I saw you on the phone. Is everything all right?"
"No, not at all, sir. My friend bailed out on me again for Sunday's Skins game. This is the third time this year. It's getting to be a real pain."
"You mean the game against Dallas? You have tickets?" The spark in Walter's eye was unmistakable.
"Yeah, I have season tickets. It's not hard to find people who want to go, but to find people who want to pay for the ticket. It's on the 50-yard, but not down too far. Premium seat. Problem is, most of my friends aren't as...far along in their careers as I am and can't afford to pay me back for the extra ticket."
"Why did you buy two seats in the first place?" Walter asked. Alex hadn't yet realized he was talking to Walter Skinner and not stuttering.
"Brodie and I put in for them a while ago, and he said he'd pay me back. Then he went and got married in Vegas one crazy drunk weekend. He came back hitched, she came back knocked up. Alex came back screwed. Oh, sir...I'm..." Alex finally realized to whom he was speaking.
Something that passed for a smile crossed Walter's tight lips. "I understand. I'll call your cellular phone Saturday so we can make plans to meet. Let me know the ticket cost then and I will reimburse you."
"Oh, no...sir..." But before Alex could protest more, Walter was gone and he was standing there, in the dark of the early November evening, alone. Oh shit, he thought. I have a date with Walter Skinner!
The first feeling was dizziness. Alex groped for his chair to sit and take a breath. He pulled out a sheet of yellow legal paper and began jotting down notes so he would know what to do, cleaning up the apartment, shopping for food, what if Skinner wanted to hang out afterward? A beer? SHIT!
Alex looked at the clock on the wall, seeing it was only five-thirty on a Friday. Mulder would still be there. Hell, Alex had only left him fifteen minutes ago. Mulder would help him, Alex was sure of it.
It was eerie how quiet the Hoover building became on a Friday after five. With his footsteps echoing in the stairwell, Alex made his way down to the basement, ignoring the smell of cigarettes on the air. Something must be wafting into the vent system from the street, he rationalized, and let the thought go.
As he predicted, Alex found Mulder sitting at his desk, in front of the computer, glasses on and reading something intently on the screen. Alex tapped lightly on the door, causing Mulder to jump and start clicking the mouse frantically.
"Oh, hey, how long have you been standing there?" Mulder asked, breathless and nervous.
"Uh, just got here. I need...shit, I need your help, Mulder. I had these..."
"Wait, is this about what we discussed earlier?" Mulder asked, standing and taking his glasses off. Alex noticed he was in his shirt sleeves and they were rolled up to his elbows, showing off surprisingly muscular forearms.
"Uh...yeah..." Alex watched as Mulder went to the door and closed it, engaging the lock.
"This place is crawling with spies, and no one needs to hear info that could damage you or Skinner. Now, what's the problem?"
"We have a date!" Alex exclaimed, collapsing in a chair.
"A what? How?!" Mulder asked, falling into his own, arms crossed tightly.
"My football buddy pussied out on me, Skinner heard and said he'd take the ticket."
"You have Redskins tickets?" Mulder asked, ignoring the rest of the statement.
"Yeah, and I have a date with Walter Fucking Skinner in two days and I have no idea what to do!" Alex was getting near hysterical.
"OK, relax. This isn't a nightmare."
"Yes, it is! I have to, like, clean the apartment, and change the sheets...shit, I have to wash sheets to have clean ones! I mean..."
"Alex, Jesus, calm down. I don't think Skinner, if you're right and he's gay, will sleep with you on the first date. He strikes me as a waiter. A courter, if you will. And even if he *is* gay, or bisexual, how do you know he's out of the closet? I mean, he's married, Alex. He may be repressing on a level we can't comprehend."
Alex gave Mulder a quizzical look. "What?"
"He may not respond to any overtures. Or he may respond badly. Or he may tell you off. Don't forget, he's in a precarious position. He may very well just...back down."
This was the moment Alex chose to bring forth a side of his personality that he hid from most people he knew. A wicked gleam twinkled in his eye and he smiled and said, "No one can resist me when I pour it on, Mulder. Hell, after a six-pack, you and I could know each other very well."
Mulder tried his best to quirk up his eyebrow like Scully, but he feared he only made himself look dizzy. "I may take you up on that one day," was all Mulder left to that.
With that, Alex turned and left Mulder again, and went home. Everyone knew where Alex lived, next door to THAT house on M street in Georgetown. His landlady, Mrs. Rosenberg, she loved to sit in her window and talk to Alex about the time when they were filming, while Alex weeded the garden. That house was a blessing to him, really. It had so much work left to be done since Mr. Rosenberg died. It was work Alex loved to do. He saw a picture of the house from long ago in Mrs. Rosenberg's living room, the day he sat drinking tea when he interviewed with her for the apartment. She loved his boyish face and that he was in law enforcement. Having a young man in the FBI in the house made her feel safer, she said, as long as he didn't play his radio too loud. This made Alex laugh, as she was deaf as a post anyway.
Although not so deaf that she didn't pop to the door every time he unlocked the front door and call out to him. "Are you home, Alex?" she creeched at him.
"Yes, Mrs. Rosenberg, it's me. I locked the front door and turned out the porch light. Thank you for leaving it on for me."
"I'm just glad you're home safely, Alex. You have a hard day?"
"Yes, ma'am, my boss worked me hard."
"Awww, poor baby. Well, you have a good dinner and get right to bed. Sweet dreams, little boy."
She always called him "little boy". It didn't quite bother Alex as much as if someone else were calling him that. He was very sensitive about his age, trying to act like an adult. Living on his own and taking care of his own finances was one thing, but getting the respect of an adult was another. It didn't help that he was the youngest of a very large, traditional Czech family. His mother dutifully kept his secret when he came out to her, but Alex knew his family would explode if they knew he was gay.
What would they do if they knew he was in love with his boss?
*-*-*-*
Is that the phone ringing? Alex asked himself as he dragged his ass out of bed. He grabbed the phone and drawled, "What?"
It had been a late night. One of Alex's friends from the gym called and invited him to a club with his friends. It was the first night out at a club since Alex left New York when he graduated from Columbia University. New York had the best gay clubs, but the few in DC weren't too bad. He spent the night dancing with sexy strangers, but went home frustrated, not wanting to risk a jack off in the back in case anyone from the bureau saw him. It was one thing to be gay, out and open; it was another certainly another to be promiscuous and careless.
"Hello?" he rasped, hoping it wasn't work, calling him in to a crime scene. He hated those, which was why he chose computer crimes.
"Agent Krycek? Did I wake you?" Holy shit! "Agent Krycek?"
"Uh, sir? I'm sorry, yes, I was asleep. I'm fine now, how can I help you?" Alex instinctively straightened up and brushed his hair back off his forehead, as if Walter could see him through the phone.
"I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to let you know that I will be picking you up at eleven-thirty tomorrow to go to the stadium. Is that acceptable?" Walter wielded his assistant director voice the way the Musketeers waved their swords.
"Yes, sir, I'll be waiting outside for you, just let me give you my address..."
"I have it from your personnel file. I'll see you tomorrow. Good day." The click was quiet but unmistakable.
"Well, I guess that answers that question." Alex lowered the handset back to the base and went about his morning, waking up, getting coffee and starting his day. He cleaned, shopped, brought things to Mrs. Rosenberg so she wouldn't have to brave the rickety front steps, and then spent the night pacing. What would they talk about? What should he say to his...boss? Hero? Prospective lover?
Alex flipped through the television channels, sports, news, movies, and then settled on some doctor drama. Alex looked up from the television and saw that it was already gone midnight. Was it worth it to continue to watch nothing? With a resounding sigh, Alex used the remote to turn off the set, sending the room from flickering bluish to blackened, with a soft orange glow from the sodium arc streetlights outside. He padded from his living room to the bedroom where he shucked his clothes in the dark, more orange light from the window streaming through the partially open blinds. He stood by the windows a few more minutes, enjoying the late fall chill in the air, blowing on his thighs where he'd opened the window a crack.
By sunrise, Alex rolled out of bed, not having slept much at all. He showered and dressed in a daze, pulling his Redskins sweatshirt on over his layers of t-shirt and thermal shirt. It would be a cold day for November, and the stadium didn't have heated seats where they would be sitting.
Alex spent the morning puttering around the apartment, putting things right, dusting, looking over books that sat on his bookshelf unread. It was a shame that he didn't have the kind of time he used to when he went through three or four books a week. That was when he lived in New York, and he carried a book around for his subway trips. He went through books like they were going out of style. He took one down and flipped it open, starting on the first page, not even looking at the title or the summary. He'd read them all, and he didn't keep a book he didn't love.
Before he knew it, his phone was ringing and it clicked over to voicemail. He heard his bland greeting entreat the caller to leave a message and when it beeped, the annoyed voice of his boss droned through.
"I thought you would be waiting outside for me, and I hope you're not asleep..."
Alex raced to the phone and snatched it up. "Sir, I'm so sorry! I was reading, I'll be right down!"
Alex placed the book back on the shelf and grabbed his jacket and backpack before locking his door and making his way down the steps. He prayed Mrs. Rosenberg wouldn't stop him, as he pounded down quickly. He felt like such a fool, leaving his boss, his crush, his undoing, sitting in the car while he read "The Catcher in the Rye" yet again.
When he stepped out onto the porch, he wasn't prepared to see the object of his desire squatting before one of his tires, checking the pressure with a long silver gauge. The older man's jeans were pulled tightly against his rear, molding against the hard muscles and Alex gave silent thanks that he was wearing baggy corduroy pants and a pea coat that ended at mid-thigh. Otherwise, he'd have an awful time explaining his enormous erection to his boss.
"Sir, is something wrong with the tire?" Alex asked, trying to look more concerned than embarrassed.
The kneeling man turned to him, seemingly expecting Alex to have knelt beside him, but suddenly, Alex was confronted with his boss' face at crotch level. Time stood still for Alex. All he saw was a glint of sun reflecting off the shiny top of his boss' bald head, and a longing to kiss that very spot over-took Alex with a grip so tight, he lost his breath a moment. When he heard the clearing of throat, Alex was brought back to reality.
"No, Agent Krycek, there isn't anything wrong with the tires. I felt a shimmy on the road, so I wanted to check the pressure to be sure."
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Walter continued to look up at Alex where he stood.
"Agent, would you mind taking a step back so I can stand up?" Walter asked, with clips measured tones.
"Uh...yeah...sure, no problem, Sir." Alex scrambled back two or three steps and watched as Walter attempted to stand up. Alex thought to himself, oh God I should help him up. He took a step toward Walter, bending and holding one hand out to offer him help. Not gauging Walter's agility, in what could be called an excellent reenactment of a classic slapstick moment, both men smacked foreheads against each other.
"Christ, I'm so sorry!" Alex exclaimed, but stood back to let Walter stand by himself. Walter put a hand to his four head, then looked at the hand to check for blood.
"Well, I guess we got the awkward moment out of the way. What say we use this time to gather ourselves, and then once we get to the stadium we can start fresh. Use the silence of the drive there to think about what you'd like to say later on."
Alex just nodded dumbly. He was on autopilot as he walked around the car to the door and got into the front seat. Walter slid in beside him and began to pull the seat belt around him. He looked over at Alex who sat stock still. "You can store your bag in the back seat." Alex looked over at the man who just spoke as if he were speaking that a foreign language. Walter just tilted his head to one side and cocked an eyebrow up as if questioning why Alex was just still sitting there.
"Oh! Yeah, right, back seat. Thanks!" Alex turned and gently placed his backpack on the floor behind his seat and took a moment to look around the truck. It was as neat as a pin as if Walter had just vacuumed this vehicle before coming to meet him. Walter turned on DC 101 which was the local classic rock station and true to his word the ride to the stadium was silent. Alex was eternally grateful. But there was nothing in his head when they parked for him to discuss with Walter.
"So are you going to give me my ticket to hand to the agent myself or is this a date and you will hand the ticket and for me?" Walter asked with a gentle smile.
Alex looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and reached into his pocket for the tickets. He handed one to Walter and looked down at his own, making sure he had his own seat. He was superstitious and the Skins had lost both times he didn't sit in the seat he wanted. But, this time, it didn't matter. Walter could sit wherever he wanted.
They walked in and made their way to their seats, Alex checking for the coffee kiosks. It was going to be a fairly warm day, but he loved a hot cup of coffee just before a game. "Sir, can I offer you a cup of coffee? There's a Starbucks kiosk over there," and Alex pointed it out, "and I usually have a cup before a game."
"That sounds great, Alex, thanks. And...while we're here, being friendly, please call me Walter. The 'Sir' unnerves me while I'm wearing jeans and a leather jacket." Alex looked over his boss' attire and wanted to comment on just how great those jeans and jacket looked, but thought better of it.
"You take your coffee straight black, right?" Alex asked.
"Yes, how did you know?" Walter asked.
Alex just sighed and said, "Please don't ask, si...Walter. I just know these things."
Alex walked to the kiosk and got two venti bold black coffees for them. As he walked back, he just looked at his boss, sitting there, waiting patiently for Alex to return. God, Walter could keep the money for the ticket. It would be the perfect day. Football with his boss, with his crush...with his beloved. Oh, if he died on the way home, his life would be complete: becoming a full fledged FBI agent and going on a date with his true love.
By the time the game started, Alex and Walter were happily engaged in small talk about both teams, which soon became a battle of statistics and tactics, two generals defending their armies, trying to show dominance over the other. Alex couldn't deny that he was getting turned on.
At half time, both men were very hungry and went for food at the snack bars. Both men had burgers and fries, both men had beers. Alex marveled at how alike they were. They followed the same types of players, both like American league baseball over National league, they both liked imported beer, preferably stout, and they both loved being in the FBI, although they stopped all talk about work.
"Sorry, Alex, when I'm at a football game, no shop talk. It will make for a better day for both of us."
"Yes sir... uh, sorry, Walter."
"You'll get used to it. Now get us to more beers before the second half starts."
"Yes sir!"
Walter gave Alex a very cross look. "Hey, I would say that to anyone of my friends that gave me a direct order."
Alex gave Walter broad smile, before making his way to get to more stout ales. The second half had started by the time he reached the seats, but nothing significant had happened in the time he was away. As the second half progressed, Alex noticed that Walter was getting a bit more physical with him. When the Skins would turn a good play, he got a playful shove on the shoulder. When Dallas scored, he got a squeeze on the neck and a strong, playful shake.
It was almost frightening, but it was refreshing to be physical with someone, playful, and not have it as a sexual overture on a dance floor. He couldn't do this with Brodie, who knew Alex was gay. Brodie always tightened up a little around Alex, even though Alex told Brodie that it would never happen between them. Alex didn't fancy Brodie even a little.
By the end of the game, after a stunning win by Dallas, Alex was almost glazed-over happy. I was an incredible day, filled with a camaraderie that Alex hadn't known since he was a kid. He had a football buddy. Hopefully this wouldn't be the only game they could go to together.
"Alex, I can't remember when I had a better time at a football game," Walter said, as they were making their way back to the SUV.
"Me too, Walter. Thanks for taking my ticket." Alex immediately regretted what he said. Holy shit, how did he deal with the money issue? He couldn't ask his boss for cash...oh God, where did he go from here?
"You know, I have a question about that," Walter asked, as they locked themselves in the truck and secured their seat belts.
"Uh, sure...yeah?" Alex was flummoxed.
"You said your buddy flaked out on you a few times. Do would you sell me his left over tickets? I may not be the biggest Redskins fan..."
"Yes, of course!" Alex blurted out, cutting off Walter's explanation. Alex realized just how excited and silly he sounded and tried to compose his features as best he could. "Uh, sorry, um yeah. Sure, cuz, uh, anything's gotta be better than Brodie bailing on me all the time."
Alex looked away out the side window, trying to compose his features. What a stupid thing to say! Could he finally get his foot out of his mouth?
"I firmly understand. Monday, let me know what I'll owe you for the remainder of the tickets and I'll write a check. Now, are you hungry?"
Alex thought about it for a moment. Yeah, he was kinda hungry. He was mortified at his behavior, but hungry. "I could eat, yeah."
"Good, I need some real food. There's a road house down outside Alexandria, where I live in Crystal City. They get this...I don't know where they get it from, but they get the most delicious steaks and whatever Ruby does to them, you have to try it."
And so they went to the road house, Ruby's Table, and Ruby came out to make a fuss over "Walt's little brother".
"No, Ruby, this is my agent, Alex Krycek. He works...well, technically, now you work for me."
"Well, isn't that nice!" Ruby said. Skin as dark as any woman he'd ever seen, Alex loved how soft her hands were on his face as she held his cheeks, the way his grandmother would have. "Boy, you need you some protein. You vegetarian, or some foolishness like that?"
"No...I...no, ma'am. I just...I sit a lot. So I tend to eat...little."
"Baby, you need you some greens. You come to Mama Ruby, I'll fix you up good." She waddled back into the kitchen to start their meal. Alex looked back at her, then turned back to Walter.
"Wait, we didn't order!" Alex said, a bit annoyed with himself.
"Doesn't matter," Walter said. "She'll make what she wants for us to eat. Trust me, you'll love it."
Alex smiled and sat back. Two tall, frosty beers made their way to the table via a small, tight, muscular girl, head full of cornrow braids and shorts that barely covered her well-rounded fanny. She smiled down at Alex, and Alex politely smiled back. Ruby came back out carrying a tray and said, "Don't you look at my grandbaby like that, little man. I'll slap the taste out your mouth."
She put down plates full of food in front of both men. Alex was transfixed by the plate with a huge steak, covered in breading, topped with gravy so thick it didn't drip, it crawled. The flecks of spices speckled the mound of creamy mashed potatoes, promising more than just the haute cuisine roasted garlic.
"Christ, I'm going to have to spend three hours on the treadmill after this meal," Alex said, then he inhaled the aroma deeply. Memories of his youth, his mother's heavy eastern European cooking, filling and comforting, all rolled in his head, making his hand move on its own to take the fork and start with the potatoes, then the greens, then he took up a knife to start cutting into the steak.
Both men ate with gusto, guzzling pitchers of beer down with their plates of food. They ended up in the bar area, with huge glasses of water, watching yet another football game, when Alex looked at his watch.
"Walter, oh my God! It's ten thirty! We need to get on the road, I'm never going to get up for work in the morning!" Alex began to stand, but soon found himself wobbling. Walter came up quickly behind him and caught him about the waist. Alex turned and looked up into Walter's face, smiling. "Sorry, boss, I'm a little clumsy, tonight."
Walter smiled down and said, "I'm glad you're not driving."
Ruby came shuffling out of the kitchen and looked down at the scene. "Are you boys good to drive?"
"Yes, ma'am," Walter said. "I'm fit, I'll make sure Alex gets home safely."
"If I hear of a wreck, you know I'm comin' to your bedside. And not the graveyard." Walter nodded. He did feel fine, able to drive. He didn't feel the dizziness that he usually associated with intoxication.
So, whacha think?
So, love me!!
Title: A Little Techno-babble is Good for the Soul
Author: Amazon X
E-mail: yankeestarbuck@yahoo.com
Website: http://yankeestarbuck.com
Feedback: Why, yes, thank you!
Category: X-Files, slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alex has fallen helplessly in love, and can't do as he wants.
Archive: Make Believe. All else, ask, I usually share.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, I have no money.
Notes: Ask Ursula...undetaed, so fuck-ups are included.
*-*-*-*
"We have a specialist in from Baltimore. He's new, green, but he's the best the academy has seen in the last five years with electronics." Walter Skinner didn't look at his prize pains in the ass as he spoke to them, Mulder and Scully. They'd just come off medical leave from their last case, a computer that had gone AI and was killing people in the building. Scully needed the leave, Mulder was told to stay on leave for three days. It gave Skinner time to work with the forensic computer analyst to figure out why the computer went back online. The kid had the computer isolated and was working with it, to see what went wrong.
There was a knock at the door and Walter looked up from the case file to call the person in.
Both Scully and Mulder were amazed at the youth of the agent who walked in, piles of tell-tale green and white striped computer paper wrapped in his arms. He'd forgone his jacket and his cheap-looking tie was askew. Right away, Scully took to him, likening him to her younger brother, Charlie.
Mulder was another story. This one was ripe, and ready to be the new kid, the one getting the grief. He'd been Spooky Mulder for too long. Time for a green kid to take over as whipping boy.
Alex stumbled into the room, looking over the steno book full of hastily scrawled notes. He'd been fascinated by the computer processor from the Eurisco building. He was able to recover some of the programming for the Central Operating System, but there were still holes he was working on filling. He'd lost track of time and ended up working on the processor all night long.
"Agents Mulder and Scully, this is Special Agent Alex Krycek. He's fresh from the academy, still full of positive attitude. Mulder, please don't jade him yet."
"Don't worry, sir, I'll just piss him off a little." Mulder's cheeky smile almost brought a snicker from Scully.
"I...I'm so sorry I'm late...I...was just so fascinated by this processor. It's just...so..." Alex reached for a particular page and his entire stack of printouts hit the floor in a great flourish.
"Why don't we take this to the conference table?" Walter recommended, standing beside Alex as he knelt to gather his notes. Alex noticed the highly polished wingtips by his side and took a long, slow, heated look up to Walter's face, eyes hidden behind the glare on the lenses of his glasses.
The breath caught in Alex's throat. This was a position he'd dreamed of for months, kneeling at Walter Skinner's feet, only...he never thought they'd be in his office, in front of two other agents, completely dressed. No, they were both completely naked, covered in sweat, Alex's face buried in Walter's lap, swallowing the big man whole. They were at a beach resort where clothing was banned, gay couples were welcome, and public displays were expected. Audience participation wasn't unheard of.
Scrambling quickly, Alex transferred the jumbled mess to the far end of the conference table, shuffling pages and printouts. Mulder watched the trembling hands and wondered why he would be so nervous. The young face still had a touch of oil, but no tell-tale acne. Oh, this one was young, but not that young. And he looked up at Walter like the man was a god. This relationship was worth a closer look.
They sat around the table as Alex laid out pages of printouts, sketches of the hard drive configuration based on the forensic searches, circuit paths and the notes on Alex's theory of why the machine went AI.
"I'm sure it was an electric surge in the motherboard where the sound connects with the CPU and the video card. It's got to be." Alex pointed to the photo of the computer's guts laid bare on a table.
Scully looked up at Mulder with questions in her eyes. Both agents looked at Skinner.
"Agent Krycek, I'm sure this is fascinating to you, and those like you who understand computers, but for the other three laymen in the room, can you break it down into terms we can understand? As in, can this ever happen again?" Walter sounded as bored as he looked.
"I...well, sir, yes, most likely it can happen again. I'm sure it probably will if someone builds a machine this way, loves it and nurtures it the way Brad Wilczek loved this machine, it may just happen again. I mean, what is basic life really, electrical impulses running through a body. Who's to say what body that life is in? I mean, with the absence of a soul..."
"Before we get into the philosophical meaning of life, Agent, can you assure me *this* particular machine will never again do as it has done in the past?" Walter's direct question threw Alex aback, taking his breath, and his words straight out of his head.
"I...well...I mean..."
"Yes or no, Agent Krycek. It's that simple."
"Well, sir," Mulder broke in, "considering the machine has gone to the metal shredder, I think that's a moot point. Hasn't it?" Mulder asked Krycek pointedly.
"Uh...well, yeah. All I had to work with was scrap pieces. They did save the processor for me, but other than that, the other pieces are junked."
It was plain as day. When Alex talked to Mulder, there was no problem in his speech or concentration. When he was directly addressed by the AD, Alex stuttered, stumbled and became a wreck. Mulder nodded internally. This was starting to get interesting.
"As long as I don't have to explain to the Director about another death, I'm pleased. Good work, agents. Thank you for your help."
With that, Walter turned and walked away from the small group at the table and went back to his desk. Mulder and Scully took this as their cue to leave the room. However, the young agent was still putting things together when they got to Walter's door. The big man looked up and cleared his throat, stopping Krycek's actions cold. Mulder watched as Alex looked up slowly at Walter, who had a questioning look on his face.
"Hey, Krycek, why don't we take this down to my office and you can explain this to me further?" Mulder said quickly, helping Alex gather his papers and get them in one pile.
"Uh, sure, Agent Mulder. I'd be happy to do so." Alex let Mulder lead him from the office by the shoulder, and out into the hallway. Scully led them to the elevator, which was thankfully empty.
"Thank you, Agent Mulder. I just...get..."
"Nervous around Skinner? Lots of agents do. He's got this stone solid gaze that goes through you like lasers. Just remember, he had your trucked in from outside for this. He trusts your knowledge of an area where he's out of his depth. You have an advantage over him."
"Wow, really?" The light that ignited in the already bright and sparkling green eyes proved to nearly blind the other two agents in the elevator. The door opened to the basement and Mulder led Scully and Alex to the lonely office behind the storage racks and boxes.
Alex wandered into the room, full of clippings and file cabinets, papers everywhere, and only one desk. He watched Scully put her file down and then walk to the door. "Mulder, I have a few more things to do today, but I'll send you my final report this afternoon. Is that alright?"
"Sure, Scully. See you later." Both men stood as Scully left the room and closed the door behind her. Mulder sat behind his desk and tossed his file folder on top of the plethora of other folders sitting there. He leaned back in his chair and cross his ankles on top of his desk. "So, how long have you had the hots for Skinner?" Mulder asked, point blank with a quizzical look on his face.
"Uh...excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?" Alex's face was a mask of mock surprise when he turned to Mulder, who smiled like a madman.
"I mean, how long have you wanted to have sex with our boss? It's a simple question, really."
Alex turned away and looked at the great wall of cork, tacked up with articles from all over the world, depicting alien encounters, artifacts and left over physical evidence. Agent Mulder was single-minded in his search for alien life, and evidence of his sister's abduction. Would he understand romantic and sexual obsession?
"Look Krycek...uh...can I call you Alex?"
"Of course, Agent Mulder."
"Just Mulder, OK? Look, I trained in classic psychology, Freud, Jung, Behavioral and Gestalt, to name a few. I know unresolved sexual tension when I see it. And you are the most skittish puppy when you're near the big dog."
Alex looked away and smiled. "It's that fucking obvious? I mean, even to him?"
"I don't know. Skinner doesn't look at his staff like that. Trust me, tons of agents and admins have hit on him over the years, male and female. Everyone's struck out. Then again, he's been happily married for ages...until lately."
"Oh, really? I mean, why would his marriage break up now? Any special reason?" Alex tried his hardest not to sound happy, or interested in anything other than the wellbeing of his superior, but his youth showed out.
"Calm down there, eager boy. What did you have in mind?" The look in Mulder's eye was pure mischief, nothing with which Alex wanted to tangle. This was how careers were ruined, he knew. You gave the wrong person too much information and you were labeled untouchable forever. Poor Mulder knew what that was like. Then again, if Mulder knew what that was like, maybe he would have more respect.
Mulder could sense something when Alex took his time answering. "Alex, look, anything you tell me stays with me. I won't go blabbing all over the Hoover Building. I promise. I mean, I'm Spooky Mulder. Who would listen to me anyway?"
Weighing his thoughts, Alex decided to jump in with both feet. He needed to trust someone. No one at the FBI was privy to his personal life, considering it was pretty contra-productive to the positive attitude they teach you in the FBI. Agents are your friends, family. They encouraged after hours congregating, even dating of agents, so long as it wasn't same sex. They wanted agents to depend on each other for everything, and to trust each other with their lives. Of course, there were the obvious taboos of supervisor/agent, so that no one felt harassed, but if someone of a higher rank in a different office were to get involved with an agent where his position bore no influence, no one thought twice about it. Except...
"Look, it's difficult enough..."
"Being gay? I can guarantee you're not the only gay agent. Hell, you're not the only gay agent in the Hoover right now."
"Present company included?" Alex asked, impish gleam in his eyes.
"I reserve my answer until later," Mulder answered quietly. Alex just nodded. "So, do you want him?"
Alex was struck by how straight forward Mulder was. He backed away, looking around the great dark place until his eyes rested on a small table beside a sink. An ancient-looking coffee maker stood there, waiting to be cleaned, filled and run. Busying himself in the task, Alex thought about how he would answer Mulder's question.
Mulder made use of the time by checking his email, which was empty except for porn spam. As cases were being solved, less and less people were emailing him. They were finding explanations for their problems, or they were being quieted. Mulder didn't know which, only that there was a lull in his caseload. Maybe it was time to do good for someone other than the generic masses. Someone who needed his help right there.
"Here," Alex said, putting a cup down before Mulder on the desk. "Black with two sugars, how you like it."
"How do you know that?" Mulder asked, taking a sip. It was better than any coffee he'd ever made in his life. "And how did you get this to taste so good?" Mulder sucked down another deep draught.
"I washed the pot. And I attended your lectures at the academy. I fetched you coffee once before. You never even looked at me, but that's OK."
"Which lectures?" Mulder asked.
"All of them. To be honest...I...attend every lecture at the academy that I can. I'm kind of a..."
"Bureau nerd? Yeah, it's OK, though. That's why we do the lectures. Is that why your post is so close to Washington? So you can hear my lectures?"
Well, sort of. I am fascinated with all the profiles you've done over your career. I think you're an amazing agent."
"Let me guess...you got to all of Skinner's lectures as well. Those wonderfully boring lectures about procedure, history, and whatever else he's asked to speak about. He gets those as punishment."
"Why?" Alex asked quickly, almost protectively.
Mulder had the good sense to look abashed at the answer. "He protects me, approves my crazy requests, bails my ass out with local law enforcement. He's a good man, and sometimes I think he let his marriage go in order to continue do the crap work they give him because of me."
"He must really care about you," Alex said, almost wistfully.
"No, not really, but he cares about the work I do. He believes in what I'm trying to do, uncover the truth that seems to be systematically covered up by the US government. If it wasn't for that, he'd let me hang myself."
The words filled Alex with a warmth that only served to strengthen his resolve that he wanted to be with this man. He was in love, and it was killing him that he couldn't open up about it. Maybe he could trust Mulder with his feelings.
"I think...I'm in love with him..." came the quiet statement, so quiet Mulder almost thought he imagined it.
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked. This kid is getting serious, he thought. Did he know what it entailed when one went against the conservative nature of the Bureau, regardless of J. Edgar's transvestite proclivities? AD Skinner was the most straight-laced man he'd ever met, emphasis on straight. This kid was in for a world of hurt. And all Mulder could do was watch. The kid had to go through it. It was part of growing up, becoming an adult, and becoming a man.
"How does one know when one is in love? I mean, I go to all his lectures, I almost killed my SAC so I could get on this case, and I've been doing research into a position here at the Hoover building so that I can open my own computer crimes department here. I want to be the youngest department head in Bureau history. I mean, I'm smart, I'm accomplished, I'm...good looking, I guess. I know he'll find me at least interesting..."
"What if he's terminally straight?" Mulder blurted out, before he could stop himself. Shit! He wasn't going to do that, to discourage the kid. Then he would come off as the know-it-all asshole.
"He's not. I'm never wrong about these things."
"He's married."
"Yeah, well, so was Elton John."
With that, Alex stood from the desk and left the basement office to return to his borrowed desk in the bullpen. Where the hell did Mulder get off telling him...the truth...It was the truth. No matter what vibes Skinner gave off, no matter how loud Alex's gaydar pinged, Alex knew nothing about the man himself. All Alex knew was that Walter S. Skinner, AD, was tall, sexy and everything Alex wanted in a man, smart, successful and succulent.
The light flashing on Alex's phone didn't bode well. It was too close to the weekend. Brodie better not wuss out. Alex listened to the dreaded message and was about to throw the phone across the room. His friend, Scott Brodie was supposed to go with him to the Redskins game that Sunday, but since the guy got married, he'd been ditching Alex for all the games they'd had planned so far that year. Shit.
"Fucking bitch! What the hell did he need to get goddam married for?" Alex ground out, back to the doorway.
"I wonder that myself sometimes," came the low response from the big man standing there, watching the interesting display.
Alex whirled around, lousy tie flying up into his face. "Sir, did you hear that? I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have...I mean, well, I didn't mean you...sir..."
"It's alright, Agent Krycek. I saw you on the phone. Is everything all right?"
"No, not at all, sir. My friend bailed out on me again for Sunday's Skins game. This is the third time this year. It's getting to be a real pain."
"You mean the game against Dallas? You have tickets?" The spark in Walter's eye was unmistakable.
"Yeah, I have season tickets. It's not hard to find people who want to go, but to find people who want to pay for the ticket. It's on the 50-yard, but not down too far. Premium seat. Problem is, most of my friends aren't as...far along in their careers as I am and can't afford to pay me back for the extra ticket."
"Why did you buy two seats in the first place?" Walter asked. Alex hadn't yet realized he was talking to Walter Skinner and not stuttering.
"Brodie and I put in for them a while ago, and he said he'd pay me back. Then he went and got married in Vegas one crazy drunk weekend. He came back hitched, she came back knocked up. Alex came back screwed. Oh, sir...I'm..." Alex finally realized to whom he was speaking.
Something that passed for a smile crossed Walter's tight lips. "I understand. I'll call your cellular phone Saturday so we can make plans to meet. Let me know the ticket cost then and I will reimburse you."
"Oh, no...sir..." But before Alex could protest more, Walter was gone and he was standing there, in the dark of the early November evening, alone. Oh shit, he thought. I have a date with Walter Skinner!
The first feeling was dizziness. Alex groped for his chair to sit and take a breath. He pulled out a sheet of yellow legal paper and began jotting down notes so he would know what to do, cleaning up the apartment, shopping for food, what if Skinner wanted to hang out afterward? A beer? SHIT!
Alex looked at the clock on the wall, seeing it was only five-thirty on a Friday. Mulder would still be there. Hell, Alex had only left him fifteen minutes ago. Mulder would help him, Alex was sure of it.
It was eerie how quiet the Hoover building became on a Friday after five. With his footsteps echoing in the stairwell, Alex made his way down to the basement, ignoring the smell of cigarettes on the air. Something must be wafting into the vent system from the street, he rationalized, and let the thought go.
As he predicted, Alex found Mulder sitting at his desk, in front of the computer, glasses on and reading something intently on the screen. Alex tapped lightly on the door, causing Mulder to jump and start clicking the mouse frantically.
"Oh, hey, how long have you been standing there?" Mulder asked, breathless and nervous.
"Uh, just got here. I need...shit, I need your help, Mulder. I had these..."
"Wait, is this about what we discussed earlier?" Mulder asked, standing and taking his glasses off. Alex noticed he was in his shirt sleeves and they were rolled up to his elbows, showing off surprisingly muscular forearms.
"Uh...yeah..." Alex watched as Mulder went to the door and closed it, engaging the lock.
"This place is crawling with spies, and no one needs to hear info that could damage you or Skinner. Now, what's the problem?"
"We have a date!" Alex exclaimed, collapsing in a chair.
"A what? How?!" Mulder asked, falling into his own, arms crossed tightly.
"My football buddy pussied out on me, Skinner heard and said he'd take the ticket."
"You have Redskins tickets?" Mulder asked, ignoring the rest of the statement.
"Yeah, and I have a date with Walter Fucking Skinner in two days and I have no idea what to do!" Alex was getting near hysterical.
"OK, relax. This isn't a nightmare."
"Yes, it is! I have to, like, clean the apartment, and change the sheets...shit, I have to wash sheets to have clean ones! I mean..."
"Alex, Jesus, calm down. I don't think Skinner, if you're right and he's gay, will sleep with you on the first date. He strikes me as a waiter. A courter, if you will. And even if he *is* gay, or bisexual, how do you know he's out of the closet? I mean, he's married, Alex. He may be repressing on a level we can't comprehend."
Alex gave Mulder a quizzical look. "What?"
"He may not respond to any overtures. Or he may respond badly. Or he may tell you off. Don't forget, he's in a precarious position. He may very well just...back down."
This was the moment Alex chose to bring forth a side of his personality that he hid from most people he knew. A wicked gleam twinkled in his eye and he smiled and said, "No one can resist me when I pour it on, Mulder. Hell, after a six-pack, you and I could know each other very well."
Mulder tried his best to quirk up his eyebrow like Scully, but he feared he only made himself look dizzy. "I may take you up on that one day," was all Mulder left to that.
With that, Alex turned and left Mulder again, and went home. Everyone knew where Alex lived, next door to THAT house on M street in Georgetown. His landlady, Mrs. Rosenberg, she loved to sit in her window and talk to Alex about the time when they were filming, while Alex weeded the garden. That house was a blessing to him, really. It had so much work left to be done since Mr. Rosenberg died. It was work Alex loved to do. He saw a picture of the house from long ago in Mrs. Rosenberg's living room, the day he sat drinking tea when he interviewed with her for the apartment. She loved his boyish face and that he was in law enforcement. Having a young man in the FBI in the house made her feel safer, she said, as long as he didn't play his radio too loud. This made Alex laugh, as she was deaf as a post anyway.
Although not so deaf that she didn't pop to the door every time he unlocked the front door and call out to him. "Are you home, Alex?" she creeched at him.
"Yes, Mrs. Rosenberg, it's me. I locked the front door and turned out the porch light. Thank you for leaving it on for me."
"I'm just glad you're home safely, Alex. You have a hard day?"
"Yes, ma'am, my boss worked me hard."
"Awww, poor baby. Well, you have a good dinner and get right to bed. Sweet dreams, little boy."
She always called him "little boy". It didn't quite bother Alex as much as if someone else were calling him that. He was very sensitive about his age, trying to act like an adult. Living on his own and taking care of his own finances was one thing, but getting the respect of an adult was another. It didn't help that he was the youngest of a very large, traditional Czech family. His mother dutifully kept his secret when he came out to her, but Alex knew his family would explode if they knew he was gay.
What would they do if they knew he was in love with his boss?
*-*-*-*
Is that the phone ringing? Alex asked himself as he dragged his ass out of bed. He grabbed the phone and drawled, "What?"
It had been a late night. One of Alex's friends from the gym called and invited him to a club with his friends. It was the first night out at a club since Alex left New York when he graduated from Columbia University. New York had the best gay clubs, but the few in DC weren't too bad. He spent the night dancing with sexy strangers, but went home frustrated, not wanting to risk a jack off in the back in case anyone from the bureau saw him. It was one thing to be gay, out and open; it was another certainly another to be promiscuous and careless.
"Hello?" he rasped, hoping it wasn't work, calling him in to a crime scene. He hated those, which was why he chose computer crimes.
"Agent Krycek? Did I wake you?" Holy shit! "Agent Krycek?"
"Uh, sir? I'm sorry, yes, I was asleep. I'm fine now, how can I help you?" Alex instinctively straightened up and brushed his hair back off his forehead, as if Walter could see him through the phone.
"I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to let you know that I will be picking you up at eleven-thirty tomorrow to go to the stadium. Is that acceptable?" Walter wielded his assistant director voice the way the Musketeers waved their swords.
"Yes, sir, I'll be waiting outside for you, just let me give you my address..."
"I have it from your personnel file. I'll see you tomorrow. Good day." The click was quiet but unmistakable.
"Well, I guess that answers that question." Alex lowered the handset back to the base and went about his morning, waking up, getting coffee and starting his day. He cleaned, shopped, brought things to Mrs. Rosenberg so she wouldn't have to brave the rickety front steps, and then spent the night pacing. What would they talk about? What should he say to his...boss? Hero? Prospective lover?
Alex flipped through the television channels, sports, news, movies, and then settled on some doctor drama. Alex looked up from the television and saw that it was already gone midnight. Was it worth it to continue to watch nothing? With a resounding sigh, Alex used the remote to turn off the set, sending the room from flickering bluish to blackened, with a soft orange glow from the sodium arc streetlights outside. He padded from his living room to the bedroom where he shucked his clothes in the dark, more orange light from the window streaming through the partially open blinds. He stood by the windows a few more minutes, enjoying the late fall chill in the air, blowing on his thighs where he'd opened the window a crack.
By sunrise, Alex rolled out of bed, not having slept much at all. He showered and dressed in a daze, pulling his Redskins sweatshirt on over his layers of t-shirt and thermal shirt. It would be a cold day for November, and the stadium didn't have heated seats where they would be sitting.
Alex spent the morning puttering around the apartment, putting things right, dusting, looking over books that sat on his bookshelf unread. It was a shame that he didn't have the kind of time he used to when he went through three or four books a week. That was when he lived in New York, and he carried a book around for his subway trips. He went through books like they were going out of style. He took one down and flipped it open, starting on the first page, not even looking at the title or the summary. He'd read them all, and he didn't keep a book he didn't love.
Before he knew it, his phone was ringing and it clicked over to voicemail. He heard his bland greeting entreat the caller to leave a message and when it beeped, the annoyed voice of his boss droned through.
"I thought you would be waiting outside for me, and I hope you're not asleep..."
Alex raced to the phone and snatched it up. "Sir, I'm so sorry! I was reading, I'll be right down!"
Alex placed the book back on the shelf and grabbed his jacket and backpack before locking his door and making his way down the steps. He prayed Mrs. Rosenberg wouldn't stop him, as he pounded down quickly. He felt like such a fool, leaving his boss, his crush, his undoing, sitting in the car while he read "The Catcher in the Rye" yet again.
When he stepped out onto the porch, he wasn't prepared to see the object of his desire squatting before one of his tires, checking the pressure with a long silver gauge. The older man's jeans were pulled tightly against his rear, molding against the hard muscles and Alex gave silent thanks that he was wearing baggy corduroy pants and a pea coat that ended at mid-thigh. Otherwise, he'd have an awful time explaining his enormous erection to his boss.
"Sir, is something wrong with the tire?" Alex asked, trying to look more concerned than embarrassed.
The kneeling man turned to him, seemingly expecting Alex to have knelt beside him, but suddenly, Alex was confronted with his boss' face at crotch level. Time stood still for Alex. All he saw was a glint of sun reflecting off the shiny top of his boss' bald head, and a longing to kiss that very spot over-took Alex with a grip so tight, he lost his breath a moment. When he heard the clearing of throat, Alex was brought back to reality.
"No, Agent Krycek, there isn't anything wrong with the tires. I felt a shimmy on the road, so I wanted to check the pressure to be sure."
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Walter continued to look up at Alex where he stood.
"Agent, would you mind taking a step back so I can stand up?" Walter asked, with clips measured tones.
"Uh...yeah...sure, no problem, Sir." Alex scrambled back two or three steps and watched as Walter attempted to stand up. Alex thought to himself, oh God I should help him up. He took a step toward Walter, bending and holding one hand out to offer him help. Not gauging Walter's agility, in what could be called an excellent reenactment of a classic slapstick moment, both men smacked foreheads against each other.
"Christ, I'm so sorry!" Alex exclaimed, but stood back to let Walter stand by himself. Walter put a hand to his four head, then looked at the hand to check for blood.
"Well, I guess we got the awkward moment out of the way. What say we use this time to gather ourselves, and then once we get to the stadium we can start fresh. Use the silence of the drive there to think about what you'd like to say later on."
Alex just nodded dumbly. He was on autopilot as he walked around the car to the door and got into the front seat. Walter slid in beside him and began to pull the seat belt around him. He looked over at Alex who sat stock still. "You can store your bag in the back seat." Alex looked over at the man who just spoke as if he were speaking that a foreign language. Walter just tilted his head to one side and cocked an eyebrow up as if questioning why Alex was just still sitting there.
"Oh! Yeah, right, back seat. Thanks!" Alex turned and gently placed his backpack on the floor behind his seat and took a moment to look around the truck. It was as neat as a pin as if Walter had just vacuumed this vehicle before coming to meet him. Walter turned on DC 101 which was the local classic rock station and true to his word the ride to the stadium was silent. Alex was eternally grateful. But there was nothing in his head when they parked for him to discuss with Walter.
"So are you going to give me my ticket to hand to the agent myself or is this a date and you will hand the ticket and for me?" Walter asked with a gentle smile.
Alex looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and reached into his pocket for the tickets. He handed one to Walter and looked down at his own, making sure he had his own seat. He was superstitious and the Skins had lost both times he didn't sit in the seat he wanted. But, this time, it didn't matter. Walter could sit wherever he wanted.
They walked in and made their way to their seats, Alex checking for the coffee kiosks. It was going to be a fairly warm day, but he loved a hot cup of coffee just before a game. "Sir, can I offer you a cup of coffee? There's a Starbucks kiosk over there," and Alex pointed it out, "and I usually have a cup before a game."
"That sounds great, Alex, thanks. And...while we're here, being friendly, please call me Walter. The 'Sir' unnerves me while I'm wearing jeans and a leather jacket." Alex looked over his boss' attire and wanted to comment on just how great those jeans and jacket looked, but thought better of it.
"You take your coffee straight black, right?" Alex asked.
"Yes, how did you know?" Walter asked.
Alex just sighed and said, "Please don't ask, si...Walter. I just know these things."
Alex walked to the kiosk and got two venti bold black coffees for them. As he walked back, he just looked at his boss, sitting there, waiting patiently for Alex to return. God, Walter could keep the money for the ticket. It would be the perfect day. Football with his boss, with his crush...with his beloved. Oh, if he died on the way home, his life would be complete: becoming a full fledged FBI agent and going on a date with his true love.
By the time the game started, Alex and Walter were happily engaged in small talk about both teams, which soon became a battle of statistics and tactics, two generals defending their armies, trying to show dominance over the other. Alex couldn't deny that he was getting turned on.
At half time, both men were very hungry and went for food at the snack bars. Both men had burgers and fries, both men had beers. Alex marveled at how alike they were. They followed the same types of players, both like American league baseball over National league, they both liked imported beer, preferably stout, and they both loved being in the FBI, although they stopped all talk about work.
"Sorry, Alex, when I'm at a football game, no shop talk. It will make for a better day for both of us."
"Yes sir... uh, sorry, Walter."
"You'll get used to it. Now get us to more beers before the second half starts."
"Yes sir!"
Walter gave Alex a very cross look. "Hey, I would say that to anyone of my friends that gave me a direct order."
Alex gave Walter broad smile, before making his way to get to more stout ales. The second half had started by the time he reached the seats, but nothing significant had happened in the time he was away. As the second half progressed, Alex noticed that Walter was getting a bit more physical with him. When the Skins would turn a good play, he got a playful shove on the shoulder. When Dallas scored, he got a squeeze on the neck and a strong, playful shake.
It was almost frightening, but it was refreshing to be physical with someone, playful, and not have it as a sexual overture on a dance floor. He couldn't do this with Brodie, who knew Alex was gay. Brodie always tightened up a little around Alex, even though Alex told Brodie that it would never happen between them. Alex didn't fancy Brodie even a little.
By the end of the game, after a stunning win by Dallas, Alex was almost glazed-over happy. I was an incredible day, filled with a camaraderie that Alex hadn't known since he was a kid. He had a football buddy. Hopefully this wouldn't be the only game they could go to together.
"Alex, I can't remember when I had a better time at a football game," Walter said, as they were making their way back to the SUV.
"Me too, Walter. Thanks for taking my ticket." Alex immediately regretted what he said. Holy shit, how did he deal with the money issue? He couldn't ask his boss for cash...oh God, where did he go from here?
"You know, I have a question about that," Walter asked, as they locked themselves in the truck and secured their seat belts.
"Uh, sure...yeah?" Alex was flummoxed.
"You said your buddy flaked out on you a few times. Do would you sell me his left over tickets? I may not be the biggest Redskins fan..."
"Yes, of course!" Alex blurted out, cutting off Walter's explanation. Alex realized just how excited and silly he sounded and tried to compose his features as best he could. "Uh, sorry, um yeah. Sure, cuz, uh, anything's gotta be better than Brodie bailing on me all the time."
Alex looked away out the side window, trying to compose his features. What a stupid thing to say! Could he finally get his foot out of his mouth?
"I firmly understand. Monday, let me know what I'll owe you for the remainder of the tickets and I'll write a check. Now, are you hungry?"
Alex thought about it for a moment. Yeah, he was kinda hungry. He was mortified at his behavior, but hungry. "I could eat, yeah."
"Good, I need some real food. There's a road house down outside Alexandria, where I live in Crystal City. They get this...I don't know where they get it from, but they get the most delicious steaks and whatever Ruby does to them, you have to try it."
And so they went to the road house, Ruby's Table, and Ruby came out to make a fuss over "Walt's little brother".
"No, Ruby, this is my agent, Alex Krycek. He works...well, technically, now you work for me."
"Well, isn't that nice!" Ruby said. Skin as dark as any woman he'd ever seen, Alex loved how soft her hands were on his face as she held his cheeks, the way his grandmother would have. "Boy, you need you some protein. You vegetarian, or some foolishness like that?"
"No...I...no, ma'am. I just...I sit a lot. So I tend to eat...little."
"Baby, you need you some greens. You come to Mama Ruby, I'll fix you up good." She waddled back into the kitchen to start their meal. Alex looked back at her, then turned back to Walter.
"Wait, we didn't order!" Alex said, a bit annoyed with himself.
"Doesn't matter," Walter said. "She'll make what she wants for us to eat. Trust me, you'll love it."
Alex smiled and sat back. Two tall, frosty beers made their way to the table via a small, tight, muscular girl, head full of cornrow braids and shorts that barely covered her well-rounded fanny. She smiled down at Alex, and Alex politely smiled back. Ruby came back out carrying a tray and said, "Don't you look at my grandbaby like that, little man. I'll slap the taste out your mouth."
She put down plates full of food in front of both men. Alex was transfixed by the plate with a huge steak, covered in breading, topped with gravy so thick it didn't drip, it crawled. The flecks of spices speckled the mound of creamy mashed potatoes, promising more than just the haute cuisine roasted garlic.
"Christ, I'm going to have to spend three hours on the treadmill after this meal," Alex said, then he inhaled the aroma deeply. Memories of his youth, his mother's heavy eastern European cooking, filling and comforting, all rolled in his head, making his hand move on its own to take the fork and start with the potatoes, then the greens, then he took up a knife to start cutting into the steak.
Both men ate with gusto, guzzling pitchers of beer down with their plates of food. They ended up in the bar area, with huge glasses of water, watching yet another football game, when Alex looked at his watch.
"Walter, oh my God! It's ten thirty! We need to get on the road, I'm never going to get up for work in the morning!" Alex began to stand, but soon found himself wobbling. Walter came up quickly behind him and caught him about the waist. Alex turned and looked up into Walter's face, smiling. "Sorry, boss, I'm a little clumsy, tonight."
Walter smiled down and said, "I'm glad you're not driving."
Ruby came shuffling out of the kitchen and looked down at the scene. "Are you boys good to drive?"
"Yes, ma'am," Walter said. "I'm fit, I'll make sure Alex gets home safely."
"If I hear of a wreck, you know I'm comin' to your bedside. And not the graveyard." Walter nodded. He did feel fine, able to drive. He didn't feel the dizziness that he usually associated with intoxication.
So, whacha think?