Fic: The West Coast (X-Files, Mulder/Krycek, 340 words, FRM)
Title: The West Coast
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Rating: FRM for naughty words and mentions of m/m interaction.
Spoilers: Minor one for "Drive"
Keywords: Mulder/Krycek, slash
Disclaimer: ¡Qué lástima! Mulder and Krycek don't belong to me. Neither do Scully, Skinner, or Kersh, but I'm not as upset about that.
Summary: I'm sick of the scenery this season. California is just so ugly. (And I lived there for 18 years, so I have a right to say that.) This is what Mulder might think about it.
Author's Note: The interrupting thoughts in // are a device that Te uses and love, so I decided to try it. I can't use them as well as she can, but that's why she's the queen slash goddess and I am a mere supplicant at the altar of Te.
He was sick of these West Coast cases. Sick of all the brown. All the death surrounding him. There wasn't any green to remind him of Al--
//No.//
He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about that. Wouldn't think about the deep pools of green in which he used to see anger, lust, and lo--
//*No*.//
He wouldn't think about it. He just had to get through this case. Then he could go back to the East Coast. Maybe he could take some time off. That would shake Scully up. He might even be able to confuse the hell out of Kersh. Mulder sneered as he thought the name. Kersh. Skinner used to fight with them about their expenses, but he usually let them get away with whatever they needed to do. He really was a good guy in his own, tight-assed, ex-Marine way. He could go to the house on the Vineyard. He'd been meaning to do something about that house. And maybe Alex would hear about it and--
//Stop that.//
It wouldn't be the same even if he did. He would just have to be content with his memories. The roughness Alex had used when he fucked him, the gentleness as he was cradled against that beautiful chest.
//Dammit.//
The vodka wasn't helping. Wasn't making things stop. He'd been drinking it straight. The way Alex always drank it. He could tell how drunk he was by the fact that he didn't even shy away from the pain of the thought of Alex. If only he were here . . . But he wasn't. Maybe he'd be there. On the Vineyard. If only there were some way for Mulder to be sure he'd find out. But maybe Mulder's voluntary vacationing would be strange enough to catch everyone's attention and Alex--
//*My* Alex.//
He'd come to see him. To take away the hurt. To fuck him into oblivion. To drive him crazy with that obstinate sweetness. To make everything stop hurting. Alex could heal him. He knew that. If only Alex would be there.
**********
The End.
**********
The Gulf Coast
Author: Ruth Sadelle Alderson
Rating: FRM for naughty words and mentions of m/m interaction.
Spoilers: Minor one for "Drive"
Keywords: Mulder/Krycek, slash
Disclaimer: ¡Qué lástima! Mulder and Krycek don't belong to me. Neither do Scully, Skinner, or Kersh, but I'm not as upset about that.
Summary: I'm sick of the scenery this season. California is just so ugly. (And I lived there for 18 years, so I have a right to say that.) This is what Mulder might think about it.
Author's Note: The interrupting thoughts in // are a device that Te uses and love, so I decided to try it. I can't use them as well as she can, but that's why she's the queen slash goddess and I am a mere supplicant at the altar of Te.
He was sick of these West Coast cases. Sick of all the brown. All the death surrounding him. There wasn't any green to remind him of Al--
//No.//
He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about that. Wouldn't think about the deep pools of green in which he used to see anger, lust, and lo--
//*No*.//
He wouldn't think about it. He just had to get through this case. Then he could go back to the East Coast. Maybe he could take some time off. That would shake Scully up. He might even be able to confuse the hell out of Kersh. Mulder sneered as he thought the name. Kersh. Skinner used to fight with them about their expenses, but he usually let them get away with whatever they needed to do. He really was a good guy in his own, tight-assed, ex-Marine way. He could go to the house on the Vineyard. He'd been meaning to do something about that house. And maybe Alex would hear about it and--
//Stop that.//
It wouldn't be the same even if he did. He would just have to be content with his memories. The roughness Alex had used when he fucked him, the gentleness as he was cradled against that beautiful chest.
//Dammit.//
The vodka wasn't helping. Wasn't making things stop. He'd been drinking it straight. The way Alex always drank it. He could tell how drunk he was by the fact that he didn't even shy away from the pain of the thought of Alex. If only he were here . . . But he wasn't. Maybe he'd be there. On the Vineyard. If only there were some way for Mulder to be sure he'd find out. But maybe Mulder's voluntary vacationing would be strange enough to catch everyone's attention and Alex--
//*My* Alex.//
He'd come to see him. To take away the hurt. To fuck him into oblivion. To drive him crazy with that obstinate sweetness. To make everything stop hurting. Alex could heal him. He knew that. If only Alex would be there.
**********
The End.
**********
The Gulf Coast