Gender Bender
by Cappuccino

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Rated: R.
Part: 1/2.
Feedback: fluffontop@hotmail.com

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know if "bender" means the same in American as in 
English, but just in case, it means a long drinking session, okay.
Thanks to Black Coffee for Beta.

Spoilers: Only for the fact that Mulder and Krycek used to be partners, but 
I think I can take my chances on that one. Minor ones for Requiem, Tunguska, 
Piper Maru an Apocrypha as well.

Disclaimers: Not mine, belongs to CC. Fox and Ten Thirteen, yada, yada, 
yada.

I
Alex had almost dropped his cup of complementary coffee when they had told 
him.
"Mulder's straight," was all he had been able to think of replying.
Sure, he had expected to hear a lot of things on this meeting, but that 
particular suggestion had still taken him by surprise.
"Well," the smug cigarette-smoking bastard had leaned back and peered at him 
calmly, "I am sure you are just the man to change that."
There had been an insult in there somewhere, he had been sure, and he had 
tried to meet the level gaze, communicate back what a completely fucked up 
idea this was. The old man Spender had only tilted his head to one side and 
waited. Challenging Alex to argue. He had seen and understood and, biting 
his lip to stop himself from making a face, he had only sighed and shook his 
head.
"It's not going to work."
Spender had not even given him an inch.
"I have faith in you, Alex."
Alex would have laughed if he didn't know what lay behind those innocent 
words.
//Yeah, you have faith that I know exactly how much is at stake here//. He 
had no doubt he was not going to last very much longer if he did not comply, 
but he didn't allow his feelings to show, didn't want to give the old 
bastard the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. He would have to take a very 
humbling outlook on life to sail through his ascent in this group, for that 
he was more than prepared, but there was no need to go nuts.
He had made a casual gesture, hid his concern. His disgust.
"I'll try my best," he had said.
"I know you will Alex."

//I know you will, Alex//. The words rang in his ear even now as he was 
standing in front of the mirror, trying to make his tie even, and cursing a 
constant stream of profanities under his breath. He needed to swear. It took 
the edges off, and made the thundercloud moving in over his mind less 
consuming. It was a skill he had had to learn as he started working for the 
Consortium; to not let his explosive temper get the better of him, and it 
was a skill he was learning to master almost perfectly. Well, he had got a 
lot of practise lately, the more he got involved with 'the cause'. Man, but 
those old men could send him to the very end of his tether. And this last 
plan was just too much. "Seduce Mulder", they had told him. "You need to be 
more to him, get closer." And then the unspoken threat of what would happen 
if he didn't agree.
Lucky for them he was exercising this uncharacteristic self-control, not to 
mention unabashed grovelling. Very lucky.
The payback would be sweet, though.
He made a face at himself in the mirror and pulled at the ugly tie, which he 
had chosen carefully because it had just the right touch of 'seriously 
clueless' with 'seriously no threat'. Well, that was all going to go to hell 
now. All his hard work on getting close to the FBI agent the Consortium had 
such a complicated ambiguity to, it would all be ruined if he did what they 
had ordered him to do.
The tie made a distinct organic sound, and ended up on the other side of the 
room.
It was not that the thought of seducing him scared Alex. When he had taken 
the old man Spender up on his offer he had realised there would be some 
extreme things asked of him, and sure, he was willing to go that bit extra 
to prove himself, to gain access. He had prepared himself for some low 
moments, some running errands and being called 'boy'. It was a fair price to 
pay for getting in. Everyone had to start somewhere, and they better all 
enjoy him while they were able to order him around.
Granted, prostituting himself had not been on his list of expectations, but 
what the fuck, it was not like he hadn't done worse things. It might be the 
first cock he would suck for his career, and perhaps not his last one, but 
it didn't scare him.
It was just not what he had planned.
Besides, it wouldn't work anyway.
//He'll see straight through it. It doesn't fit into my character. It'll 
blow my cover.//
He stopped suddenly, as he realised he had not incorporated the notion that 
Mulder would simply say no into his list of what would go wrong. Why, he 
didn't know. He had said himself that Mulder was straight, although 
admittedly straight' might be too rigid a word for such a fluid person as 
Fox Mulder.
"Yeah, he probably takes it every which way he can get it." Alex snorted his 
disgust at such an unabashed lack of principles.
And control. Well, that came without saying.
On the way to work he thought about the best way of going about it. What 
would seem plausible, what would fit in with the character he had already 
worked so hard to establish.
Should he tell Mulder straight out and let him do the actual sexual 
initiation, or should he simply start throwing starry eyed looks and 
love-charged hints his way and pretend to be scared and nervous when the 
other man confronted him with it?
As he got on the highway and into the usual morning queue, he noticed that 
as he actually started thinking practically about what he was about to do, 
he had tensed up and his fingers gripped the steering wheel harder than 
really necessary.
In Alex's book, bodily reflexes were there to overcome, and he frowned as he 
mulled over the unwanted response. If he reacted that way just thinking 
about it...
//Okay, getting all nervous is not going to make it any easier. Just 
concentrate on the task.//
But it took all his effort just to force his shoulders to drop and fingers 
to release, and by the time he got to the FBI Headquarters he did not have 
any more ideas than when he left.
As he rode the elevator down to the basement, he caught a glimpse of his own 
tense face in the metal doors, and grimaced. He was feeling nervous, self 
conscious, and fidgeting with the end of his jacket like some nervous school 
boy. He was not used to behaving so...unprofessionally.
//What the hell is the matter with you? Just go in there and do your job.//
He took a deep breath and opened the door to Mulder's office.
"Good morning."
The sandy-brown haired man did not even look up.
"Yeah. Krycek, would you have a look at these for me. Tell me what you see."
Alex found himself pulling a little on his shirt as he moved over to where 
Mulder was sitting to lean over him.
"I see a blurry photo of a hill." The faint scent of Mulder's hair suddenly 
had him surrounded and he reached for the damn tie again, irritated at 
himself for doing so. "Why? What do you see?"
The other agent turned his face towards him and suddenly they were only
inches apart and there was definitely something wrong with the air in the
room, and their lips must be closer than they'd ever been before, close
enough to... Before Alex knew what he was doing he had straightened up and
out of Mulder's personal zone, only then finally able to breathe properly
again.
Once he realised what he had done, he blinked surprised at himself.
//What the fuck was that?//
Noticing his hands were clammy, he fisted them and staved off an urge to 
slam them against his knee.
//Get yourself together. Now.//
If Mulder had noticed anything he did not let it on.
"I see something moving," he said, putting the photo down on the table 
again. "Going somewhere. Pick up or deliver."
Alex managed a very convincing frown.
"What are you talking about?"
There was more to the slight shiver in his voice than mere surprise It was 
no good. He needed a plan. Could not work without a plan. Needed a 
well-structured idea that he could follow, one that would not allow for any 
mistakes. Turning to face the man he noticed Mulder had loosened his tie. It 
might not be the most thrilling striptease Alex had ever seen, but knowing 
Mulder the short while he had, it was pretty significant. He focused on the 
tie and was suddenly side-tracked by the thought of Mulder's body 
underneath. It was a body which he was now supposed to be turned on by now, 
one which was pretty nice, well, at least in comparison to the limited 
number of bodies Alex had had the opportunity to look at. It was also a body 
which his character would want to look at, touch and perhaps even lick.
"- tion sites."
He realised Mulder was looking at him expectantly.
"Eh, sorry, what was that?"
Mulder gave him one of those looks, the ones that always made him smile a 
little, but didn't usually make him have to swallow thickly.
He swallowed thickly.
"I asked you how much you know about alien abduction-sites."
"Eh, not much." //Just about every location of every past, present and 
future sites and pretty much who will be abducted.// He managed a 
dumb-founded look. "You...you think it's...alien?"
He got a short nod, and felt himself able to breathe again as the 
penetrating eyes left his.
"Well, I am going to go up there." Mulder got up and grabbed his jacket. And 
then, just as he swept by him, the off-hand question. "Want to come?"
Alex's hands went up to his tie again. Otherwise his "sure", would have been 
almost equally casual. Almost.

They had spent exactly nine hours together, and still Alex had not managed 
to find a single opportunity that seemed suitable for Operation Seduction to 
commence. Having decided that the hints-approach would be the one working 
best in accordance with his character development, was about as far as he 
had got. They had sat quietly in the car, listening to cheesy country 
love-songs and he had attempted a long, smouldering look, but Mulder had not 
seemed to notice. Eating lunch at a small roadside diner, he had taken up a 
thread of being lonely and finding it hard to meet people - hoping Mulder 
would pick up on the missing pronoun - but Mulder had been deeply immersed 
in the folder he had brought and only grunted something affirmative that 
probably meant he wasn't listening. As the day turned into late afternoon, 
and after three accidental thigh touches, three mentions of gay clubs in the 
Washington area and even a "I like this singer, he looks so good on the 
album cover, don't you think?", Alex had started to wonder if Mulder might 
not be a bit too dense for subtlety.
He looked out the window, feeling one of his explosive tempers coming on, 
and decided that he should turn to a more direct strategy, both for his own 
a well as Mulder's continuing health. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at 
the hazel eyes meeting his own. Here we go.
"Mulder."
"What?"
"Ehrm, there is something I think you should know." Okay, once more with 
feeling. He cleared his throat slightly. "I just think that you should know 
how I feel about you, me...us."
He made an inner grimace. It sounded too much like cliché, too thought out. 
He was trying too hard. "Don't worry," he continued, holding up one hand to 
stop Mulder's response. "I don't mean to push you or anything, I just mean, 
you have me wondering."
Cool detachment. Much better.
In the driver seat, Mulder was silent, a small frown on his forehead, but 
still quite calm.
"I see," he said then. There was a short pause. "So that's what you wanted 
to talk to me about?"
There was no real emotion in his voice and for a few seconds Alex could 
think of absolutely nothing to say.
"Uhm," his hands were on that damned tie again, and he squirmed, irritated 
both with himself and Mulder. "Yeah, well, I don't know. I guess I'm just a 
bit confused," he said finally.
Oh, hell, another cliché. He should have done some more reading on this, not 
just quote every line from every Gay Melodrama.
Mulder, however, only nodded.
"Okay."
And went back to watching the road.
Having expected more of a reaction right there, Alex just blinked for a few 
moments, unable to think of anything else to say. He had hoped to simply 
have to hand the ball over to Mulder and just lie back watching things 
unfold in either direction. He had figured it would be a bit more of a big 
deal for Mulder. Did the man have young agents come out to him every day or 
something? Had the scenario been real, Alex would have been quite insulted. 
As it was, he felt the previous nervousness being replaced by irritation.
"Okay, then."
He went quiet, looking out the window again and waiting for the silence to 
force a response out of the man next to him.
It didn't.

When they pulled into the Bureau's garage Alex was seething. No more 
mentions of inappropriate feelings. No reaction either way, and once inside 
Mulder only gave him an absent-minded pat on the shoulder.
"I have a lot to do now, but thanks for your help."
//Thanks? You're thanking me? For what, not getting my dick out and jerking 
off all over the car?//
Exasperated, Alex decided to throw caution to the wind and followed him. He 
caught him in his office already hard at work, of course, and probably not 
even remembering their little exchange in the car.
He decided to try a bit more hands on tactic. The man was an academic after 
all, maybe he needed more obvious signals to break through his 
concentration.
Swallowing his earlier nervousness, he perched on the desk, put his hand 
within Mulder's vision and even leaned back a little.
"Mulder, there is something I want to talk to you about."
The other man hardly looked up from the photo in his hands.
"Mm."
Alex counted slowly to ten, then he decided what he needed to do was turn 
the conversation more interactive, he formed the next sentence as a 
question.
"I just want to know how you feel about it?"
"About what?" His voice was soft, but betrayed no feelings and Alex wondered 
irritated if there was a class at Quantico that he had missed.
"About what we were talking about in the car."
Mulder looked up then, one eyebrow arched questioningly.
"That you're gay?"
So he had been listening then. Apparently not got the implications, though.
"Well...yeah. For starters."
Mulder nodded. "I think that's fine." And went back to studying his photos.
Alex managed to swallow his approaching angry outburst. God, it was like 
pulling teeth, getting an answer out of Mulder. He made one more attempt.
"And how do you feel about...us?"
Finally a bit of a stir.
"Us?"
"Yeah, us."
//Come on, you fucker, put me out of my misery.//
"I think," Mulder's gaze did not falter from Alex's, his eyes open and warm, 
but his expression calm, "that we can be friends."
Alex held his eyes for what felt like a very, very long time, but when the 
other man made no inclination to move, he decided he had used up all his 
patience for that evening.
"Alright then," he knew he snapped it in a way that Mulder was bound to 
notice and that was completely out of character, but then again this whole 
fucking stunt had been out of character, and if that did not bother the old 
bastards in the Consortium then it didn't bother him either.
He exited the office, frustrated, irritated and about to put his fist 
through something.
He decided there was only one thing for it.

Staring at the way the golden hue of the whiskey reflected the dim lightning 
in the bar and feeling the familiar mushy feeling take form behind his ears, 
Alex realised something. Alcohol lowered inhibitions. Albeit this 
information was nothing new per se, he had never thought about in the 
context of sex before. He had never had any reason too. Sexually, he had 
always been the aggressive type, getting off on the buzz of the risky, seedy 
sides of sex almost as much as the act itself.
Now, as the edges of his vision were starting to blur, and things seemed a 
bit less frustrating and a bit more humorous, he realised something.
He could think of seducing Mulder without reaching for his tie.
He was not gay and he did not fancy Mulder, still he could think about what 
he was supposed to do to him and feel a bit... thrilled. He like challenges, 
always had. Got off on them. Maybe he had been going about this the wrong 
way. He had himself already decided that it was a stupid idea that would 
ruin his undercover assignment no matter what, so then why did he creep 
around thinking he should stay in character? What he ought to do was go over 
there and get it over with as fast as possible. Like ripping of a bandage. 
Quick and painful. One shot and he could go on with the rest of his working 
life. It was the only way to do it.
Quick and painful. Oh, shit.
//No, don't get like that again. Don't think. It's only about the results.//
Sweeping the rest of the whiskey, he stood up, grabbed his jacket and 
unsteadily but determinedly exited the bar.
The cab-ride was a bit of a blur, as was the brown door he was standing in 
front of and hammering on loudly with his fist.
"Mulder! Open up!"
The hard, tough FBI-agent that opened the door was dressed in jeans and a 
rumpled T-shirt and had hair that stood out in all directions and unfocused, 
tired eyes. Just like the other FBI-agent in front of him, although for 
completely different reasons.
"Alex, shit, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing here?"
His voice was cottoned and drowsy, almost a whisper. It felt like teasing 
feathers on Alex itchy nerves.
"Can I come in?" He said it loud enough to be inappropriate for this time of 
night. And with this amount of neighbours. He didn't want to give Mulder a 
choice.
Mulder blinked a couple of times, then looked quickly behind Alex at the so 
far empty hallway, and then he sighed.
"Yeah, sure, why don't you." He held the door open and Alex made a show of 
pressing against him when he moved past him and into the warm apartment.
"Oops, thanks, Mulder, s'preciate it."
He could feel the other man flinch slightly as their bodies made contact, 
and he tried to interpret the signal. Was it resenting or relishing the 
touch? Which direction was it appearing to be heading? To a fight or a fu... 
Nerves suddenly got the better of him, and he took a few unsteady steps away 
from the enclosed hallway.
"You're drunk," Mulder said simply and Alex didn't see there was much he 
could say to that so he just nodded.
"Yes, quite."
There was a silence and he could feel Mulder's penetrative looks as they 
bore into his back, reminding him that he was actually a lot less drunk then 
he pretended - and by now wished - he were.
Trying to avoid looking directly at the other man still standing quietly 
over by the door, he looked around in the apartment. Nice, but not homely. 
Warm, but not cosy. He snorted to himself. Like he knew anything about stuff 
like that.
"Nice place," he said anyway as he sat down heavily on a chair. He had 
contemplated the couch, but somehow it felt a bit daunting. In time, he 
would move over there. When he knew where he had Mulder. Not before he was 
sure he had the situation under control. So the chair it was.
"Is something wrong, Alex?"
Mulder was looking questioningly but undeniably friendly at him. And the 
name, Alex, he had just started calling him that. Just the day before or so. 
Did they know that? Was that why they chose this particular moment to 
forward things? The thought made him cold, in more than one way.
Being there, in the dark but warm apartment, finally about to do it, Alex 
felt a bit less bold than he had thought he would. Somehow he had figured 
that five straight shots of whiskey would make this easy. Drink, go there, 
jump Mulder's bones, close his eyes and watch himself climb another step on 
the ladder to where he wanted to end up.
Yeah, he had figured it be a bit of a more rush by now. Like the first time 
he had to hurt someone. He had been nervous and sick and wondered what he 
was doing, then precisely that feeling of doing it anyway had pushed some 
button within him and the adrenaline and mental rush had been unreal. 
Soul-cleansing, somehow, sorting out his own head, finding out what a 
son-of-a-bitch he really was. Getting in touch with his inner dark child. 
Oh, yeah.
But for some reason, now, in Mulder's apartment, about to drop his pants and 
basically sell his ass, the lurid adrenaline alluded him. He only felt 
scared, a bit dizzy and frankly a bit shy.
//Come on, you fucker. Sonofabitch, just fucking get it together.//
He took a deep breath and looked over at the door. Mulder was still 
regarding him quietly, and his eyes burned Alex's face. Forcing himself to 
ignore the slight shiver that went through him, he even managed to let his 
gaze travel suggestively over the other man's body.
"I think you know why I'm here." //If you don't then I want to know what 
pills you're taking.//
He waited. Tilted his head, licked his lips and waited. Mulder met his gaze 
for a few moments, then he sighed and nodded.
"I guess I do." He didn't make any inclination to near him, however, only 
made a small gesture and said; "I'll make you some coffee, shall I?"
And that was it. It was out in the open, and Alex found that he could 
suddenly hear his own heartbeats pulsating in his ears. //Jesus! Is this 
really me?// He found also that he was still alone on this side of the 
living room, and that Mulder had simply turned and disappeared into the 
kitchen.
"Okay," he shouted after him, and his voice cracked a tiny bit, possibly 
from the alcohol, but also possibly from something else.
"Milk?"
//What the fuck?//
"Eh, no...thanks."
When Mulder returned with the coffee, Alex pounced. The first touch of lips
against lips was weird, hard and awkward, so Alex decided that all careful
manipulation plans be damned and threw himself headfirst into it. He parted
his lips and pressed his tongue inside the other man's mouth with no regard
to the startled moan breathed back into his own. It felt good to do
something, not just sit and wring his hands and worry, so he decided to keep
up the strategy. Without breaking the lip-lock, he let his hand trail down
to the top of Mulder's jeans, and although unable to stop his hand from
shaking, he soon had the top button opened. Mulder let out a surprised gasp
as fingers moved down his zipper, and Alex took the opportunity to press his
mouth to the older man's ear. "Let's do it," he whispered, trying to make
his voice husky and sexy. The body over his stiffened, and Mulder's voice
was a frown as he tried to push away. "What?" "No strings attached. Just
sex. Hot...hard..." He bit playfully in one earlobe, and emphasised each
word by pressing his groin against the other man's hips.
"...sex."
"Alex..."
"It will be great, I promise."
"You promise?"
Somewhere in the alcohol haze Alex did register the warning tone in his 
voice. That and, also, Mulder was way too calm and collected for someone 
being so obviously seduced, but he kept on anyway, wriggling one hand free 
and placing it between the other man's legs. Mulder was hard. But he was not 
very hard.
"I want you right now?"
Mulder was quiet for a while, watching Alex intently and then he suddenly 
grabbed him by the shoulders, clenching them so hard it hurt.
"Alright, let's do it. Why don't you start by giving me a blow job?"
He pushed Alex roughly to his knees, holding his shoulder firmly with one 
hand and unbuttoning his fly with the other. Shock managed to break through 
the whiskey in his blood and Alex felt a bit less confident suddenly, as he 
hesitantly moved his hands up to fit over the other man's.
"Oh, okay."
Mulder raised one eyebrow and nodded.
"Yeah? And then perhaps you could let me come in your mouth as well. I love 
that, you know."
"Oh."
He felt confused, the words too fast for his spinning head. When he 
hesitated Mulder grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up closer, his eyes 
dangerous and his voice low and angry as he spoke again.
"Exactly what part of you, raving drunk, letting me do things you'd be too 
out of it to enjoy and then regret or not remember, do you think turns me 
on?"
Alex couldn't get his head together enough to be able to formulate an answer 
to that and Mulder shook him again, harder.
"What? Gee, Alex, it's nice to know you have such a high opinion of me."
Not understanding what Mulder was saying, Alex could only wince at the 
shaking.
"Mulder, please, I..."
"What was that? I couldn't hear."
"I feel dizzy."
"Right! Well, that can be fixed."
Before Alex have time to react he was dragged into the kitchen and taking 
little care Mulder turned on the tap and forced his head under it. The ice 
cold water made him jump, but Mulder held him firmly under as he struggled 
and spit and cursed, until he apparently thought Alex had got enough and 
released him. When Alex re-emerge he handed him a kitchen towel and then he 
just stood with his hands crossed over his chest and looked at him.
"Now, go home."
Alex knew that was not a good thing, so he decided to protest. "No, please. 
Let's...I..."
Seeming to have anticipated that Mulder just nodded. "Okay, you can sleep in 
the bed then."
And before Alex knew it, he was finally in Mulder's bed. Only he was in 
there alone.

Alex woke up to a throbbing headache, the smell of pancakes from the kitchen 
and surprise at the fact that it was well past noon.
As he staggered up, Mulder greeted him cheerfully in the kitchen.
"Morning."
He offered him a plate stacked with pancakes and Alex took it, hesitantly 
but hungrily, and then there was a silence as Mulder puttered around the 
kitchen and Alex chewed and watched him.
"Mulder," he said finally getting that Mulder was not going to bring it up, 
"listen, about last night..."
"Don't worry about it."
"But I want to explain..."
"Some other time, okay. Let's just eat."
There was a finality in Mulder's voice that Alex didn't want to argue with. 
He looked down on his plate and ate is pancakes and wondered how he had got 
into this situation and how he would get out of it with his dignity. He 
decided he probably couldn't.
When breakfast was finished, Alex wondered if he ought to leave. He realised 
the night before had been a definite bad move, and that he probably had to 
face the fact that he had not managed 'the task', and now he had new 
problems.
Staying alive, for example.
He wasn't sure what the Consortium would do once they realised his limited 
usefulness in the Mulder department from now on, but he was sure it was not 
going to get him upwards on the ladder anyway. It would possibly even get 
him further down then he was able to climb back up from. It might possibly 
make him dead.
"Alex."
It took a few moments for the soft word and the source of the equally soft 
voice to register. Then he looked up and saw Mulder standing by the fridge 
looking at him. He was holding out a glass of milk, and had probably been 
doing so for a while. Alex smiled in what he hoped was a bashful way.
"No, thanks."
"Go on, it's good with pancakes and hangover."
He actually smiled for real then.
"Not as good as coffee."
"Now that is no way to live past thirty."
It was funny, considering his situation. He could probably drink all the 
milk in the world and still not be able to guarantee living past thirty. He 
felt a strange warmth suddenly as he accepted the glass.
"Okay, I'll have a sip."
"Do you want to stay for a while?"
The sip didn't reach his stomach but followed the gulp of air he couldn't 
help taking, and ended up in his left lung instead. Mulder caught the glass 
before it hit the tiles, and watched Alex coughing fit with a frown.
"You okay?"
"Yes," Alex rasped, and shook his head.
He got a few helpful pats on the middle of the back as he got through the 
attack, at which time they both realised Mulder was behind him and he was 
bending over, which caused Alex to flinch away and Mulder to smile broadly.
Alex realised his mistake when it was too late. The frown on Mulder's 
forehead spoke volumes.
"Sorry," he said and there was sudden ice in his voice. "Didn't mean to 
scare you."
Alex tried to think quickly.
"It's not that, I just didn't think you wanted me to stay because of last 
night and stuff."
"Okay."
But the moment was gone, Mulder was back by the fridge and Alex cursed his 
own reflexes. He had basically had him. And he had screwed up, again.
//You stupid fuck!//
He drew his hand through his hair and couldn't help but let out a deep sigh.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," he said, the sincerity in his voice not completely 
faked. "I know I am acting really weird. It's just so complicated."
"Why?"
//Because I am a bad person, and you are not and I don't really want your 
cock anywhere near me, but I would still let you put it anywhere to get what 
I want. And that is just half of it.//
"Because I have had some bad experiences."
"Oh?" Mulder regarded him for a few moments and then seemed to realise what 
he was hinting at. "Oh."
"Yeah. I didn't mean to put it on you, but...you know. I'm sorry."
Something in Mulder's eyes went soft, and Alex couldn't help but feel 
touched by the gentle concern. He wanted to look away, but forced himself to 
stay focused.
"Anyway, it has nothing to do with you, I promise."
"Want to tell me about it?"
God, he wasn't sure he could do that. He had never been a good story-teller 
and he had no real experiences of gay sex to draw from. But Mulder expected 
something from him, otherwise he would shake his hand and make them go back 
to being nothing more than FBI-agents again. He reached for something, 
anything, and wasn't even sure what he was going to say even as he opened 
his mouth.
"I'm catholic."
Alex felt almost as surprised as Mulder looked as the statement hit air. He 
groaned inwardly. Catholic? He could have said that he had been raped, 
molested as a child, cheated on, bullied at the academy, anything. But no, 
instead he was now a catholic.
He wondered if he should start praying.
By the fridge, Mulder was still looking perplexed but trying hard not to 
show it.
"You are?" was all he seemed to be able to think of replying.
Alex made a twisted grin and nodded.
"Yes. My family is from Poland and I didn't really have a choice."
Great, now he was apparently also a Russian orthodox catholic. Why didn't he 
just go all the way and say he was hoping to be the next pope.
"Well, as you can understand there's just a lot of guilt and...stuff. It's 
just hard to deal with."
To his relief, Mulder finally seemed to have composed himself, because he 
nodded understandingly and there was genuine concern in his voice when he 
spoke again.
"Have you always had problems being gay then?"
Alex silently thanked the psychologist in front of him as he nodded grimly.
"Yes. It always starts out well and then... well, usually I just start 
drinking. As you found out yesterday."
"Does your family know?"
"No." Alex thought about all the foster families he'd had, but he couldn't 
remember any of them being catholic. He went for the safe option. "I don't 
think they do."
"You know, therapy can help with guilt and such."
Alex couldn't help but smile a little. If he told his problems to a shrink 
he would have to kill him afterwards. He suppressed the amusement and looked 
down on the floor.
"I don't know. I'm not sure that would help." When he looked up he knew he 
had the saddest look in his eyes. "Maybe I'll just have to live with it."
Not surprisingly, Mulder couldn't help but melt all over the floor.
"Oh, Alex." He put a soothing hand on his arm, and not too long after Alex 
was pressed against his shirt and he could have cheered because he was 
suddenly back to winning again.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry." He managed a sob, and held on to the other man. 
Mulder stroked his back soothingly.
"It's okay, I understand."
Alex knew it was time, so he lifted his head and looked deep into the hazel 
eyes gazing back into his own.
"But I really, really want you, Mulder."
Then he leaned closer and their lips brushed against each other. Kissing 
while sober is always a much different experience and Alex felt a small 
tingle in his stomach, as he remained still, letting Mulder draw back only 
to repeat the tentative kiss again.
"Alex." The man in his arms said softly, not quite a question, but near 
enough, so Alex answered "it's okay, Mulder, please," and was kissed again.
Longer, with more intensity, and quite overwhelming. He gripped the ledge of 
the counter for support, and hoped Mulder would think it was lust buckling 
his knees. It was weird, but it was not as weird as he had imagined, and 
after so long of thinking about *this* and *him* it was actually a relief to 
finally be doing it.
Alex gripped strands of soft hair and parted his lips even more, feeling 
almost a sense of pride at the groan in reply.
Then, just as he started relaxing, thinking that maybe this was okay, this 
was doable, Mulder pulled away again. He uncurled Alex's fingers from his 
hair and looked him deep in the eyes.
"Want to tell me what is really going on here?"
A cold chill went straight through Alex at the words, making the hair on the 
back of his neck stand up and the beginning of a 
real-actual-couldn't-pretend-a-better-one erection shrink back down again.
"W...what do you mean?" He knew his voice sounded shrill, but couldn't do 
anything about it with Mulder's unnerving gaze so close. "Is something 
wrong?"
"Well, this feels like granite." Mulder squeezed Alex shoulder and gave him 
a meaningful look. "As much of a good sign that would be somewhere else, 
being stiff there usually means you are doing something you are not 
completely comfortable doing."
Fuck people who read people. Who actually care. Alex had wished the heat on 
his cheeks could have dulled at least some of Mulder's perception.
"Why, Mulder," he tried to hide the nervous twitch forming around his mouth 
by smiling and coughing a little. "I am just a bit...I mean, it's you...I am 
just worried that you won't, you know, think I'm any good."
God, he was there in another man's arms blushing and obsessing about how 
good in bed he would be. That Spender man had really got him to steep low 
this time. He better compensate him for this one, or he would show him what 
humiliation really meant.
In front of him Mulder still looked calm, but unmoved.
"I'm sorry," he tried and reached up to pull the agent towards him again, to 
get back on track with what he had started. And he had to admit it wasn't 
solely about his orders anymore.
There was a new thrill in standing in an FBI-agents kitchen trying to make 
him go out of his mind. The press of flesh reminding him of other, less 
gentle deeds. He realised he was starting to get turned on.
So, he would fuck Mulder, so what? He would do it, and he would do it well. 
He would have the man eating out of his hand by the end of the weekend and 
it would just be one more thing to file under things he succeeded at.
Damn, but he was good. The best.
Suddenly he felt energised, wicked and quite horny, actually. He felt the 
other man shift, and held on tighter, groaning into his neck. "I can't 
believe it, Mulder, I have wanted this for so long, you can't imagine."
"Good, then you don't mind waiting another few days, huh?"
He froze.
//What?//
"What?"
"I think we should take it slow."
"Why?"
He looked up from the soft fabric and the accusing look was genuine. Mulder 
met his eyes seriously.
"Because I think you're nice, Alex, but I don't jump into bed with people I 
work with on a whim. This is complicated stuff, we should think about what 
we are about to do. If it's worth it."
"If it's worth it?"
His vanity nerve took a hard blow and he just stared at Mulder, real 
blushing now from silent rage. He didn't know if he was worth it? Who the 
hell did he think he was? With effort he scrambled for the green, vulnerable 
agent inside him and managed a smile perfectly balanced between shyness and 
wanting.
"Okay, I think you're right. Sorry."
"That's okay, Alex." Mulder stroked Alex face gently, but took a step back 
from the counter they were leaning on. "Maybe you should go now and I'll see 
you tomorrow, and perhaps after work we can go somewhere and talk."
Alex fisted his hands and gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
"Sounds good."
They never got to do it. Duane Barry got between them, and Alex told himself 
that the sting of disappointment he felt was because he did not have the 
chance to prove to himself that he could actually get Mulder if he wanted. 
The arrogant bastard did not know what he missed, he told himself and at the 
first opportunity that presented itself he slept with a man. Just to get it 
out of his system. Just to master yet another skill. Just to fuck.
Soon he learned not to dwell on things that were of no importance to 'the 
cause'.
He learned to master that skill even better.

II

Mulder squeezed the cup of coffee he was holding so hard he was surprised it 
didn't shatter in his hand.
"What the hell?" He could only stare in disbelief at the sight that greeted 
him across the other end of the departure hall. Alex Krycek was strolling 
across the floor, perhaps a bit warily, but still inappropriately as if he 
had every right to do so even though he was a murderer and thief who could 
now add international traitor to his list of merits. Leaving Hong Kong, are 
we? Mulder thought bitterly. Figured you had left enough bodies behind? 
Well, there is one less then you think, pal.
He clenched his jaw and put the cup back down without drinking it. He had 
suddenly lost his taste for coffee.
Now all he was thirsting for was Krycek's blood.
The fight was short and sweet. Krycek came up, BAM, he took one to the face, 
BAM, he was up again, challenging as usual and, BAM, Mulder didn't think 
this was the day he would grant Krycek's wish and they were going to do this 
right. That meant get back to D.C., get the tape and go to jail, well, one 
of them at least.
"Go in and clean up. If you are not out in five minutes, I am coming in to 
kill you."
Alex obeyed him, well, he didn't have much choice, and when he came out 
again Mulder had the sweet task of cuffing him and manhandling him to the 
plane leaving for Washington.
On the aeroplane Mulder made up for his deserted cup of coffee and ordered 
three. Admittedly, it was not completely for the taste. It was night time 
and he wanted to keep awake, partly because he didn't trust Krycek wasn't a 
master at picking handcuff-locks, and partly because *he* was awake, hardly 
blinking in fact, and looking...strange.
Usually Krycek's face was a virtual display of emotions, but now he was just 
staring calmly ahead where he sat in the window seat, his face unreadable 
and placid. It made Mulder uncomfortable and he started downing the coffees 
to make sure he stayed awake.
"Why don't you take your chance to sleep?" The words came out a little too 
high-pitched, frantic, and he cringed at the sound. "You know, while you 
don't have a room mate jerking off in the bunk below you." He added for good 
measure.
Krycek turned to him, tilted his head slightly, but didn't answer. Meeting 
his gaze, Mulder felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand out as the 
green eyes fixed on him, dark and intense, burning holes in his skin.
He managed to casually shrug.
"You're choice." He had to actually clear his throat to get the words out. 
"You have nine hours of freedom left, spend them however you want."
Krycek looked about to say something, then just blinked once, twice, and 
then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Mulder breathed out, but still found himself unable to relax. He did not 
know why, but he was feeling very uncomfortable. Something about Krycek was 
very unnerving, what he could not pinpoint exactly. He supposed being a 
fugitive in Hong Kong must affect a man, but there was something more than 
that. Krycek looked haggard, fair enough, and like he had not slept for a 
fortnight, but the psychologist in him was not satisfied that was the whole 
answer. The voice in itself was enough to set off warning bells in his head, 
and he rubbed his hands over his eyes, noticing how sweaty they were. He 
threw a glance at his watch. Eight hours and 20 minutes until landing.
When the stewardess came by he stopped her and asked for a coke, no, make 
that a vodka and coke, no, wait, make that a double. He refused to feel 
guilty. He *deserved* a drink. He was worried about work, he was jet-lagged, 
he had almost been killed, what man would not be a bit edgy. He just needed 
to forget about Krycek, who was after all restrained and apparently resigned 
to his fate, and besides, eight hours was plenty of time to get alcohol out 
of the system enough to be able to drive. The thought of the hour and a half 
drive in the darkness alone with that dark, silent presence next to him, 
made him shudder. He glanced over at the window seat. Krycek was still 
leaning back with his eyes closed, but whether he was asleep or not was hard 
to tell. He estimated how long before Krycek should have nodded off, trying 
to detect the pattern of steady, deep breaths that would indicate sleep. He 
finished his drink, not taking his eyes off the unmoving figure, then 
finally he bent forward and put his ear to Krycek's chest.
"Anything the matter?"
The voice right by his ear made him almost jump out of his own skin. 
Startled he drew back to find the emerald eyes regarding him calmly. It took 
him a few seconds to collect himself, then he made what he attempted to be a 
disapproving frown.
"So you are not asleep then."
"No."
The level gaze didn't change. He swallowed.
"That's what I thought."
"Yes."
Silence ensued, and Mulder itched to grab Krycek's head and bang it against 
the window shouting "talk, you sonofabitch, be mad at me, act like your own 
pathetic self, for fuck's sake." But he restrained himself, and instead 
looked away and gestured to a stewardess.
"Can I have another double vodka and coke," he ordered, and the he had an 
idea. "Do you have any sedatives? He," he indicated to Krycek, "is a bit 
nervous about flying at night." Then he had another thought. "Oh, and 
listen," he lowered his voice and quickly flashed his badge, "could I have a 
double dose?"
She paled slightly and threw a quick look at Krycek, sitting straight up, 
his expression unchanged although he must have heard what was being said, 
and again Mulder had to stave an urge to start pounding a reaction out of 
the triple agent.
Soon the stewardess returned with three small pills, and Mulder handed them 
over with a single order, preparing to have to force them down the 
brown-haired guy's throat, actually looking forward to doing just that, but 
Krycek only looked uninterested at the tablets, then he put them in his 
mouth and swallowed.
"Right, that should have you snoring in no time," he concluded, mostly to 
himself, and then he reached for his drink again. //And I will let a few 
more of these gently guide me to blissful peace of mind, and that will be 
this strange flight over with.// He watched Krycek shrug and lay back again, 
but he didn't close his eyes. Mulder sipped the vodka, and waited. And 
waited. Plenty of time passed and he knew the pills must have started 
working, but Krycek still did not seem any closer to falling asleep. The 
oxygen-thin air and his own tiredness started giving results and he felt a 
familiar feeling forming behind his ears, and when he turned for the 
umpteenth time to check the status of the man beside him, the surrounding 
did not move completely synchronised with his eyes. Good old reliably 
alcohol never let you down, however, he had hoped that Krycek next to him 
would be asleep by the time his own medicine kicked in.
He had a sudden flash of another occasion with the two of them and alcohol. 
He brushed it off irritated. There were a few times when he had wondered 
about that time. Whether it had all been just another part of the deception. 
He was pretty sure that was the case. After all, that was probably why he 
had interrupted it himself that night, his sixth sense telling him there was 
something off about it. He had thanked his lucky star that he had, once the 
betrayal was all revealed, and then he had gone out to sleep with the first 
guy he could. First time in years. Fucked his mind back on track. Laughed in 
the face of the memory of Krycek over the shoulder of the man who's bed he 
had jumped into. It had been the best sex he had ever had.
Then his thoughts were interrupted by a more urgent realisation. He 
seriously had to go to the bathroom. Soon. That's what you get for having 
alcohol on top of coffee, he cursed silently to himself, as he bit his lip 
and tried to decide what to do. As little as he wanted to take Krycek with 
him to the bathroom, he wanted even less to set him free. There were other 
people to think about, after all.
He made his decision and began to stand up, pushing his jumper expectantly 
on to the black denim-clad lap next to him.
"Come on."
Krycek obeyed silently. Not whining, not complaining, not snorting 
arrogantly. Only hid his handcuffed wrists with the jumper and followed 
Mulder to the toilets. It was a big flight, the toilets were located in 
between decks and out of sight, and no one came to protest as Mulder pushed 
in the other man and shut the door behind them.
The small cubicle did not invite modesty, and Mulder steeled himself, as he 
pulled down his zipper and tried to be quick.
He could feel Krycek's body behind him, leaning against the small washbasin 
as best he could, and felt very vulnerable and exposed. Getting drunk had 
seemed like a perfectly good option, but now, faced with Krycek's presence 
he wished he had just a few more sense under control.
"I have one hand on my gun, so don't try anything," he muttered, then 
realised the witty reply he had left himself open for, and sighed, only to 
frown when none came.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he finally said, unable to take it any 
longer. "Why are you suddenly acting like this?"
"What am I acting like?" came the slow, steady voice behind him.
He zipped up again and manoeuvred around to reach the soap and water, and 
suddenly found himself face to face, and uncomfortably close to the man 
pressed against the door behind him. In the dim light his green eyes looked 
deeper and darker than normal as they fixed on his own, and Mulder had to 
catch his breath as he felt a his pulse quickening under the uncomfortable 
scrutiny. Up close, Krycek's unreadable hard face almost scared him. He had 
also never seen him look so beautiful before. Perfect. Too perfect.
He swallowed thickly.
"You haven't hardly said a word the whole trip, you keep staring at me, 
and..." he exhaled to try to get the panicked edge out of his voice, and his 
own breath bouncing off the other man's lips and back on to his own made him 
only too aware of how close they really were.
He moved to back away and froze as the movement made the erection he hadn't 
even noticed he had got, brush against the fabric in his pants, sending 
electric jolts up through his stomach. There was a brief second when he only 
stared down at himself, then he quickly lifted his gaze, but too late. 
Krycek's intense eyes were already fixed on the bulge in his jeans, and when 
he looked up again he had a knowing expression and the slightest hint of a 
smirk around his mouth.
"I see." His voice was a soft breath, and Mulder jerked back as hands 
reached for his face, but the small cubicle allowed for no escape.
"Get off, you fu -" then he gasped as his head was tipped backwards and 
Krycek licked his neck, slowly, slowly, all the way from the base of his 
throat up to his chin. "Jesus."
The hot wet tongue burned against his skin, and for a moment, all Mulder 
could do was clasp the shoulders pressing up against him and hold on as the 
sudden quickening of his heartbeats sent his alcohol-induced blood surging 
through his veins.
Involuntarily, he leaned after the touch of lips as they retreated back 
again, only to forget that and anything else as soon as their hips made 
contact. In front of him, Krycek leaned against the door and, without 
faltering in his steady gaze on Mulder's face, pulled him closer to rub 
their groins together. Mulder was surprised he managed to keep upright as 
white hot flashes of incredible pleasure spiked his brain.
"What do you think you are doing?" The words would have sounded harsher if 
they had not been mumbled into Krycek's shoulder, and Mulder was only too 
aware that he was doing something he might have resisted had he been sober.
The thought fuelled his anger, and he pressed even harder in between the 
legs that spread accommodatingly to allow him access.
He knew somewhere inside that this was crazy - more than that, it was 
stupid, wrong and dangerous, but then the handcuffs scraped across his face 
as Krycek tried for leverage, and the reminder turned his concerns into a 
wild chorus of 'yes, yes, yes, oh god, yes'.
His head was spinning with sensations and responses, all uninvited, all 
incredible. Was this what Alex was like, hard and hot and tasting so good. 
How could this be? How could this be him?
//Because it's not.//
The thought, like a slap in the face, hit him suddenly, sharply, broke 
through the furious hammering of his body and his mind, making him freeze 
mid-thrust and stiffen.
//It's not him.//
Feeling suddenly cold, he lifted his head and looked at the face only inches 
from his own. The familiar face stared back at him. Krycek's face. Krycek's 
eyes. No mistake there.
//Why does it feel that way?//
Allowing himself to recognise the feeling that had nagged him the whole 
plane ride, he thought quickly back. Since the airport. Since...since he had 
left him alone in the bathroom. He had come out different. But a difference 
not completely unfamiliar to Mulder, and somewhere inside he knew.
//Oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god.//
In front of him, Krycek's head lifted and Krycek's green eyes met his 
questioningly. Mulder felt the room starting to spin as he desperately tried 
to gather his thoughts.
"Krycek..."
"Are you alright in there, sir?"
The voice of the stewardess suddenly rang through the small cubicle, 
breaking the heavy silence, and releasing Mulder's frozen limbs. Remembering 
how to breathe again, he drew in a deep breath and shook himself back into 
life.
//Calm, must stay calm.//
"Yeah." Dropping the armful of Krycek he was holding, he quickly took a step 
back. "Fine. Don't worry, it's all under control." He looked from the man in 
front of him, and prayed that the sweat he could feel trickling down his 
back did not show in his eyes.
"Right, Krycek, I think we should go back to our seats now."
//You don't know for sure. You're drunk, you're imagining.//
In front of him, Krycek peered at him coolly and nodded.
"If that's what you want."
Then he just pried himself from the wall and turned around. Mulder looked at 
the back moving under the leather jacket as they walked the small isle back 
to their seats.
//I'm not that drunk.//
Once seated again, he ordered a coffee. He noticed his hands were shaking 
slightly as he lifted the cup to his lips, and out of the corner of his eye 
he could see Krycek leaning back against the window, like he had before. 
Mulder hoped it meant he was going to go back to being passive and silent. 
Maybe the pills had finally kicked in. Maybe he would go to sleep. 
Carefully, as not to disturb the man by his side, he looked over, only to 
stare directly into a calm, cold gaze. He inhaled sharply.
The window had the curtains pulled over it and against the dark red fabric, 
Krycek's green eyes seemed almost black.

III

"Get out! It is one thing to have to look at you at work but in my own 
apartment."
Mulder contemplated throwing the cup of steaming, hot coffee he was holding 
at the tall dark-haired guy standing in his doorframe. He still couldn't 
believe it. Skinner,*Skinner*, had just showed Krycek into his office that 
morning as if murderous triple-agents usually got a chance to explain 
themselves by the FBI. Granted he was in some pretty impressive company, but 
Marita had been on the suspicion list for years, she was no guarantee Krycek 
would behave.
It had been a hell of a day. Scully had been upset, and he hated seeing her 
upset. Skinner had been uptight, and that was almost worse. Even Langley had 
been subdues and edgy. The only people who had seemed completely unaffected 
had been Krycek and Marita, and that was the really irritating bit as they 
should rightfully be the ones most out of their element. He wondered briefly 
if the two were screwing and then wondered why he wondered that.
Now Alex was standing outside his door, looking as if he expected Mulder to 
beat him but determined to get into his apartment afterwards.
"I need to talk to you."
"You have talked to me, thank you. I am packing and then I will take your 
advice and then you should be happy. Don't push it."
He was about to slam the door, but Krycek put a foot between the wall and 
frame.
"I don't particularly want to come here knocking either," he said icily but 
with a pleading somewhere in it, "but I need to talk to you."
Mulder let out a snort.
"About?"
Krycek only shook his head quickly.
"Let's go for a drink." He mouthed one word. Bugs.
"You're kidding. I don't have time, okay."
"Suit yourself."
He gave Mulder a look, turned and left.
"Shit." Mulder swore and grabbed his jacket. "Shit." He closed the door 
behind him and hurried after the dark Armani jacket. Shit, shit, shit.
The bar they went into was not very nice, but it was not very bad either. 
Krycek ordered two beers and they took a table.
Then he looked seriously at Mulder who sullenly stared back.
"What is it then?"
Krycek watched him for a few more moments, and his voice was low when he 
spoke.
"There is something you should know concerning the smoking man."
Mulder didn't follow suit.
"Yeah?" He shrugged. "Spit it out."
Krycek was quiet for a time, watching Mulder over the table. Mulder took a 
deep swig of his beer and estimated his company. He did not know why, but he 
had had a strange feeling all day, a creepy, worried feeling that there was 
something he was overlooking and that this something might come to cost him 
dearly. It made him edgy. I was good to have a catalyst perhaps.
"Well, tell me then," he demanded, unimpressed.
Krycek peered calmly at him over the table.
"We have to decide what's in it for me."
"Screw you."
"Mulder..."
"S-c-r-e-w you."
Something passed over Krycek's eyes and his mouth hardened suddenly. Mulder 
took another deep swig of beer, and enjoyed the view. Making Krycek mad was 
sweet. After a day of basically taking orders from him it was practically 
required for his mental health.
"You seriously think I am here to do you favours."
Mulder wondered if Krycek could read his mind. It was a possibility, after 
all that went on with both of them. Well, read this then, Mulder thought and 
noticed he was almost through his whole bottle.
"I don't know, but I am definitely not here to do you any favours, so why 
don't we just forget it right now." He waved at a waitress. "Excuse me, 
could I have a whiskey, please."
When he turned back to Krycek he was watching him with a quizzical look in 
his green eyes.
"Scully driving tomorrow then?"
Mulder didn't bother answering that. He was still feeling odd, and it was 
only partly because of the company he held. He couldn't seem to hold his 
hands still as he tried to sort through what could be causing this anxiety.
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Whiskey?" He had decided that a good distraction from his problem filled 
mind would be to drive Krycek out of his mind. He resented the stern control 
he was displaying at the moment. He knew how important it was to the guy. 
Control. It bothered him that it had always been about his abandonment. He 
had said no to Krycek, sure, but he had been willing to give in, they both 
knew that, and Krycek had got away with it having been careful manipulation. 
And Krycek had instigated it on the plane, but it had not been him, really, 
and Mulder's response, however brief, had been unmistakable. It was 
humiliating and unfair. It was about control and Krycek sure had had far too 
much of that already. He also had a temper, Mulder had seen hints of it on 
occasion, and now he decided it was time to use it against him. It was a 
good plan. He smiled at the waitress as she brought him his order. "Cheers." 
He raised his glass to Krycek with a mocking face, actually wishing the man 
could read his mind.
Krycek only frowned slightly, his fingers curled around his own bottle, but 
not drinking it.
"So, I hear Scully hasn't been feeling too good lately."
Mulder's chest tightened. Okay, so he knew what buttons to press, that was 
for sure. And he was looking so damn stubborn, so damn professional as he 
sat staring at him across the table, seeing what effect his statement would 
have on him. Mulder wanted to see just a small tear, just a tiny little one, 
that he would have caused.
He chose to shrug and order another drink.
"Yeah. Don't tell me, it's you're fault again."
There was a short silence.
"There is a lot more at stake here than you think."
The jitters had started to be replaced by alcohol, but he still felt them in 
the back of his consciousness. He had been right. Sweeping his drink, he 
shuddered only partly from the bitter warmth hitting his stomach.
"Yeah."
"You'll want to hear this."
"And what do you want?"
"Just some access."
"Subtle, but not subtle enough."
Krycek shrugged.
"I just want things to go smoothly. And so do you. Let's not get hung up on 
personal differences." That was almost funny. The guy had used seduction to 
get what he wanted and now he was accusing Mulder of being 'personal'. 
"There is a mass surge of abductions, this time we have a spaceship, we know 
where it is and we know roughly how long it's going to be there. You can't 
afford not giving me a chance."
"I gave you a chance in Tunguska. You screwed me over. End of chances." He 
signalled for the waitress. "Could I just have a bottle, please."
He poured another generous amount in his glass and peered at Krycek over the 
table. He was feeling a bit better, the alcohol dulling his sixth sense, and 
making the frustrating jitters go away. In front of him, Krycek was talking 
again.
"The way I see it, we have a lot of common goals that we..."
"Getting any lately, Krycek?"
Krycek blinked a couple of times, then apparently decided to ignore the 
impromptu question.
"I think it is in both our interests to help each other."
"Is that a no then?"
Krycek flinched slightly, but composed himself.
"Something might...change in the near future concerning..." He broke off and 
looked down on his hand resting across the table. Then his mouth hardened 
again. "Are you going to grant my request?"
Mulder raised his glass to him.
"I am getting plenty, thanks for asking. I'm bedding everyone I can. Not 
saying no to anyone ever, oh, except for that one time. With you, remember. 
Wasn't that lucky."
Krycek flinched again, then looked away in disgust.
"Stop that," he said.
"Stop what?"
"Stop drinking."
"Tell me, if I had let you blow me, would you not have done what you did?"
He licked the whiskey from his lips and enjoyed the way Krycek's eyes 
narrowed.
"Damnit, Mulder, you'll want to hear what I have to say. Trust me."
Mulder gave a harsh laugh.
"Trust you? Oh, please, say that again. It was almost worth it seeing you 
again to hear those words from your lips. Go on." He leaned over the table. 
"Say it." When he was so close to Krycek he could feel the other man's 
breath on his face, he tilted his head some and made a show out of sniffing 
him. "Is that tobacco I smell? Have you taken up smoking, Krycek? Or is it 
from your dying sugar daddy? I guess that answers my question of whether you 
have got laid lately, huh. Congratulations, he is quite a catch."
Krycek gone completely still and as Mulder leaned back with a smirk he shook 
his head, his exterior calm but his green eyes blazing.
"Okay, Mulder," he said then, his voice suddenly hard. "I didn't want to 
blow you. I thought it might be a smart move. You almost fell for it but 
lucked out by due to timing. Now can we go back to talking about tomorrow?"
"You were hard as a rock, though."
"Shut up."
"You were. I could feel it. And I bet you were hard for me when we were in 
that cell as well. And in my apartment. Is kissing on the cheek Russian for 
"fuck me, please"."
"Don't do this, Mulder."
Mulder knocked back the whiskey, his third or fourth, in one go, Then he 
grabbed the bottle, stood up, leaned over the table until he was only inches 
from the dark-haired man's face.
"What about when you killed my father, Krycek. Were you hard then? I bet you 
were."

It took almost half a minute until he heard steps behind him.
"Mulder."
He stopped and let Krycek catch up. The triple agent's eyes were dark as he 
stopped a few steps away from him.
"You are really going to be that stupid, then?" he said.
Keeping his distance. Afraid to lose his temper. Mulder knew he had him.
"Well, we already know I am stupid. Saying no to someone on his knees 
begging to suck me off. Well, I don't need to tell you that, because, hey, 
it was you."
He got a hard push in the chest. Happy he had managed to find one of 
Krycek's buttons he only took a few unsteady steps back, and then he turned.
"Thank you, that was nice. Now, if you don't mind I am going home and then I 
hope I never see you again."
He started walking, fully intent on doing exactly that.
"He is closer to death than you think."
He stopped suddenly and turned back.
Krycek was looking a bit crest-fallen, blinking silently at Mulder who 
stared back. Had Krycek just given him something for free? Was it another 
trick. One look at him told Mulder it had been more of a desperate slip than 
any calculated manipulating. He took a half step towards the man.
"How close?"
But Krycek was pressing his lips together, regarding Mulder with a stubborn 
look.
"I am not going to give you access, Krycek."
"Someone else might be in danger as well."
"Who?"
"How bad do you want to know?"
"How badly do you want to tell me?"
The worrying thing was that the urgent need in Krycek's eyes to tell him 
indicated that it might be himself who was in danger. Mulder swallowed.
"I can't give you access."
There was a pause as Krycek's eyes grew even more intense, then something 
seemed to pass over them and he just nodded tiredly.
"Then...then I can't help you."
He looked suddenly resigned, weary, and as he turned to leave, Mulder 
watched his tense back, his fisted hands and his strident steps. He had 
understood the look, and his chest tightened at the thought.
"Hey." He started after the disappearing figure. "Wait."
At the words Krycek turned back.
"What, Mulder?"
"Is it me?"
They were standing closer than they had been all evening. Krycek's face was 
still stoic, so Mulder kissed him. Quickly, but hard. Drunkenly, but with 
determination. Surprising both of them.
"Is it me, Alex?" he whispered again, his lips still brushing against the 
other man's. He could feel the body against him shuddering, then tensing.
"Fuck, Mulder," was all he said.
Then he suddenly reached out, grabbed the bottle from Mulder's hand and 
quickly put it to his lips. Mulder found he could only stare at him. Jesus, 
the guy hardly made a face gulping down an amount that Mulder wasn't even 
sure he would have been able to keep down.
When he handed back the bottle with a dark look his mouth had a sticky 
wetness around it and Mulder felt himself suddenly completely mesmerised by 
the soft, perfectly curved lips.
"Kiss me," he whispered. "Now. Kiss me."
Krycek looked up at him, and Mulder licked his own lips involuntarily, and 
this seemed to trigger something in the other man because suddenly Krycek 
attacked.
He tackled him low and Mulder grunted and then gasped and enjoyed the 
alcohol getting a new surge as they tumbled into some containers lining the 
small alleyway.
The fight was sharper, edgier, than usual. He was hot and hard and dizzy as 
they spun, crashing into the stone wall and landing behind the dumpsters.
It seemed that Krycek had finally lost his temper. He was cursing and 
spitting and biting and kicking, Mulder found he could do little to defend 
himself against the feline attack pinning him down. He reckoned he should 
feel proud. This was what he had wanted, what he had aimed for. Not being 
torn to pieces while being flat on his back on the ground, perhaps, but to 
be able to pierce through Krycek's precious self-control.
"Jesus," he gasped out as Krycek's teeth made contact with his cheek, having 
time to think that it was lucky the whiskey would probably help clean the 
wound, while trying to stave off the savage attack.
Then he managed to push Krycek's face down a bit and when the mouth latched 
on to his neck the biting was suddenly different.
"Jesus, Krycek," he repeated, meaning it to be a warning, an objection, but 
the pulsating in his ears had reached his groin and involuntarily his hips 
thrust forward. "No, I...shit."
He got no room to finish the sentence as Krycek bit him again, just below 
the ear, and then the feel of his wet tongue sent Mulder's thoughts 
scattering over the ground and his whiskey-flavoured blood straight down to 
his groin.
It could be another trick, another way of using his dick to get what he 
wanted, but Mulder doubted it somehow. He didn't think Krycek was conscious 
enough at the moment to be that manipulative, and besides, at that point he 
didn't give a shit. There was not a single part of their bodies that wasn't 
touching and Krycek could have been wearing a microphone and tape-recorder 
and pointed at a camera in the corner, and Mulder still wouldn't have 
stopped. He was so hard and drunk and had been teased for so long and 
*goddamnit* he had been so scared all day and nothing helped but the taste 
and smell and feel and heat of Krycek's body against him.
Quickly he rolled them over, and he ground was cold and the alcohol and
arousal and fear melted together and he closed his eyes and didn't even try
to fight it as he started thrusting hard, relentlessly, just to get himself
a bit higher, a bit closer. When he looked down, Krycek had turned his face
away and was pressing his lips together as if resenting what was happening,
and Mulder might have believed it if his eyes hadn't been so dazed and his
fists on Mulder's hips hadn't kept clasping and unclasping as they drove
into each other. He felt a sense of wonder and menace, //Krycek has given
up... Krycek... Alex wants this so much he has given up//, and he reached
down and grabbed strands of brown hair and pushed his head back roughly.
"This what you want?" he demanded and got off on asking it. No way would
Krycek be able to pretend it wasn't real afterwards. "Tell me. Is this what
you want?"
Krycek still avoided meeting his eyes, but his neck arched into the brusque 
grasp, and Mulder took that as an affirmation. He let out a victorious 
grunt. "Want to fuck? Huh?" Then his fists involuntarily tightened in the 
dark hair. "If something's really going to happen to me tomorrow, don't you 
want just one last, hot fuck right now?"
The body underneath him went suddenly still and when he looked down to meet 
the green eyes there was so much pain in them for a moment that he was taken 
aback.
"Fuck you, Mulder." The voice was a hiss, a low rasping sound. "I couldn't 
care less about you, you son-of-a-bitch."
And then Krycek kissed him, and there was a desperation in it, and Mulder 
thought he could hear him whispering *fucking sonofabitch*, and the words 
sent jolts of panic through him, making him push harder as the kisses 
deepened and then suddenly he heard a loud groan and the arms around his 
neck tightened and teeth bit into his lips as Krycek came hard, shuddering 
in his arms. Mulder hardly noticed his own orgasm, as he closed his eyes, 
moaned and bit back.
They lay still for a long, long time. Panting and not letting go, the 
embrace painfully hard.
Mulder felt dazed and weary and wondered if he could open Krycek's jeans and 
lick the sticky seed there, but he decided letting go of Krycek's body might 
be a bit more than he was capable of.
"I'm glad you finally lost control," he mumbled, resting his forehead 
against the flushed face in front of him and his hands on the now unmoving 
hips.
Krycek only reply was a long shudder. Their mouths kept brushing together.
"Your lips are so beautiful." Mulder was far too tired to care.
The light brushing quickly became deep and needy again.
"You son-of-a-bitch," Krycek said.
They went home to Mulder's place and fucked the whole night. Up against the 
wall in the hall, not even taking care to do more than unzipping their jeans 
as they went down on each other. On the couch, Shirts undone, jeans around 
their ankles, Krycek coming all over the upholstery hardly three thrusts 
after Mulder had entered him. On the bed, naked now, taking a little more 
time as Krycek did him slow but hard, making Mulder take leverage against 
the head-post, wondering if there was any way of making it last forever.
He fell asleep with Krycek collapsed on his chest, still inside him, and 
woke up again at dawn by the furious ringing of the telephone.
"Yeah." His voice was hoarse, rasping against his sore throat, and he 
wondered if he looked about the same as he sounded. Sick. Disgusting. 
Thoroughly fucked.
"Mulder? Are you ready to go?" It was Skinner's voice.
He looked at the sleeping form of Krycek next to him. He looked at the few 
things he had packed. He looked around the apartment.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess I am."

The End.