Save and Play
By Scipionis <Scipionis@aol.com>
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just "borrowed" them, and I gave them back when I was done to CC, 1013, Fox. Except for Cecilia and Sabrina. I've got no idea if Skinner has a sister. And the total profit I get is zero, nil, niente. Don't sue me, it's no use anyway.
Rating: M/Sk romance. NC-17 for m/m slash, the gentlemen in question being Mulder and Skinner. Some angst, some language, some humor. If you are underage and/or if the subject offends you, go away again. There's plenty of other stuff to read.
Summary: Mulder goes off half-cocked again, and Skinner has to go after him. Then they get close, closer, closest. Set after Paperclip but before Avatar.
If you want to put this on your page, go ahead but tell me you do it.
Dedicated to Isabeau, my, shall we say, advisor who contributed the tent idea. She'll be adding a little something to the archives as well, so be on the look- out.
Orgies! Orgies! We want or- oh, excuse me, wrong story. Feedback! Feedback! I want feedback! Comments, constructive (!) critique, and general are-you-there?'s to Scipionis@aol.com. No flames, I fight back.

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Save and Play
by Scipionis

"Good morning, Kim. Did you have a nice weekend?" AD Skinner was in a fine mood for a change, Kim noticed. He would not be so happy for long.

"Fine, sir. But I'm afraid something has come up."

Skinner looked at her with surprise. What could possibly have happened in the half hour Kim had been in the office? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But she had that peculiar expression on her face that told him the news would not make him happy. And usually the look was prompted by the newest antics of Special Agent Fox Mulder. There was a standing bet in Records whether 'Spooky' Mulder would get himself killed in one of his wild goose chases or Skinner would kill him in affect. Justifiable homicide was the phrase they used.

The AD sighed. "All right, Kim, let's hear it. What has Agent Mulder done now?"

Kim appeared not to be too happy to be the one who had to break the news to him. "He seems to have gone AWOL. I found a sick leave note on my desk when I came in. But it has not been confirmed. And Agent Scully is on vacation, so she cannot be reached or I would have called her about this."

Skinner closed his eyes. Maybe he ought to put something in the kitty and make a killing by killing Mulder. The man deserved it. "Is that all, Kim?"

"No, sir. This was also on my desk. It's addressed to you." She handed him a sealed folder. Studying his name on the envelope, he recognized Mulder's handwriting. With a feeling of coming dread, he took it with him into his office, throwing it on his desk.

After he had taken off his suit jacket and hung it in the closet, Skinner poured some of the coffee Kim kept ready for him into a mug and took it to his desk. Seating himself in his chair, he sighed deeply. He decided he was as braced as he was going to get. He slit the envelope and took out the single sheaf of paper. It was written on the computer, with Mulder's signature at the bottom. Gritting his teeth, Skinner began to read.

AD Skinner, I apologize for doing this to you again, but I do not feel I have a choice. Please understand, sir, I have to do this. If you do not hear from me in one week's time, it must be assumed that I have failed in my mission and am probably dead as a result. I will give you the information where I have gone and what is supposed to be there. Please give it to Scully. She will know what to do. Copies of the information are in my apartment, in the fish tank under the sand. Thank you.

               Fox Mulder

Skinner stared at the letter with a certain amount of surprise. This was beyond his fears. Agent Mulder, while as obsessed as they came, did not usually go into danger with the feeling that he was going to die. And he had never been willing to use Skinner as his security without being forced to do so by the circumstances. This was serious. Skinner leaned back into his chair and tried to figure out what to do about this. Mulder expected to die. Scully was not there to help him. Skinner closed his eyes. The line where he stood had just been crossed for good. If he didn't do something, Mulder was sure to die. It was not really a choice.

Skinner slipped the lockpick back into his pocket, took up the Washington Post the agent had subscribed, and entered Mulder's apartment. He had been here only once before, and at that time he had not been interested in the decor. The place looked as though it had been tossed, but there were signs that the chaos had gradually built over time and simply left this way as homage to the owner's comfort. He left the paper on the table, then made his way carefully past a matched set of pizza cartons and a knee-high build-up of magazines. He took the top one and looked at the title. "The Lone Gunman." Western? Who knew, with Mulder?

Putting the magazine back, Skinner moved to the fish tank. Oddly enough, there were no fish in it. <If he uses that tank for hiding things on a regular basis, I'm not surprised.>

There was water in the tank. Skinner picked it up and carried it to the sink. Carefully, he let the water run down the drain, then shook out the wet sand. Under the whole mess - there must have been fish in there at some point and Mulder hadn't cleaned out their remains -there was a watertight plastic folder that was addressed to Scully. Skinner looked in distaste at the stinking and probably rotting sand he cleaned off the folder. He had to admit that he would never gone through this fishy graveyard if he hadn't known that he would find something there. It certainly had merit as a safe. Unless Mulder wanted to get more fish.

Skinner wiped the folder with a dishtowel that had seen better days and opened it. Satellite pictures of something he could not identify, a smaller sealed envelope to Scully, and a short note from Mulder's contact, whoever he might be, and a piece, that had been torn out of a larger map - one from Wisconsin, Skinner saw. There were different markings on it that looked to be pointing to a location that was supposed to be pure forest country. The marks were detailed enough so Skinner was confident that he would be able to find the exact spot. The note mentioned a biological weapon that was being produced in a laboratory at the marked spot. But there was nothing there that could have moved Mulder to be so certain of the danger. He looked through the papers again. The only thing he had not checked out was the letter to Scully and he felt it would be an even greater breach of confidence than he was already committing to open that. It probably contained only personal information, anyway.

Skinner went to the table to spread out the photos and pushed the paper off it. A slip of paper fell out. Expecting it to be the usual junk mail, Skinner picked it up to put it back inside. But then he saw that this was yet another secret communique. A miracle that Mulder was able to get any work done with all the spy activity he was involved in. With the vague hope that the note was connected to the case, Skinner read it.

Agent Mulder, do not attempt to follow the information you received. It is false, a ruse to get you out of DC. If you reach the laboratory described in the information, you are likely to be infected by the substance. Do not under any circumstances come into skin contact with the substance. Contact me ASAP.

Skinner threw it down angrily. So Mulder was after some sort of virus, was he? Mulder hadn't seen this, the paper had still been outside the door. He had gone off on a false trail thinking he would be killed. And from the sound of this, he still might be. There was no help for it, Skinner would have to go after him. Of all the times this could have happened, it had to be when Scully was on vacation. Skinner gathered up the papers, including the note from the Post. He thought about cleaning up the fish tank, but decided against it. Let Mulder clean his own messes. This was too disgusting.

Skinner had needed only a few hours to make his travel arrangements. The papers and the letter to Scully had gone to his younger niece Cecilia who was the closest thing to a computer wizard he knew and who would take good care of them. She would act as his backup, and gladly. He had defended her from her mother, his sister, when she had gotten in trouble which she was likely to do whenever an opportunity arose. Quite like Agent Mulder, in fact, though she did it out of boredom. He was keeping her occupied with riddles and tests he had based on Quantico training. The disturbing thing about that was that she had passed nearly all of them. Skinner had the feeling it would be he in trouble when she told her mother she wanted to become an FBI agent. How a conservative family like his had bred an eccentric like Cecilia, he would never know. At least he had managed to keep his bisexuality from her. No telling what she might dream up then. Emma Woodhouse came to mind.

He had approved Mulder's sick leave and taken a week of accumulated vacation time. Kim knew not to expect him back sooner than that and would cover for him, if someone decided to ask questions. Cecilia had moved into his apartment for the time being and would sound the alarm if she didn't hear from him before that week was up. He hoped that covered everything.

Skinner had dressed in jeans and sweater, as inconspicuous as possible, packed everything that had any chance of being useful into a battered backpack. Water, pocket knife, ammunition, compass, cell phone, matches and candle, tape, food, blanket, his special first aid kit, map copy, handcuffs - he didn't really think he would have to haul Mulder back in chains, but they could come in useful. He still remembered the drill from his time in Vietnam, and followed it as carefully as he had then. It occurred to him that he was treating this as a war, which seemed rather appropriate. He took up his gun and put it into the holster.

Cecilia had watched him through all his preparations silently, sitting on the table. He had let her. It was too much trouble to keep her off it. Now she observed, "You must like that Mulder person very much." Skinner turned to look at her, trying to figure out if this was one of her jokes but found her serious.

"He's a fine agent. And if I don't go after him, no-one will."

"Ah, yes, Uncle Walter the clean-up man who always has the most fitting cliche."

He made a face at her. "Keep my phone bill to a minimum." He shot a pointed look at the laptop and modem she had brought. She just grinned her evil little grin. <If I didn't know for sure she's family...> He picked up the backpack. She slid off the table and clasped his arms. "Be careful."

"I'll be, never fear. You should take care." He messed up her hair, put on his jacket, then left without another word. As he walked down the corridor he heard the key turn in the lock.

Cecilia leaned against the door. <Really, Uncle, I don't think you'd do this for anyone. Not even for those boyfriends of yours I'm not supposed to know about. Maybe you don't want to admit it, but I'm sure there's a little something there . I gotta meet this Mulder.>

Skinner locked the rental and put the keys into the backpack. It had taken him more time than he had estimated to come this far. It would be better to go on with the car, but from here on it would be cross-country. He had to go on foot. The map told him that the laboratory was about twenty miles in a southeasterly direction. He didn't relish the thought of having to hike through all that underbrush. <Agent Mulder, at least this will give me enough blackmail material to make you behave when you make trouble next time. You had better behave yourself for at least three months.> There was no help for it. With a sigh Skinner set out.

Mulder had a two-day head start, most likely he had already found the lab. He was younger and could probably go somewhat faster than Skinner. <No endurance left. Guess I'm getting old.> There was no chance in hell that he could catch up. He just had to hope he would get there in time to prevent the worst.

Having spent the night under a lean-to, Skinner reached the laboratory in the afternoon the next day. It was deserted and had been for some time. He went through the whole drill, checking for entrances, looking for signs of recent activity. There was nothing. The place was empty, but for some reason all the lights were on. <Probably a generator, but why is it on?> The only door he found had been opened by force. Skinner decided to take a risk and went in. Nothing, only dust , except for a single set of footprints. <Mulder did get here. Damn. I wish I knew more about this substance or virus or whatever it is. What precisely does it do?> He followed the tracks, swearing silently to himself. Never in his life had he thought he would have to emulate Goddamn Daniel Boone in search of anyone, especially Agent Mulder.

The tracks were leading deeper into the complex. Mulder must have gone in less than carefully. Maybe he had known there wouldn't be anyone there. Skinner's uneasy feeling intensified. The tracks had led in, not out. There had been no other entrance visible, so he had to assume Mulder was still inside. He crouched down and took a closer look at the prints. There was already a fine coating of dust collecting on the marks. Mulder must have gone in and the virus or whatever it was had hit him so fast he couldn't even go back outside. <It's transmitted via skin contact, but he didn't know that. He must have touched the whatever-it-is.>

Skinner went faster, by now assuming it was not a trap. There were small cubicles for sleeping, bathrooms serviced by a rainwater tank that was still in working order, and something he took to be a mess hall. The dusty prints led him into a larger room, just as unused as the rest of the facility. There were containers all over the place, all sizes and in all states of repair. Some had been broken and their contents spilled out. The stuff inside was a reddish gray. It seemed to be solid, not even powderized, but Skinner had no way to check that without risking infection himself. And that was a risk he did not want to take.

He found Mulder at the far side of the lab, still enough to be dead. His belongings were scattered all around him. He seemed to have thrashed around when the virus had hit, but now was as limp as a rag. His right hand was showing signs of the substance. Skinner dared not come near the agent, so he went into one of the bathrooms, hoping that he could get rid of the virus with water. He wrapped toilet paper around his hand and wetted it down carefully. With any luck it would be enough.

He returned to Mulder's side, but before he touched him, he looked him over for any other traces of the red substance. Apparently he had only touched it with three fingers of his right hand. Skinner wiped the traces off Mulder's hand and tried to get as much as he could out from under his fingernails. He had to get more water twice until he was sure that he had removed it all. When he checked for a pulse , it was there, regular but faint. His breathing was normal, if a little raspy. No fever, but his whole face was covered with cold sweat. He picked Mulder up and carried him out of the lab into one of the small bedrooms. He stripped off the agent's jacket and tried to gauge what the virus had done to him. Mulder was very pale and his lips were so parched that they were raw and open. When Skinner put a wet cloth on the broken lips, he noticed with a shock that Mulder's eyes were half-open and he was looking at him, not quite focused, but aware. Skinner realized with a start that he was awake and had been the whole time. <Biological weapon. That's what this is. Paralyzer. Oh my God.> Mulder must have lain there on the floor for the better part of two days after he'd been infected, unable to move. Skinner shuddered. <Of all the things he could have found, why did it have to be this?>

"Agent Mulder, can you hear me?" No reaction. "It's okay, I know you can't move . Just relax, I'll take care of everything. Don't worry, I'll be right back."

He went out to get Mulder's gear from the lab, carrying it into the small room. The agent had not moved at all. Skinner took out the water bottle and held it to Mulder's lips. The agent didn't react visibly, but Skinner could see him swallow. < So the vegetative nervous system isn't affected. If it was he'd be dead already . Reflexes are fine, too. Thank God for small favors. I really don't know what I would have done if he couldn't swallow. I would have never gotten him to a hospital in time.> That brought up a new problem. <I can't carry him back to civilization. He'll have to make it under his own steam. That means we have to stay here until he's well enough to walk. I can't call for help, they would have to get here the same way I did, and who knows what might come instead of first aid.>

Mulder was trying to talk when Skinner came to his bed again. But the sounds he made were too weak to understand them. He wondered what Mulder was trying to tell him. <Well, whatever it is, it will have to wait until he gets better. I ought to reassure him.> He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Agent Mulder, why don't you just try to sleep the effects off. We can talk later when you feel better. Just rest. Everything else can wait." <It's abating already. That must be why they abandoned the project. Not that I mind.>

He pulled Mulder's boots off his feet and bundled him into the blanket he had dusted off. Then he sat down in the single chair and turned off the light.

Mulder lay in the dark, listening to Skinner move around. Whatever he had expected when he heard someone enter the room, it had not been Skinner. He'd thought it might be one of Cancerman's henchmen. Mulder hadn't been this afraid in his life often. When the b-weapon had begun to affect him, he had thought of a trap. He had been dizzy and the room had started to tilt around. His field of vision had become smaller and smaller with bright and colorful spots. He knew he had fallen but he couldn't get up. He had landed on top of his flashlight. It had dug into his back the whole time. He hadn't even been able to roll off it. He had been so thirsty. But he couldn't reach for the canteen he had brought. He could only stay where he was, waiting for the paralysis to wear off. Surely it would be gone in the morning. But it wasn't. Maybe in the evening. No. Not the next day, either. The note hadn't said anything about this. And then the sounds had come. And all he could do was lie there and wait for whoever it was to find him. Mulder had wanted desperately for the newcomer to be Scully. But he knew it wasn't her. Those were a man's sounds. He had thought he was going to die. If that man didn't kill him, the thirst and hunger would. But it had been Skinner. Skinner had helped him, wiped the carrier traces off his skin and put him to bed. He had given him a bit to drink. That was nice of him. And Mulder felt better now, not as sick. His throat didn't hurt so much anymore. He had been able to look around now. He had tried to thank Skinner, but his tongue wouldn't move right. Skinner had been patient, not angry. Mulder was glad of that. He didn't like it when Skinner was angry at him .

Mulder knew he wasn't thinking right. Everything took so much effort. He remembered a friend from university who had sworn that she lost thirty IQ points for three days after full anesthetic. She had probably been allergic to something. Now he knew how she felt. He was so tired. Maybe he should sleep. Skinner had said it would be okay.

Skinner had watched Mulder until his breathing had told him that the younger man was asleep. The agent had never in all the time Skinner had known him looked so innocent. Always before Skinner had felt he needed to brace himself to deal with Mulder, who was very deserving of the name "Spooky." <This is an improvement over the endless arguments.> Immediately, Skinner chided himself for thinking the virus could act as a pacifier for Mulder. <On the whole, I'd rather deal with him on full strength. Even if he does give me headaches.>

He rose and stretched, thinking that he should not leave Mulder alone during the night. There was some salvageable bedding in one of the other small rooms. Skinner went to get it and put it on the floor before Mulder's bed. The agent hadn't stirred, he was still fast asleep. Skinner bundled up his jacket into a pillow and lay down on the makeshift bed. After less than two minutes he was dreaming.

In the middle of the night, Skinner was woken by a noise he couldn't identify at first. <What on earth?> He sat up, realizing that the sounds were coming from Mulder. He turned on the light and bent over his agent. Mulder was awake and thrashing around in uncontrolled movements, trying to get up and failing miserably. The virus had to be wearing off by now, or he would never have been able to move even as weakly as he was. Skinner took him by the shoulders and gently shook him, trying to reassure him. "Mulder?"

"C'n't m've - help-" were the only understandable words that came out of Mulder 's mouth, and he wouldn't stop shaking. <Oh, hell.>

"Mulder, you're fine, it's just the virus. Just a nightmare. Nobody's hurting you. Calm down, it's okay." Skinner spent the next hour or so getting Mulder to stop trembling, but was forced to stay close to him. Whenever Skinner attempted to leave the bed, Mulder panicked again and clung to him like a child and wouldn't let go. He still was not articulate enough to make himself understood, but the meaning was clear, he didn't want Skinner to leave him. So Skinner braced himself against the wall, took Mulder into his arms and rocked him gently like a baby, whispering to him that everything was fine, nobody would hurt him. He felt odd, holding a grown man who was definitely not a lover in his arms like this, especially Mulder.

Skinner had never had a child and his whole experience with children outside his own childhood was reduced to his nieces. He was reminded of them now. Sabrina, the older one, had always been quiet and had permitted her uncle to hold her. Cecilia had squirmed against him and demanded that they play, even when she was supposed to be sleeping. What he remembered from them was very different from Mulder, confused or no. Even the scent was different. Every human being has a unique body smell, almost as unique as fingerprints. Mulder's was strong, unwashed as he was, but not unpleasant. Not as sweet as a woman, but spicy. Skinner could smell the traces of sweat. It was really fascinating, how different smells made you react to people -

With a start, Skinner realized what he had been doing. His hands were caressing Mulder, his face was buried in his neck, and he was still rocking the agent, who had by then fallen asleep again. Skinner shifted and tried to ignore the fact that he had gotten an erection. <Thank God he's asleep, I could never in a million years live this down. And anyway - Mulder?! I must be taking Sharon's leaving harder than I thought. I haven't had a lover in ages.> Mulder in that capacity he didn't dare contemplate. <As long as he sleeps, he doesn't know and won't have me on charges for sexual harassment. Hell, even if he does, nobody would believe him. They'd think it was one of his weirder ideas. I hope. I do not need to be questioned about my sexual preferences.>

Mulder moved in his sleep against him and snuggled closer.

Skinner sighed. It was going to be a long night.

When Mulder woke up the next morning, his first thought was why he was upright and leaned against someone who was gently snoring into his ear. That someone was a man, he realized, staring down at a pair of rather muscular arms that were holding him. <Who is he, where am I, why are we like this, what did I do last night? Wait. Wait a minute. The lab, the b-weapon, yes, but that means the man is -Skinner!> Mulder sat up straight, and nearly fell off the bed in the attempt to take a look. Skinner woke from the abrupt movement, reflexively catching Mulder before he could topple off the bed, which left them both on their sides and looking each other in the eye.

Skinner found his voice first. "Are you all right?"

Mulder's eyes were wide open and focused again. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. If you'll just let me up -" He tried to sit up, but had to find he was still dizzy. Grasping Skinner's arm for support, he put his head between his knees in the hope that the spell would pass.

Skinner sat next to him on the edge of the bed. It did not seem to be the right time to berate him for his conduct, so he just said, "Try not to concentrate on the dizziness. The less you think about it, the faster it passes."

"Thanks for the advice. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but what are you doing here?"

"Cleaning up after you. By the way, it's no surprise your fish keep dying if you never change the sand in that tank."

Mulder sat up and had to bend over again right away as he could not keep his balance. "Fish? You checked out my tank? I wrote you not to unless I -"

"- unless you died, I know," Skinner interrupted. "Agent Mulder, has the thought occurred to you that your death is precisely what Cancerman is waiting for? By now he surely has figured out that we won't make the files public if you go off half-cocked and get yourself killed. Aside from that, the person who sends you messages in the Post has warned you to stay away from this site. I found the note when I checked your fishy safe."

This was all going a little fast for Mulder. "What? Slow down, please. I really don't feel all that good yet. This thing was given to me to get me killed?"

"I think so. They pushed your buttons very well. I believe they just waited until Scully went on vacation to do it."

His head was swimming. Skinner could probably think circles around him right now. "Please, sir, can we talk later? I'm thirsty."

"Of course, sorry." Skinner picked up the bottle and gave it to Mulder who put it to his lips and didn't stop drinking until he had finished the whole thing. Skinner dug out a sandwich which was also finished in short order. It seemed to do a lot of good, Mulder was getting some of his color back and was able to sit without help. He really looked at Skinner for the first time.

"Sir, why are you here?"

"To keep you from getting killed. I couldn't send Scully after you, so I had to come myself. Mulder, really, this sort of thing has got to stop. You attract the weirdness in life anyway, you don't have to go looking for it as well. Will you please think before you barge in to leave Scully or me to pick up the pieces? Especially if you send messages that could be right out of Star Trek telling us that you think you will die. 'And am probably dead as a result', my God! How do you think we feel about that? You are not alone, Agent Mulder, stop acting like you are."

Mulder went bright red. He had to admit that Skinner had a point. But he would never tell that to Skinner. "What do you care?"

"If you died? Of course."

"Why?" The question had popped out before he knew it. Skinner gaped at him for a minute, then looked away.

"Mulder, why don't we continue this conversation when you are feeling a little more like yourself. You ought to rest, because we have to get out of here by this afternoon if we want to make it back to work before we're missed."

"You're evading the question."

Skinner paused to look at Mulder. Yes, he was definitely clear again. Still a little wobbly on his legs, but fully there mentally. "How could I not come? If I hadn't I might have gotten a message that your corpse had been found in a ditch somewhere, and then what would I have told Scully? Or your mother? Sorry, ladies, it was too uncomfortable to take care of him just then, here's the badge, there's not a whole lot more left, you'll just have to make do. I don't think so. I'd like to reach fifty."

Mulder was laughing weakly. "I'd never have figured you for a sarcastic, sir."

"Most people don't. Now, try to sleep again. Here's the food and water. I'll be checking out this place more carefully." He turned to go, then changed his mind. "You wouldn't happen to know where the electricity comes from?"

"There's a generator down the corridor. I found it and turned it on again. I found the lab only after I had more light than the flashlight gave." He sounded drowsy again.

"Fine, Mulder. You just sleep."

He went to take a look at the generator. It was a small one, just strong enough to supply this facility. <When we go I ought to turn it off. And lock the door again. I really don't want to think about what this virus will do to the wildlife around here if we leave it open.> He checked out the rainwater tank and decided it was most likely safe to drink, so he went back to refill the water bottles. <The important question is, do I ask Mulder about the virus? Do I even want to know more?> Holding the container under water, he watched the air inside bubble up. <No, I don't. Let him have his secrets. I'll pretend this was just a pleasure hike. Now, let's see, one day here, then three, we'll need two back - yes, if we go tonight, we' ll make it in time.>

He brought the bottles back to their room. Mulder was sleeping again, looking so much more peaceful than when he was awake. <He looks as though he couldn't hurt a fly. Very deceptive. And very pretty.> Skinner tore himself away and began packing their belongings. <Calm yourself, Walter. The man is trouble enough as it is, you do not want him as a lover. He's not your type anyway. Way too thin.> Skinner checked the time and decided that they had about an hour until they had to go. <I'll let him sleep a bit longer. But then I have to get him to eat some more, he must be starved. I wonder how long he was here. No, Walter, put it out of your mind. You are not going to ask him. You'll simply give him back his papers and that'll be the long and the short of it. Christ above, Cecilia! I'd better call her to let her know I'm fine. If she's not wreaking havoc with my phone bill.>

Skinner left the room so he wouldn't disturb Mulder and punched in the digits of his own number. After only two rings, Cecilia answered.

"Hi, kiddo, it's me."

"Uncle Wally! You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. And don't call me Wally! Any problems?"

"None to speak of. How is that Mulder person of yours? You know, the guy you were going to rescue on your white charger?"

"He's fine."

"Is that all you have to say about him?"

"Yes."

"Oh. In that case, where are you?"

"We're still at the site, but we're going to be back by early Sunday morning, I think. Can you stay that long?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll just sit tight and order Chinese on your plastic, invite a bunch of friends and we'll have a party that ends with your neighbors calling the cops. By the way, Mom says she wants to talk to you about me."

"Why am I not surprised? Don't tell me what you have done now. I'll need time to brace myself."

She laughed into the receiver. "Oh, you'll rise to the occasion. So, I'll see you on Sunday. Have fun on your trip back." Before he could ask what on earth she meant by that last crack, he heard the connection end. She had hung up on him.

Behind him, Mulder asked, "Who was that?"

Skinner turned to look at him. Mulder was standing in the door frame with no visible signs of strain or dizziness. "My backup. Who happens to be my niece. Did I wake you?"

"Yes, but I don't mind. Don't we have to go soon?"

"It would be better, yes. Why don't you eat something. I already had a snack. Then we can leave. I'll just go figure out how to block the door after us."

"All right." Mulder took another sandwich and realized only when he had bitten into it how hungry he was. He wolfed it down, then unscrewed one of the bottles and took a long swallow.

He was still embarrassed that he had made such an ass out of himself last night . <Though Skinner took it rather well. Up to the point where he got hard. I really wonder who he was thinking of to get horny. Was it me? Nah, Skinner is straight . I think. I hardly know anything about the man. I don't even know if he's married. And this is the first I've heard about a niece. Sister or brother? Maybe I ought to ask. Then again, maybe not. But I'm damn sure I won't mention his, well, lapse of control.> He was staring at the next sandwich without seeing it. He had liked the experience of having another man's cock pushing into his back. It had taken all his self-discipline not to move. That would have been too much. It was too much even now. He would like to try it once, just for curiosity. It wasn't as though it could be anything he hadn't already seen on his videos...

Mulder shook himself free of his fantasy. Hardly out of mortal danger, and all he could think of was fucking? Not enough with that, he thought of fucking Skinner ? Who would probably file sexual harassment out of principle. Now that Cancerman would just love. <Better not to try.>

He finished the sandwich and the water, then began to pack the few things he had brought into the backpack. Normally he would have been infuriated about the lack of success, but the two days of lying paralyzed and helpless in a lab waiting for his death with a flashlight digging into his back had curbed his taste for the truth. All he wanted was to get out of there and to hell with the lab and all of its contents. Skinner was right, it had probably been a trap. And he had been dumb enough to walk straight in. If this was an example of his judgment he had better not play poker anytime soon.

Skinner returned just then. "Mulder? We have to get going."

"Yes, I'm coming."

Skinner picked up his backpack and held out a hand to help Mulder stand. The agent hesitated, then took the hand and hauled himself upright by it. He thought about saying something, but decided against it. Without another word, the two men went to turn off the generator and to set the door Mulder had broken down back into its frame. Then Skinner led the way back in the direction where he had left the car, Mulder following behind.

They were not making as much progress as Skinner had on his own. Mulder needed frequent breaks just to catch his breath. He had recovered well from the virus, but wasn't on full strength quite yet. The effects had begun to abate the moment the traces had been removed from his skin. Only occasionally would a spell of dizziness hit him. Skinner considered that a mercy. It made it possible for them to continue until Mulder felt badly, then rest for a few minutes.

Skinner was talking most of the time, telling Mulder what he had done to cover his tracks, talking about Cecilia. Mulder was still laughing about the phone story when it started to rain at about seven in the evening. The rain quickly turned into a short downpour that drenched them to the skin in the five minutes it actually lasted. They would have to stop to avoid cold or worse. That meant less time to get back to DC. <Just my luck.> Skinner cursed violently under his breath.

"I agree," Mulder said. "Let's stop now. I can't go much further anyway."

Skinner shrugged and looked around for a suitable campsite. Deciding on a fallen tree, he dug out the blankets which had thankfully remained dry and fashioned a lean-to which he staked up with a few stray branches. Mulder was meanwhile divesting himself of his soaked clothing. Skinner had to force himself not to look at his agent. <Not now. Please not now!> He stripped himself and laid out his and Mulder's clothes on the tree in the hope that the rain would not return during the night so they could dry out. He handed Mulder one of the leftover blankets and took the other one himself. The lean-to would be cramped, but possible. Skinner let Mulder have the spot by the tree and crawled in next to him.

They were lying close together, accidentally touching whenever one of them moved. Mulder appeared to be dozing already, but Skinner was not in the frame of mind for sleep. He was getting hard again and couldn't do anything about it. This was simply unbearable. He squirmed in his blanket and once more became aware of Mulder's body smell and it turned him on even more. <Walter, what is the matter with you? This is Mulder, your subordinate, remember? You never sleep with the people in your department. Just what would you do with him anyway?>

He sighed. His mind was convinced that Mulder was the worst possible choice for a lover, but his body had other ideas. It was of the definite opinion that Mulder was perfect because he was sexy, pretty and *here*. <Oh, God.> Skinner turned again, trying to get more comfortable and found himself face to face with Mulder, his erection digging into the other man's stomach.

Mulder's eyes were open and he looked amused. "Sir, just how happy are you to see me?"

Skinner was at a loss. What to say? Then he realized that his hard-on was not the only one in the lean-to. Inside Mulder's blanket there was a similar bulge. Skinner swallowed hard and took a chance.

"Probably just as glad as you are to see me, Mulder." He paused. " Are you going to do something with that thing or shall I do it?"

Mulder's eyes widened slightly and he grinned. Then he leaned forward to kiss Skinner on the lips. It was a gentle kiss, one that was merely checking the territory. When Skinner kissed him back, Mulder's tongue became bolder. He broke it first and invited the other man. "Be my guest."

Skinner smiled and kissed Mulder again, running his hands over the slender body . Mulder's skin felt cool from the rain. <I'll have you warm in no time.> He traced the curve of the hip downwards and let his fingers tease the soft pubic hair on the belly. Mulder was breathing deeply, obviously enjoying the sensation. Skinner stroked the inner thighs, gently scratching with his nails. Mulder gasped and grew even harder. <So sensitive.> Skinner teased the younger man, fondling the area around his cock, but never touching it directly. <Let's see just how long you can stand it.>

Mulder knew he was being teased. Skinner was touching him but skirted the thing Mulder needed to have touched the most. <So you want to tease me? Let's give you a taste of you own medicine.> He put his arms around Skinner's shoulders and raked his nails over his back and lower. The hands hesitated on his balls, then resumed movement a little faster. Mulder took this as an encouraging sign and ran his hands over the AD's hips. They were very nicely shaped, lean but with a fine bone structure. <Shall we up the ante?> He lowered his hands further to cup Skinner's buttocks. Small and muscular. Skinner was starting on his cock now, caressing it ever so lightly, but it was the feathery touch that brought Mulder nearly to the edge. Skinner eased up upon hearing his moan, drawing it out, waiting for Mulder's arousal to ebb a little before he stared again. Mulder's hands were gripping his upper arms as he remained on the brink of orgasm for a few intense seconds, the he relaxed and pulled Skinner's face up to kiss again.

Skinner thrust his tongue into Mulder's mouth, running it across his teeth. He wished he had replaced the condoms in his first aid kit, but he hadn't gotten a round to it after using up the last one. Well, there would be time for that later, if Mulder didn't decide that he hated Skinner's guts now. <I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.> He felt that Mulder had calmed down enough and moved down again. Oh, yes, his agent had talented hands, the way he was caressed his shoulder blades. Skinner grinned inwardly as the hands drew up to hold his head, pushing it down to his crotch. He obliged Mulder, slowly licking up and down Mulder's erection, then taking it swiftly into his mouth as far as it would go. The simple act was too much for Mulder, who tightened his grip on Skinner's head, screamed once and came into Skinner's mouth, spurting frantically. Skinner held him absolutely still, waiting for him to ride it out. When he felt Mulder relax he swallowed the semen and licked the rest of it from the softening cock, letting no drop go to waste. He was rewarded by some gasped incoherencies from Mulder. <Liked that, did you?>

Mulder had never in his entire life had a lover who continued sucking him after he had come. The experience was incredible. His cock was so much more sensitive after orgasm, he had thought he would come again only from that. Either that or die. When he could speak again, he looked down on Skinner with some surprise.

"Whoever taught you to do that?"

Skinner grinned at him like the cat that ate the canary and pulled himself up to kiss him, to share the taste. "Just something I picked up."

Mulder thought he would ask again later, seeing as Skinner was still unsatisfied. But he was a little hesitant about giving head. "Um, you know, I haven't done this before?"

That seemed to amuse Skinner. "Don't worry, just do what you like yourself and I'll let you know when you're doing it right." He leaned back to give Mulder access to his own erection.

Mulder inched down and took a good look at Skinner. He wasn't too long, but somewhat wide. He touched it carefully, circling the crown with one finger. He teased the slit with his fingertip, eliciting a low moan from Skinner. He rubbed the cock between his palms, then allowed the touch to become lighter until he knew Skinner had to strain to feel anything. Then he pinched the base roughly, unexpectedly. Skinner arched his back, and cried out. Mulder's hands left the erection and moved down to Skinner's balls. He rolled them around, moved back to the cock and began the game anew. After another repetition, Skinner came, his hands digging into Mulder's shoulders. When the spasm had subsided, Skinner pulled Mulder into his arms and held him closely. He was stroking Mulder's hair when they both fell asleep.

When Skinner woke up, it was to the unfamiliar sensation of someone nestled in his arms, out in the open. He looked down at a dark head and remembered the night before. <Oh, that's right, Mulder and I had a spot of extramarital sex. A particularly fine one, I recall.> He smiled, contend to just rest here with Mulder close. <Wonder where that came from? Not that it matters. I just hope he's not freaked out by what's happened.>

The man in his arms stirred and Skinner was amused to see Mulder first reach for a weapon that wasn't there, then stare at Skinner's arms, and relax with a groan.

"I wouldn't have thought that was so bad."

"It wasn't," Mulder said, "Not at all. Just a little - unexpected?"

"Possibly." Skinner lazily stroked Mulder's chest. "So, do you want to talk about it? What we do now?"

"Good question. Well - I do know that I don't want it to end here."

Skinner had to laugh at that. "Mulder, Mulder, neither do I. We'll have to keep it quiet, though."

"That's not hard to do. Just keep yelling at me in the office and kiss it better at night." They both laughed. "Nobody'd believe it anyway." Mulder got serious. "Walter, there's just one thing we can never do. If we have this relationship, it can't be carried into the office. That's the one condition I insist on. If you don't think it would work, let's stop it right here."

"You're right. I have had a lover at work before and it was a major bad idea. So that's fine by me." He played with Mulder's hair, scratching over his stubble. <That's one thing out of the way.>

Mulder squirmed in his arms, making himself more comfortable. "That's all settled, then."

Skinner started. "No, you don't. We still have to get to work, remember? If we both are late, someone's bound to notice. Come up." He rose and tried out his clothes. Dry enough to wear and not get pneumonia. <Thank God. If we had to wait longer, we would never have gotten out of here. He's not just named Fox, he is one, a sexy one.>

"That sort of up wasn't what I had in mind."

Skinner was getting dressed, stopped and shot Mulder a sharp look. "What does Scully have to say about your double entendres?"

"She likes them better than my video collection. That's not at all ambiguous." At Skinner's questioning look, he explained, "It's porn, nearly all of it."

"Nearly all? What's left? Alien autopsy videos from Fox network?" He resumed his preparations and Mulder joined him.

"Oh, just six tapes or so. And a few movies, too. Basic Instinct, 9.5 Weeks, that Madonna thing, you know. I've got all of Star Trek, though."

"I knew that just-in-case note had to be inspired by something." Skinner handed Mulder a by now rather stale sandwich and took one for himself.

"Life imitates art. Well-known concept." Mulder washed the food down with water. Anything to mask the taste of stale bread. Skinner tasted better.

"I can see I'll never get bored with you."

"Walter, how long can we make this last?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Let's just take it one step at a time. We will get caught someday, but until that day I intend to enjoy it -and you - to the hilt." He took Mulder into his arms and touched his lips the younger man's forehead. "We can worry about this later, Mulder. Come on."

Mulder sighed and put on his backpack. As they moved off, the conversation continued.

"You know, now that we have been in bed, you really don't have to call me Mulder anymore. Fox is okay."

"I thought you hated that name?"

"I do, but I'll have it from a lover. Which is a post for which you definitely qualify."

"Glad to hear it." Pause. "I could think up a nickname for you."

"A different animal?"

"Why not? And just why did your parents call you Fox, of all things?"

"My father had something about foxes. I'm just glad my mother didn't name me. She had something about owls. That's worse."

"Owl Mulder? Doesn't bear thinking about. Everyone in my family is named something common."

"Cecilia is common?"

"Not her, my sister changed her mind. Cecilia was going to be named Emily. And Sabrina, my older niece, was supposed to be Anna, but her husband put his foot down."

"Why are we talking about names when we could be flirting?"

"More double entendres?"

"And maybe some quick fondling on the way?"

"Fox, careful, oh -"

They did not make it back by Sunday morning. It was a quarter past three when Skinner unlocked the door to his apartment and called out to Cecilia. She wasn't there anymore, but there was a note taped to the refrigerator saying that she had gone home to run errands for Mom but would be back later. Skinner had suggested that Mulder come with him to clean up and have a real dinner. Mulder was rather hoping that dinner wasn't all that Skinner had in mind.

Mulder looked around Skinner's place with some curiosity. It was a nice apartment, big enough for two, he thought. But Skinner was obviously living alone. There was hardly any clutter except for take-out cartons, a modem attached to a laptop, several science fiction novels, and an issue of Playgirl with Brad Pitt on the cover.

"I hope that's not yours or we ought to forget about the whole idea."

Skinner glared at him, then at the magazine. "All this must be Cecilia's. And I thought she was joking when she said she'd have a party." He fished a printout of something he did not want to know about from under the sofa cushions and shook his head. "If I didn't know for sure she's family..."

Mulder laughed. "Well, how about we just forget about the mess and check out what she's done to your bedroom?" He waggled his eyebrows at his lover.

"Good question. We might find anything in there. Come here."

He pulled Mulder into his arms and into the den.

Cecilia whistled to herself when she returned to the apartment. Uncle Wally was bound to be back by now with his shining armor, having rescued the fair maiden. <Oh, yes, Uncle, you are one of life's fixers. He must be real good. Maybe if I visit you at the office I could sneak a look at him. He must be really cute. And my dear uncle wouldn't say a word about him. True love, maybe? I'll find out. Fox Mulder. Cute name. I just knew I wish what he looks like.>

She abandoned the whistle in favor of a hum and dumped her bag on the couch when she heard something from the bedroom. A quick look around told her that Skinner was indeed home and had not bothered to unpack. She shrugged and went to the bedroom to ask how things had turned out. Not bothering to knock ("Why, have you got anything to hide, Uncle?"), she opened the door and the first thing she saw was a dark brown head going down on her uncle. Whose eyes were closed in bliss. Who was stroking that dark head and the nice shoulders with both his hands. And playing with that hair.

Cecilia stood in the door frame, realizing that neither of the two men had noticed her there. They were still at it, Skinner making low noises deep in his chest. <Uncle Wally is a moaner?> She cleared her throat, causing the lovers to start. Skinner sat up, classic look of shock and horror on his face, with a side order of outrage. Mulder turned, going red in the face - a nice color, she thought. <And a nice face. He really is cute. No wonder Uncle Wally likes him.>

"Don't mind me. I'll wait outside till you're good and ready. Have fun." She grinned at Skinner's expression which was rapidly turning dark. "Oh, my mistake, you were having fun already. I'll leave you to it then. Do carry on." She was out of the room before Skinner could throw something at her, which in his present mood he might actually do.

Still grinning madly, she went into the kitchen and took one of her Cherry Cokes out of the refrigerator. She heated the leftovers of the newest take-out box in the microwave and sat down for a wait. After about five minutes, Skinner emerged from the bedroom wearing sweatpants and glaring at her. She smiled at him nicely and offered him her Coke. He drowned it and crushed the can.

"Cecilia, if I thought I could get away with it, I wouldn't be breaking this can but your neck."

"I didn't know you had him with you. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Not even Mom. How would I do that anyway, when I'm at Quantico?"

Skinner's face set into a snarl. She kept smiling. After a pause, he let out his breath. "Okay. I'll convince your mother to let you go. If you cover for us."

"You've got a deal. He's much cuter than your normal boyfriends, too. More class."

"Like you saw that much of them. Or of him."

"So ask him out and introduce me. If he dumps you I might be interested."

"Hands off, kiddo, he's all mine. And you're too young for him anyway."

"Sure, I don't poach."

"That's all settled then." He leaned back and helped himself to a spoonful of her sesame chicken.

"So -" she paused.

Skinner looked at her "So what?"

"So how is the man in bed?"

She almost made it behind the couch before he caught up with her.

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