TITLE: A Little Christmas Cheer - Krycek Style
AUTHOR: Sin [sin@darkmage.net]
DATE: 17/12/2001
PAIRING: M/K
ARCHIVE: RatB. DitB. If you want it, feel free. Just let me know.
RATING: PG-13 - Mainly for the use of good old fashioned Anglo-Saxon terminology.
SPOILERS: Everything aside from the episode that didn't happen.
DISCLAIMER: Definitely not mine, so if you want to take them back please do.
THANX: K for the beta, as always.
NOTES: For the Australians out there you will probably recognise the tv ad that a certain section of this story is taken from.


The universe is a place of balance. That's something I've worked out over the years. For every good thing that happens, there's an equal and opposite bad thing. We all have blessings and curses in our lives and that is something that we have to learn to live with. Look at me.

Bad: Had to betray the man I loved.

Good: Get to kiss the sexiest man in the world.

Bad: Lost an arm.

Good: Get to sleep with the sexiest man in the world.

Bad: Died and was resurrected.

Good: Have the love of the sexiest man in the world.

Can you see where I'm going with this? It's all about balance. There's only one problem. The bitch of a thing about balance is that you never know when that opposing event is going to hit you. You think you're prepared but, in truth, you never are. Some days you can just go with the flow and that's okay but others, well, you just don't have time to deal with the situation that fate has handed you. You need to move through it and get back to the good stuff.

I think that's enough of a prelude. Now for the explanation of why I'm standing here with a half gallon of milk in my hand wishing I'd brought my gun.

We ran out of eggnog.

We, who? Oh, Mulder and I. Haven't you been paying attention? You know you shouldn't be so distracted by what you see on television, it rots your brain. I can think of a lot of better ways you could be spending your time if you want to do that, you only need ask and I'll give you some suggestions.

So, Mulder and I ran out of eggnog. Well, actually, it wasn't just us. It was Scully and Skinner and the kids, Doggett, Reyes and the Lone Gunmen. It was our turn this year to hold the annual pre-Christmas drinks and celebration of a war well won. That's not as cosy as it sounds. It's really not that easy to have all of us in the same room, especially when it's combined with alcohol. There is still bad blood between us, too many things have been done on both sides for it to ever be completely perfect, but we have all come to a comfortable arrangement. No bickering, no snide comments, no insults and no talking about certain subjects at any time.

I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, and I'll deny it if it ever gets out, but I really like having them around. When you spend as much time as I have on the run or working in the shadows, you don't have the opportunity to make friends and to actually have them after being alone for so long is something very special. Fox knows, but then he knows me even when I don't know myself. So if you tell him, it won't be anything new.

Oh, the eggnog. The party was in full swing, Scully's rugrats were playing by the fire. Rugrats, plural? Don't you ever pay attention? Scully has two children. William you should already know about. Her other son, Tyler, is Skinner's by IVF. She really is a wonderful mother, you know. I think Will gave her a taste for it. After she and Walter got married they decided to try it again.

Personally, I think it was a good thing for both of them. Walter has mellowed quite a bit as a dad, and Scully needed another child to offset her obsessive protectiveness of Will. Not that it wasn't warranted there for a time. It's just that even after the danger passed, she couldn't let go of it and I know that it worried Fox. But things turned out for the best, so that's a good thing, right?

Anyway, party was in full swing, everyone was getting nicely toasted. Except Scully, who was designated driver for her family, and me who was backup in case we couldn't get cabs by the time everyone else needed to get home.

It's always entertaining to see everyone loosen up a bit, to see a part of those little inner selves that we all normally hide away come out to play. John loses that ramrod posture and sprawls on furniture, Walter smiles a lot, Byers starts to babble and Frohike becomes almost courtly. I like to watch the changes in people as their inhibitions lower, I think that it comes from being on the outside for so long.

I may like watching those guys, but I love to watch Fox once he gets a bit of alcohol into him. There's something almost fluid about him when he's had a few drinks. His movements smooth out and flow together into one damn sexy display of manhood, is all I can say. The alcohol, combined with the candy he's consumed earlier in the guise of 'Just making sure the kids don't get too hyped up, Scully,' had given him those slightly flushed cheeks that do wonderful things for my libido, mainly because they remind me of how he looks after sex with that same rosy glow about him.

So, there we were, relaxing into the Christmas spirit when my secret recipe eggnog ran out for want of milk to make more. That's why I'm standing here in the middle of the only store I could find that was open with a half gallon of milk and some gum in my hand and an itchy trigger finger.

All because some fucking asshole has decided that the store looks like a good place to get some extra cash.

For fuck's sake! What kind of low-life robs a place on Christmas Eve? I know I'm probably not one to talk, but I do have some common decency. You don't shoot up churches or other holy places, you don't kill children - okay, threaten, yes, but I was never going to go through with it anyway, and I did the only thing I could to protect Dmitri - and you don't hold up a convenience store on Christmas fucking Eve.

I have a passle of FBI agents and hackers back at my place who are waiting on eggnog. I don't have time for this shit!

Watching his movements as he waved me to stand closer to him, I noticed a couple of things. One, he was alone and two, he was nervous.

A fucking amateur.

This just gets worse. Remember that thing I said before about the opposing forces? Ding, ding. Looks like one just decided to rise up and bite me on the ass. Rolling my eyes heavenward I send a silent curse to the universe for it's appalling timing.

At any other time, I probably would've stood back and waited for our fledgling armed robber to get his cash and run, but like I said before - I don't have time for this!

His concentration is primarily focused on the guy behind the counter, probably because he's trying to get the register open. All the better for me.

My options are pretty limited. I don't have my gun, he's armed and all I've got is a half gallon of milk. Oh well, we make do with what we're given and anything can be a weapon if it's used properly.

You know, it's amazing that with just the right amount of force applied behind it, a half gallon of milk makes a great billy club. One whack across the back of the head with it and the stupid idiot goes down for the count. The stunned look on the cashier's face makes me smile as I drop a couple of dollars on the counter.

"You might want to call the police, you know."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, man. You gonna hang around?"

"No, I've got somewhere more important to be," I say and, with a wry smile and a shrug of my shoulders I step over the prone figure of our erstwhile assailant and head out the door.

And I do. I have four FBI agents, three computer hackers, two arguing rugrats and a damn sexy lover hyped up on sugar waiting at home for me - so who the fuck needs a pear tree?


Archived: December 30, 2001