Title: Accounting for Dummies (1/?)
Author: Velvet
Date: November 1999
Summary: Mulder's accounting skills leave something to be desired, so Skinner helps out. Not really much about accounting, I swear!! Heh heh!
Rating: PG-13 (for now!)
Archive: Anywhere you want, just let me know!
Disclaimer: I don't own them in Real Life, just in my mind. CC, Fox, 1013, blah, blah, blah.

This story came to me when I was suffering through a Accounting class I have to take for work. It's dedicated to Blue and Jadzia with hope that they will forgive me for taking so long with it!! (Blue, you can stop crying now! Oh, and Jadzia, I'm working on your story, I swear!) No beta were harmed in the making of this fic. You have only Bill Gates and me to blame!!


Accounting for Dummies
Part 1

As Mulder walked into his office on a crisp Friday morning in October, he had a strong feeling that something was different. Setting his briefcase on his desk, he glanced suspiciously around. The office definitely had the look of being ransacked, but then that was his own doing. He considered it his unique filing method. Sure, there were piles and stacks everywhere, but he could lie his hands on whatever he was looking for with his eyes closed.

Of course, Scully didn't have that superhuman ability, so she didn't appreciate the method to his madness. But he had a reprieve from any slings or arrows she might throw at him over the latest mess. She had left Wednesday for the West Coast to visit darling, lovable Billy-boy for an extended weekend, leaving Mulder to spend two dreary days buried in paperwork.

Not only were there expense reports and such from their latest solved case to sort out, Mulder also had the unenviable task of preparing the budget reports for his department. Apparently, Skinner had been doing them for him up to this point, but finally got fed up with it and was making Mulder do them himself. He had told Mulder that they had better look as good as they had in the past because Mulder was going to have to present them to the Budgetary Committee himself.

Mulder had the ones from the past years to look over, but he couldn't make heads or tails of any of the numbers. So, he had decided to just do it his own way and had been up until one o'clock that morning crunching numbers and cooking the books. Skinner had said he wanted it by nine A.M. to review it. It made Mulder feel like a child getting his homework checked, but in this case he was glad Skinner had insisted. He didn't want to look like a fool in that meeting, or risk the X-Files not getting the funding they would need because he knew nothing about accounting.

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A stack of paper landed with a loud thump on top of the report Walter Skinner was looking over. He glanced up at a grinning Fox Mulder.

"I really burned the midnight oil on that, sir," he said plopping down in the chair across from Skinner. "I hope you appreciate it."

Skinner gave him a baleful look. "Since I've been doing it for you for the past five years, I think I know what's involved."

"Yes, sir," Mulder said, seemingly contrite.

Skinner started glancing over the reports in front of him. He slowed down and read again. He didn't know what language this was in, but it sure as hell wasn't going to make sense to the committee or anyone else with any background in accounting.

He sighed.

"Mulder, this is a mess. Did you honestly think you were done with this?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"The question is what's right with it. I assume you've never had an accounting class in your life, and quite frankly, I'm surprised your personal finances aren't in dire straights. I take it you've never been audited?"

"I have an accountant who I pay a large sum of money handle all that for me. All I have to do is keep everything in folders by month, give them to him when he asks, and pay him whatever he demands. I think his kids are going to Harvard now because of me."

Skinner just shook his head.

"I don't have time to go through all this right now with you, Mulder. I'll help you out, since you obviously need it, but I won't just do it for you anymore."

He looked at Mulder and frowned.

"Unfortunately, I have plans this weekend that I will not change. You will just have to tag along."

"But sir! I had plans of my own this weekend."

"The key word there Mulder is HAD. I had plans too, but since mine have been irrevocably changed, so have yours."

Mulder rose quickly from his seat and opened his mouth to start in, but Skinner just shot him a particularly deadly look that stopped him in mid-rant.

"I'll pick you up at you place at nine sharp. I expect you to be waiting with enough casual clothes to get you through the weekend. That will be all."

Skinner managed to contain his grin until he heard his door close behind Mulder.

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Mulder was standing outside his apartment building with a bag at his feet at 8:50, staring up at the sky. The lights of the city cast an orange haze that prevented him from seeing any stars. He blew out a frustrated puff of air. It was cold enough out that he could see his breath.

A sleek Chevy Silverado pulled up to the curb right in front of him. The smoky passenger side window slid down, and there was Mulder's boss looking more relaxed in jeans and a T-shirt than Mulder had ever seen him.

"Hop in, Mulder. We've got 'miles to go before we sleep.'" Skinner said so cheerfully that Mulder just stared at him for a few seconds in wonder before opening the door and hauling himself up into the full sized truck.

They had been driving for about an hour before Mulder spoke.

"Can I ask where we're headed to, sir?"

"First, of all its Walter. I'm not going to be able to relax if you're calling me sir all the time. And yes you may ask, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you. In fact, we're taking the long way to where we're going so that you won't know where it is exactly and come bother me when I want to get away."

Mulder grinned a bit at that, leaned back in his seat, and promptly fell asleep. He had been up late the night before, and was thoroughly exhausted. <Besides>, he was going to get to spend the weekend away from D.C. and very close to the man he had secretly fantasized about for years. Of course, it would be even better if he thought he had the slightest chance of acting on those fantasies, but Mulder couldn't really expect those desires to ever come true.

If he had opened his eyes then, instead of drifting off, what he would have seen would definitely have changed his mind. The object of those desires was glancing at him with a very soft expression that belied his normally tough exterior. The look in Walter Skinner's eyes at that moment was that of a man deeply and truly in love.

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When they arrived at the cabin, Skinner unloaded the truck before gently shaking Mulder awake.

"Mulder, we're here."

"Huh? Timizit?" Fox mumbled incoherently.

"Past midnight. Come on, there's a bed made up, but I'm not carrying you to it. Come on, Mulder, wake up a little," Skinner replied, shaking his head and smiling softly. Mulder apparently didn't wake up easily. It was definitely an endearing trait. He was rubbing at his eyes with a fist and stretching the other arm. Unfortunately, he was still half in the truck so his stretch ended rather abruptly when his hand hit the windshield with a hard thump. Even that didn't bring him around totally. He just looked reproachfully at the truck, as if to say, 'what was that for'?

Skinner tried hard not to laugh as he helped Mulder hop out of the truck. In his somnolent state, Mulder misjudged the distance to the ground and nearly fell. Skinner caught his waist and hauled him upright. Whether it was almost falling, or the close proximity to the object of his affections, Mulder suddenly found himself very awake and in the arms of Walter Skinner. Time seemed to slow around them, as they just stared at one another, neither moving nor speaking. Finally, Mulder realized how the situation might seem to his boss and stepped back.

"Sorry, sir. I should have told you that I wake up badly."

"What did I say about calling me sir? But I'll be sure to remember that for future reference," Skinner said with a grin.

Mulder just gaped at his back as he turned and headed to the cabin. Did that really just happen? Had he really just seen...something when he was staring into Skinner's eyes? And what the hell did he mean by future reference? Mulder was getting that same feeling that there was something changed that he had felt earlier that morning. Oh well, he shrugged to himself. Only one way to find out what the hell was going on here, and he started toward the log house.

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As Mulder walked in the front door of the cabin, he saw that Skinner had his back to him and was laying a fire in a beautiful grey stone fireplace. His eyes roamed about the rest of the large living room he had walked into and was blown away by the natural beauty of the place. Everywhere he looked, he saw gleaming wood, from the walls and beams to the table and chairs. The floors were even hardwood with soft, thick looking rugs spread around. Skinner was even crouched on a bearskin rug as he tended the fire. As Mulder looked up, he could see that the ceiling almost mirrored the floor with its narrow slats of wood. There was a landing that stretched from the left side of the room where he saw the stairs leading upward around to about half the length of the house. Under the landing in front of him, he saw an open dining area and he wandered back towards it. Moving to the dining room, he saw a hallway to his left. As he stepped closer to the wooden table and chairs, he saw the kitchen was to the right of the dining room. He came back as he saw Skinner finish with the fire and look up at him.

"My study is down this hall, and there are two bedrooms with their own baths upstairs. Your room is to the left as you go up the stairs and mine is on the other end. It's not huge, but it's big enough that I don't feel cramped."

"It's very nice, sir," Mulder said, still a bit awestruck.

"Yeah, my father and I did a lot of the work ourselves. He was very interested in carpentry and woodworking, and I guess I caught the bug from him," Skinner said. "We worked on it a lot when I got back from Vietnam. It was good therapy."

Mulder just nodded, wishing he had such fond memories of his father. But he wasn't going to sink into that pitfall of depression. Not when he was all alone is this incredibly romantic setting with Skinner. Now he just had to think of some way to see if Skinner felt at all attracted to him. After that comment by the truck, Mulder's hopes were starting to climb. After all Skinner had invited him out here, hadn't he?

His thoughts were interrupted then as Skinner walked toward him. He was looking right into Mulder's eyes and for a moment Mulder felt like Skinner was looking into his head and reading his mind. As Skinner continued to close in on him, Mulder's heart began to race and his eyes widened. Could Skinner really want him? Why else would he be invading his personal space. Mulder parted his lips slightly and relaxed into what he hoped was a provocative stance. Just as he thought Skinner was going to lean in and kiss him he felt something hard poke him in the stomach.

He looked down and saw Skinner holding out a book for him to take.

"Financial Accounting, sir?" Mulder asked, his voice husky and disappointed.

"That is the reason you're here, is it not?" Skinner asked with a ghost of a smile stealing across his face. Mulder could swear Skinner knew exactly what he had been waiting for, and it sure as hell wasn't some damn book on accounting. He took the book from Skinner.

"You can use my study or look it over in your room, your choice," Skinner continued. "I think that can wait until tomorrow though. It's late and I'm sure you'll want to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." He turned and started up the stairs, with Mulder following behind in sullen silence.

End Part 1

Well??? Do I continue? Will Mulder get laid?? Does Skinner really want him?
Let me know what you think!!
Velvet0023@aol.com

 


 

Acounting for Dummies Part 2
by Velvet
Warnings, disclaimers, and such in part 1
Too tired to repeat them all
I will say there's some NC-17 material in this part, for the faint of heart.
This is for Blue, Jadzia, and all you super nice people who gave me feedback!

 


 

The next morning Mulder was awakened by Skinner poking his head in the door to his bedroom.

"Let's go, Mulder. If you want to get that book read enough to understand what I'm going to show you, you'd better get a move on."

Mulder groaned. It was almost torture. Here he was, alone for a weekend in a quiet, romantic place with a man he'd been lusting after for years, and he was going to have to spend it learning accounting. There had to be something dreadfully wrong with this world!

He got up, showered, shaved, dressed and then headed downstairs. It was a crisp, sunny day out; perfect weather for being out enjoying the changing colors of the leaves. But no, he was stuck inside learning how to do something he was pretty sure he didn't have any real use for.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could smell breakfast being cooked. He stopped and inhaled deeply. Mmmmm, eggs, bacon, and coffee at least. And maybe, he sniffed again, yes that definitely smelled like pancakes. He eagerly bolted to the kitchen.

And as he stood in the doorway, he paused and stared. There was Skinner, turned away from him, working at the stove, clad in snug, faded denim that hugged his ass in a most delectable way, and clung to his long, long legs in a way that made Mulder very hungry. But even thought of pancakes was thrust aside as his eyes drifted back up and found an incredibly well-muscled torso sheathed in a tight, white T-shirt that defined the many muscles that were working as this gorgeous man cooked.

Just as Mulder was aware that his mind wasn't the only portion of his anatomy responding to this delicious sight, Skinner turned toward a counter and saw Mulder standing there.

"Good morning," he said, much too cheerfully for eight o'clock on a Saturday. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Ummm, scrambled, I guess," Mulder said, trying to remember the last time he had eaten breakfast.

"You want some cheese in them?" Skinner asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Mulder frowned, then. "Why exactly are you cooking me breakfast, sir?"

"Your mind can't function well on an empty stomach, Mulder. And stop calling me sir."

Skinner gave Mulder his choice of the New York Times or the Washington Post, and they sat in a companionable silence, eating and reading. Mulder was commenting to Skinner on the sports section when he realized how comfortable the two of them were together. Here they were, chatting about which college teams were going to win today and who they were rooting for, as if they had been friends for years instead of boss and subordinate. But then he thought about that again; about how many things Skinner had done for Scully and him, and he realized that they really were friends. Why else would Skinner have done the things he had? It went way past the fact that he respected their work and wanted them to succeed. In fact, maybe it even went past friendship? Jeez, Mulder, he told himself, quit getting your hopes up. Just be happy with what you've got.

And what he had, he realized after lapsing into silence while he was thinking, turned out to be Skinner's undivided attention. Mulder looked up and saw that Skinner was looking expectantly at him.

"Sorry, I must have zoned there a bit. Did you ask me something, sir?"

"I was just saying that if you wanted to use the study, I'll do my paperwork here at the table. I think you'll find chapters four and five of the book I gave you the most helpful. And if you still can't figure out last years' reports after reading them, let me know and I'll give you a hand."

Mulder frowned, but went upstairs to retrieve the book Skinner had given him the night before. When he reached the landing he could swear he heard a quiet chuckle coming from downstairs. As he passed by on his way to the study, he saw Skinner had spread his paperwork out over the kitchen table and was making his way through one of the stacks.

Well, at least I'm not the only one doing something boring on a nice day. He spread his papers out on Skinner's large desk and leaned back in the leather chair with the dreaded accounting book in his lap.

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He was almost done with the second of the two chapters when the study door opened. He looked up to see Skinner coming toward him with a determinedly lustful look in his eye. Skinner picked the book up off his lap and threw it aside. He growled and pulled Mulder up out of the chair. Mulder was in his arms and pressed against his chest before he knew it, and as Skinner leaned in to kiss him, he paused and whispered, "Wake up, Mulder."

Mulder jerked and opened his eyes to see that he was lying face down on the first page of that damned accounting book. Skinner was gently shaking him awake.

"Come on, Mulder, wake up. It's lunchtime. I brought you a sandwich."

God damn it! I can't even get any in my dreams, Mulder grumbled to himself.

Skinner was chuckling. "What's so funny, sir?" Mulder asked, none too happily.

"Oh, I was just looking to see where you were at. Looks like you'll need coffee if you're ever going to get through that. I bring you a cup." Skinner went back out and came back a minute later with a cup of strong, black coffee.

"Thanks, sir. I guess I'd better get back to it."

"You and me both, Mulder. Luckily, I only have two more stacks to get through. And stop calling me sir," he said as he left the room.

Mulder got to work, taking notes and studying the different methods of working up budgets and the principles behind them all. When he looked out the window, he was surprised to see it was dark, and it was almost six p.m. He got up, stretched, and then wandered back into the kitchen. Skinner was cooking again, pulling what looked to be homemade biscuits from the oven and stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"How does stew sound?" he asked Mulder.

"Sounds good."

"Want a beer?" he inquired as he opened the fridge. "You've got to drink beer with stew; they just go together."

"Really?" Mulder asked, amused. "Is that like pizza and beer?"

"Exactly," Skinner replied. "You want to get some plates out? We'll just dish up from the stove."

Skinner split open two biscuits and laid them on a plate, then spooned some of the thick beef stew over them. He handed Mulder the plate. As Skinner was fixing himself another plate, Mulder grabbed two more beers and headed to the table. He dug in and found the food to be just as good as breakfast had been.

"Can I just say, sir, that you are one hell of a cook?"

"You can if you quit calling me sir, but stew and pancakes aren't much to base that on." Skinner grinned at him. Mulder felt his heart, and yes, to be completely honest, his cock, jump whenever Skinner smiled at him like that. There was just something in the dark brown eyes that opened up when he was smiling. Mulder thought he could see something, some feeling, but he wanted to see it so badly, that he wasn't sure if he could believe what he was seeing or just seeing what he wanted to believe.

They both had seconds and cleaned up, saving the left over biscuits for breakfast.

"Did you get those chapters read?" Skinner inquired.

"Yeah," Mulder replied, "but some of the stuff on those old reports still isn't making sense to me."

"Well, why don't you bring them out here, and I'll see if I can't explain it to you."

Mulder brought the reports out and they went over them for almost an hour; Mulder asking questions and Skinner answering them. They had been going over one particularly confusing figure for about ten minutes, and Mulder was getting more and more frustrated.

"I don't know. I see what you're saying, but it doesn't really make sense to me."

"Accounting doesn't really have a lot to do with common sense, Mulder. It has more to do with making things difficult for people who aren't accountants. But once you can speak their language, they no longer have the upper hand."

"I see you point, sir," Mulder replied. So that was why Skinner wanted him to understand this garbage.

"Mulder, what am I going to have to do to get you to stop calling me sir?" Skinner growled as he moved to stand in front of him. Mulder instantly realized his mistake and thought he had worn Skinner's patience out completely. He didn't blame him; it wasn't like he was real quick to understand this stuff. While he was thinking this, Skinner had stepped even closer, and Mulder suddenly found himself pulled into a strong embrace and kissed so completely and thoroughly that he could feel his knees trying to give out.

When Skinner finally pulled back, and he was able to breathe again, Mulder panted, "Well, *Walt*, that would definitely take care of it."

Skinner laughed as Mulder moved in to continue that incredible kiss. They pulled each other so close that there wasn't a glimpse of light between them. Mulder couldn't believe his luck as he felt a strong hand slide under his shirt and skim up his bare back, pulling him closer yet. Obviously Skinner had been sending him signals this whole time and had finally decided to act. He found himself arching his back, trying to push his chest closer still, as if his own body was struggling to meld with the other. Skinner slipped his thigh between his spread legs and rubbed Mulder's swollen erection through his jeans. He moaned and bucked hard, almost dislodging them, but Skinner just pulled him in tighter. He had been dreaming of this moment for years, and he didn't know if he could control himself for much longer. God, he thought to himself, I'm going to come right here in my jeans if we don't stop soon.

He pulled back enough to look at Skinner. "Walter," he panted. "If we don't slow down this is going to be over before it even gets started."

Skinner leaned in for a light kiss. "Oh, I think I can get more than one round out of you, Mulder." He said lazily as he pulled him in close once again. Mulder just groaned and gave himself up to it. One of the hands had moved from his back and insinuated itself between them. Skinner continued to plunder Mulder's mouth while his hand slowly moved down his bare chest to pop the button of his jeans. He was moaning almost continuously into Skinner's mouth as the head of his cock was stroked through the denim. He was bucking into the hand when it backed off suddenly. He had just groaned in frustration when it was back and slowly but firmly stroking the underside of his cock through the denim prison. The other hand held him still so he couldn't buck his hips, and he was slowly but continuously being tortured with firm even strokes. He was gasping for breath now, and Skinner let his mouth go to nip his way to an ear lobe. Mulder's moaning was steady and continuous now, in time with the strokes, which were slowly speeding up. Just when he thought he couldn't bear it anymore, the tongue that had been torturing his lobe, thrust in and out of his ear and his cock was grasped trough the denim and stroked hard and fast. And he was coming hard and long, hearing some kind of a muffled keening before his mouth was covered by Skinner's again and the noise was gone.

Skinner was holding him upright as he slumped bonelessly against him, trying to get his breath back. He nuzzled into Skinner's neck and sighed happily.

"God, that was great, Walt," he said dreamily.

"Well, I think I enjoyed it about as much as you did, but that was just to take the edge off. We aren't even close to being done yet," Skinner growled as he started running his hands up and down Mulder's ass. Mulder could feel his cock respond to the verbal and physical stimulation.

"Can I get out of these clothes first? They're a bit sticky."

Skinner chuckled. "Why, I'd be more than happy to help you out of them," he said silkily.

Mulder shivered and then Skinner was carefully unzipping his jeans and sliding them down along with his boxers, while Mulder hastily tore off his rugby shirt.

His hands moved hungrily to unfasten Skinner's jeans and Skinner pulled his own shirt over his head. They quickly divested of the rest of their clothes, and Skinner was backing him into the living room, kissing him deeply as they went.

Skinner eased Mulder back onto the bear skin rug in front of the fireplace.

End Part 2

 

I know, I know, not nearly enough, but my own accounting book calls. I've got a test tomorrow, and since I don't have Skinner to explain it to ME, I've got to get studying. What happens on the bearskin rug will definitely be told tomorrow!!