Incident at the KY Corral

by Goblin McGee

Subject: [sm-stories] FIC: Incident at the KY Corral (M/Sk, 1/1) Date: Thursday, May 09, 2002 6:27 PM

Title: Incident at the KY Corral
Author: Goblin McGee
E-mail: goblinmc@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: They belong to CC and 1013. The song "Rawhide", immortalized by Jake and Elwood Blues (and if you don't get that reference what the heck are you doing sitting around reading THIS? Get your ass to the video store!), is the property of someone else who isn't me.
Pairing: M/Sk
Rating: PG-13
Category: Comedy
Summary: A late response to the Slashing Mulder challenge for a story where Mulder shows up at a crime scene in leather pants and tiger underwear then gets called to Skinner's office. It's all here - with a few tweaks. :)
Warning: Includes some slight references to recreational BDSMish tomfoolery and unspeakable mistreatment suffered by an orange. Archive: Slashing Mulder, Ditb, probably elsewhere if asked Date Published: May 9, 2002
Feedback: Yes, please!


The simple cowpoke emerged from the backroom, spurs jangling with each jaunty stride. Black leather chaps encased his long legs, leaving orange tiger striped underwear exposed. He wore a black leather vest over his naked chest. A long, dark whip hung coiled at his side. The outfit was made complete by the red bandanna around his neck and a black cowboy hat. His cheeks were flushed and a light sheen of sweat covered his skin.

The cowboy stopped to survey the room, hands planted on his lean waist. Flashing lights illuminated his form as he checked the flesh on display for a likely steed. A sign overhead announced 'Tenth Annual Macho Man Rodeo Competition'. He was singing under his breath.

"Rollin', rollin', rollin', though the streams are swollen, keep those doggies rollin', rawhiiide. Rain and wind and weather, hell bent for leather - "

"I've been expecting to find you here."

"Deputy Director Lerring!" the cowboy squeaked. There was no mistaking the Deputy Director. If his heavy, florid features hadn't been enough to place him in the other man's memory, the wildly conspicuous Brooks Brothers suit that struggled to confine the bulges of his corpulent body would have been a strong hint. Mulder pulled himself together enough to respond to the words. "You, um, you have?"

"From the moment Skinner explained this undercover op."

"Undercover...yes, right." The agent nervously scanned the club. "Do you know where the Assistant Director has got to?"

"I believe he was going to have a word with the manager of the club. I have to admit it was a good plan of his, this 'blending in to secure the perimeter without alarming the patrons of the establishment'." He cast an eye over Mulder's outfit, relieved to note that the agent had managed to exercise more restraint than Lerring had thought him capable of. Mulder was still too busy looking for his immediate supervisor to notice the scrutiny. "Given the magnitude of this bust, I figured he'd count you in -he compliments your skills so highly."

That drew the younger man's attention. "He does?"

"Absolutely - whenever he's called in to explain why we shouldn't fire you for your latest reckless stunts."

"Oh, yeah." Mulder tried not to look crushed. For an instant old, dangerously insane hopes had leapt into view. The same hopes that had risen up completely inappropriately when the AD's ex-wife said his name used to come up in the Skinner home. He thought he'd managed to kill those ideas off with a hefty dose of reality. Of course his name came up. She must have occasionally asked her husband why he was in a perpetually bad mood and his career had stagnated. The agent heaved a forlorn sigh. If the AD saw him tonight he'd have plenty to talk about - if he wasn't too disgusted to mention it, that is.

A huge hulk in a silver g-string trotted by carrying a smaller man in a fringed shirt and jeans piggyback. The smaller man held a riding crop tucked neatly under his arm. He was tapping his heels against his charge's mammoth thighs. It had to be said that they appeared unalarmed.

"This time he seems to have taken a page out of your book." Lerring shot him a look that fell just short of accusation. Mulder wasn't sure what that was about, but felt obscurely reassured by the familiarity of the Deputy Director's expression. "He has a point, though, I suppose about discretion and unconventional measures being the order of the day, what with the nature and circumstances of this case."

"Yes, um, of course."

"Those three senators we have in custody and the lowlifes here tonight may still be only the tip of the iceberg, but at least we have solid evidence against them."

"Yes."

"Sir, we've escorted all the perps to the parking lot through the side door. Oh hey, Mulder."

"Hey, Peterson." The agent wondered despairingly why abduction experiences never occur when you really need them.

"Has there been a mermaid sighted in the john, or is this the case of the haunted cock ring?"

"He's been on undercover security for Skinner."

"Holy shit! Spooky's gone normal."

Lerring's lips thinned in disapproval. "Agent Peterson, I hardly think levity is appropriate considering the matters we're dealing with tonight."

"Yes, sir." Peterson pulled on a suitably chastened expression.

The FBI men shifted out of the path of a wagon-style chariot pulled by a high stepping youth.

"Now perhaps you could finish with your status report?"

"We have it pretty near wrapped up. The boys are just loading up the last of the evidence. The horse gave us some trouble - we had to put the rubber plants in a separate truck. Rough estimate on the cocaine is 500 kilos. Word is we may have to get surgeons to extract the orange."

"It's an ugly world."

"Ain't that the truth. Should we seize the rod and tackle too?"

"I'd say it's pretty integral to the case, wouldn't you, agent?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir"

"Any news on the landlord?"

"After the search of his offices and interrogation, the boys think he really was ignorant on what was going on in the basement he was renting. From the amount they were willing to pay for a few rooms under a dance club the guy should have suspected something shady, though."

"Turning a blind eye. It makes me sick."

"They'll all have to answer for it now. I'd better get back to the trucks."

Peterson weaved his way off through the festive crowd. Lerring visibly gathered his resolve before turning to Mulder.

"What special input do you have, Mulder?"

After elevation to his current post two years ago, Deputy Director Lerring had come up against a management problem in dealing with the Bureau's most infamous special agent. Unlike Mulder and Skinner type obsessives, he had a life outside the FBI and family to get home to. Meetings that dragged on into the night due to the interruptions of impassioned tirades by the X-Files department head and the inevitable fallout of those tirades were causing trouble. Finally the DD had hit upon a couple of strategies that eased the pressure considerably. Firstly, he discovered that providing occasional openings like this could, to an extent, reduce the frequency and duration of 'Mulder episodes' during meetings. Secondly, at the last office Christmas party he'd managed to prevent Mulder's early departure by describing his wife's struggles to choose which crop circle theory she should subscribe to. Margo had left that party decidedly more sympathetic to his job burdens. Now on the nights he called to let her know that meetings were running unexpectedly long there were special, diet-breaking treats waiting in the refrigerator for him. His hopes were high that if all went according to plan at Brenner's retirement dinner she'd be letting him off the diet altogether. The seating plans would be receiving his personal attention.

Lately the preventative Mulder control campaign had broken down. Being a busy man, he naturally sent to his administrative assistant down to the FBI basement to "survey opinion". Unfortunately, Sean had been on stress leave for the past three weeks, stranding him with a shifty temp who seemed to specialize in well-timed escapes. So he was just going to have to roll up his sleeves and handle the situation personally - until he got Sean on the phone and ordered him to get his whiny ass back at work.

"None, sir."

Lerring's eyebrows shot up. Against his instincts he probed again. "You're sure? No courses of action you want to suggest? Or maybe some unrelated issues weighing on you?" He waited again for the inevitable demands that an exorcism be held on the orange, or accusations against the administration for keeping Amelia Earhart's mummified bat baby hidden from the public.

"No, sir. Nothing to add."

"Huh." Lerring paused, momentarily thrown.

"Erm, yes, well, now that we're done and my cover has been blown, I guess I should be going."

Recovering from his shock, Lerring ordered, "Hold on, Skinner may want to debrief you now."

"I wouldn't want to disrupt him."

"I should call anyway to let him know we're heading out."

"I'm sure he doesn't want to see me. Actually I pretty certain he said he didn't."

The older man flipped out a cell phone. "Skinner? We'll be finished here in a few minutes. I have Mulder here. Did you want to debrief him or should I send him on home? Glad I stopped him then..."

The horror stricken agent missed the rest of the one-sided conversation. His mind swam in panicked circles. He was considering the possibility of making a break for it when Lerring announced, "Good thing I had you wait. He's very interested in getting your report. Says he's borrowing the manager's office - go straight up those stairs."

"I just remembered a file I left at my apartment," Mulder protested desperately. Yes, his apartment where he could change clothes and contact a few sources to try to figure out what the fuck was going on. Or maybe just pack his stuff and move to Borneo. "I'd better go get it first. I'm sure he's really busy up there anyway."

"No, he says he's just checking on a few last things. Leave the file until tomorrow, he's expecting you pronto."

"Oh, well...I guess I'll be going then." With a longing glance at the exit and a doleful one back at Lerring, he drew big breath and started for the stairs.

The Deputy Director shook his head in bemusement as he watched the agent jangle away. That was without a doubt the most sensible encounter he'd ever had with Mulder.

XXXXX

Mounting the stairs with leaden steps, Mulder climbed towards his doom. The ominous door loomed above him on the small, shadowed landing. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he reached for the knob.

Skinner was seated behind a mildly scuffed golden oak desk. The room looked like it would probably feel surprisingly homey and comfortable under less disastrous circumstances. Not at all the kind of seedy dump he would have imagined. The big desk reminded him far too much of work. This was like the dream where he was giving a report and suddenly realized he was naked, only infinitely worse. Right now mere nudity seemed a condition devoutly to be wished, and unlike the dreams there wouldn't be the consolation of hot sex up against the filing cabinet.

Dark, impenetrable eyes glared at the quaking agent from behind glasses. The black sweater stretched over the AD's broad chest was enough to elevate the glare from dangerous to deadly. Skinner looked pissed off. More so than usual even.

Mulder pulled off his hat, holding it in front of his crotch with both hands. He prayed that the move looked like a courtesy. While right now his cowardly balls were trying to crawl up inside his body, it was worth taking precautions around this man.

"Mulder." His name was said in a threatening rumble.

"Sir."

"Maybe you can refresh my memory, because I can't recall inviting you along on this operation."

"No, sir, you didn't, but given the relevance of my expertise - "

"I'm not sure how your expertise is relevant. Care to enlighten me?"

"A better question would be how *isn't* it relevant. That horse may require psychiatric counseling, and the situation with the orange clearly suggests some extreme possibilities."

"So you were already familiar with those details?"

Should he have been? "I had some suspicions."

"I see. And you choose to willfully ignore the fact that these matters do not directly concern our division?"

What the fuck were they doing there then? Well, Mulder knew why he was there, but the rest of it was making less and less sense.

"This sort of case concerns everyone, sir."

"Hmm...yes. So what sort of case would you call this, agent?"

"One of a very high magnitude, sir."

"That goes without saying."

"Yes."

"Yes."

The two stared at each other for a moment. If Skinner was expecting him to risk another comment the AD was shit out of luck.

"Let's get this straight. Having somehow found out that a big, high security case was coming down the pike, you just decided to throw on your spurs and jump in?"

"I guess it's just another one of my reckless stunts, sir"

"Can the shit, Mulder. You don't have any clue what this investigation is about, do you? What's the real reason you're here?"

"Um...an eyewitness report of a mermaid in the toilets?"

"I don't think so."

The hard gaze faded into the weary, frustrated look Mulder knew all too well. "We both know how paranoid you are. Has someone made a suggestion to you that I might be compromised?"

Surprised, the agent stammered, "No, not at all."

"Mulder, I'm prepared to speak to you off the record. Just answer me - did you follow me here?"

"No."

"Then why?"

The younger man slumped in misery. "To enter the rodeo. I heard about it from a friend, and it sounded fun. I was just fooling around."

"Fooling around?" the AD repeated blankly.

"Yeah, it was dumb. Am I dismissed?"

"Need to get back to your rodeo partner?" Skinner inquired in a level tone. It was considerate of the man to wait until he was gone before laughing his guts out.

"No, sir." Might as well get it all out in the open. Could being a lonely pervert be any worse? "I don't have one. If I couldn't find a partner when I got here, I was going to sign up on the singles list to be assigned a match."

"You realize that by now they've probably already made the assignments."

"That's OK. I'm really looking forward to crawling home."

"That would be a shame because this business has left me without a partner too."

"You...what?" The big man was a picture of calm composure. It would take a keen observer familiar with his mannerisms to notice that the movements of a few blunt fingers aligning pencils on the desktop, while far from twitchy, were so atypical that they amounted to full-scale fidgeting. "Sir, why did you come here tonight?"

"To enter the rodeo. And it's Walter. If you want to be my partner, that is."

"Is this a joke?"

"We don't have time to joke. At least the chariot race is the last event. I haven't spent my whole week oiling my harness and polishing my bridle to sit on the sidelines."

He rose from the chair and stripped off the sweater in a fluid movement, revealing that incredible torso. Muscles rippled under thick, wiry hair. Never before seen silver rings shone on his nipples. Mulder's hat suddenly had a lot to hide. Moving away from the desk, the AD unzipped and stepped out of charcoal colored pants. He stood tall and proud in front of Mulder in a bulging black jockstrap.

"What's it going to be, Fox?"

"Y-yes"

"I'm glad." A smile transformed the stern face.

The agent was lost in a sort of numb wonderment. "I have a question."

"What a surprise." Skinner's warm tone seemed...it was almost...affectionate?

"What the hell was going on down there?"

"Damned if I know. They seemed to think I'd received notice about it through some of your infamous snooping and decided to strong arm my way in to make sure they got it right."

"That undercover line was quick thinking," Mulder admired dazedly.

"Easy sell. They'd already assumed I was here for some mundane purpose. I probably couldn't have gotten away with it if I was dressed like that." His smile grew wider as he ran his eyes over Mulder's outfit.

Mulder reddened, protesting, "They didn't bat an eye."

"Because it's you."

"Huh?"

"You're known for your..."

"My what?" the agent demanded a little defensively.

"Endearingly distinctive character," Skinner finished smoothly.

Mulder considered that. "We've been saved by public conviction that I'm a flaky snoop and you're a boring control freak?"

"Yep."

"About time my reputation started working for me."

"Speaking of reputations, we may have to discuss your attitude about this 'just fooling around' business - as a returning champ I have standards to uphold." The big man's eyes twinkled at his agent's dropping jaw. "Meaning you'll have to keep a better grip on the reigns than you do on your gun."

"That's enough lip out of you, partner." Mulder admonished in his finest drawl. "You'd best be getting a move on."

"You're right. But first...I don't believe I've told you yet what a good look that is for you." Stepping close, Skinner took the hat from Mulder's nerveless fingers. One large hand brushed his erection through the thin nylon underwear. Mulder swallowed heavily as blood rushed to his cock. Engulfing the younger man in strong arms, the big man kissed him deeply. Mulder moaned helplessly and clung to broad naked shoulders. Finally drawing away, the AD placed the hat on his agent's head and smoothed the brim with care.

"You check to make sure they're gone and put our names on the couples list. I'll let Carl know he can have his office back and meet you down there. My paddock is number 15."

"Huh? Oh right, sure." It was difficult to concentrate over the arias his heart was trilling. "Um, what's your competition name?"

Was that an honest to God blush?? "Fox's Ironside."

The arias cranked up another notch. "Sounds like a name with a story behind it."

"Could be. I'll tell you about it later when we're at home."

Mulder bounced down the stairs, picking up his song, "...wishin' my guy was by my siiide. All the things I'm missin', good vittles, love and kissin', will be waiting at the end of my riiide..."

The End. (Yee-haw.)


'That kid knew two things. How to work the computer and sex!' 'Men and computers; and know she's blown herself into space!' 'There's a lesson there somewhere,' said Hilton thoughtfully. - Pel Torro

He wasn't going to leave Pat Benson on her own, crabs or no crabs. - Night of the Crabs


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