I Feel Lucky

by Ursula

Title: I Feel Lucky

Author/Pseudonym: Ursula

Fandom: X Files

Pairing: Mulder/Skinner/Krycek

Rating: NC-17

Status: Finished (Linda had a quick look to combat my attention deficit defects.)

Date Posted: 8-10-03

Archive: Lyric Wheel, FHSA, RAT B, WWOMB

E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie or Ursula4X@aol.com

Classification: Slash Humor

Series/Sequel: Is this story part of a series: Wheelie story

Web Site: http://www.fhsarchive.com/ursula/ Main FHSA Site: http://www.fhsarchive.com/ Mirror Site: fhsarchive.popullus.org/

Disclaimers: The X Files still doesn't belong to me, but I keep hoping to find a gift card in the mail.

Notes: I feel silly, oh so silly

Warnings: I didn't feel like writing a serious story

Time Frame: None in particular

I Feel Lucky

All I was doing was trying to have a quiet cup of coffee and read my horoscope. It didn't look good. It said that the stars were against me. Best thing to do was to get back in bed.

A scary appearing hand lowered my paper and my boss's corpse yellow face contemplated me.

"Alex, my girl, I have a job for you," Spender said.

He smirked. I hate it when he looks at me with those watery blue eyes and smiles like that. Someone's going to die and most likely it will be me that has to kill them.

And I hate it when he calls me girl. I may be gay, but I'm not aiming to lose any equipment. I do fine with what I have.

"Go down to Marty's Place and buy me a pack of cigarettes," Spender said, handing me forty dollars. A moment of thought and he added, "And a Barq."

"Anything else," I said.

"A burrito, bean, three layer with extra jalapenos."

Now, you ask me, Spender's going to get so much gas from this strange new diet that he'll blow up in thousands of bullshit colored pieces. Ha, I want to see that.

As I passed by the corner, Rosie, the gal who owned that corner, asked, "Alex, you gonna change your luck with me today."

Yeah, a visit to the health department is not on my agenda, pretty lady. I gave her fifty anyway. One less trick before she goes home to her kids. Hell, my mother was a ho. It's an ancient profession they say.

As I trotted my cute ass on down the street, I passed a dark alley. Now normally, I'm all in favor of dark alleys, but it might not be the best idea today. I mean, think what could be waiting there for me: dancing alien babies, hungry fluke men, liver eating mutants, fat sucking...well, I always thought that fat sucking guy missed his calling. Monsters are so stupid. All that guy had to do was hang out a shingle and fat people would form lines to get in his door.

I mentioned that to the old farts that ran the project and they weren't in the least bit interested. I got vision and the world has got bifocals.

Anyway, that dark alley could have held anything. Alien rebels with sutured orifices, Jehovah's Witnesses with Watchtowers and other things too frightening to contemplate.

I would have crossed the street but I spotted Miguel Cardinal swaggering down the sidewalk. Miguel makes Luis look like a charm school graduate. Miguel offed his own nephew because the kid said he didn't want to join the family business. I hear a few years back that a Brazilian pit viper bit him and the snake died.

So I ducked in the dark alley and hoped that the liver eating monsters had taken care of the truly scary men in black, the Watchtower hawkers.

Instead, a burly arm slammed me into the wall and a surly voice rumbled, "I told you I wasn't done with you yet."

Well, well, well, AD Skinner...

I didn't feel like exchanging gut shots so I puckered up my lips and kissed his...

Well, his ass would have to come later. I slammed a smooch down on his lips and sucked the air right out of his lungs.

Hell, never tried that one. Walter went weak in the knees and leaned back so I cleverly unbuttoned his shirt and had a snack off his nipples before meandering on down for the real deal meal.

Just call me BJ Honeybutt.

Walter stopped yelling and beating his chest the minute I went down on my knees. I made him yell loud enough to summon the dead...and got out of there before any corpses showed up.

You know something? I feel lucky!

Anyway I went into the corner bodega and loaded up on my boss's order. I had a six-pack of Barq, a carton of Morleys, and a three-layer bean burrito with extra jalapenos. Then I used the change to buy myself a lottery ticket or two. Hell, maybe my luck was going to change.

I got all the shit back to Spender's stinking apartment where he made me sleep on a cot at the foot of his bed, cheap bastard.

The asshole looked the shit over and said, "Where's my napkins?"

I started for the kitchen and Spender said frostily, "Do you think I'm made of money? I'm entitled to free napkins. And hot sauce. I want my hot sauce."

What a dick!

So there I go, glumly thinking that at least my cute little ass is going to get a nice work out when there's that alley again. This time I slowed down. Maybe Skinner was there, waiting for round two.

Hmm, another arm and a sucker punch. Damn, I knew that fist.

"Hey, Mulder, nice to see you," I said.

"Krycek, you bastard, did you kill my father?" Mulder asked.

Now, the logical answer was "No, Mulder, you dumb fuck, you were a test tube baby."

However, there are times when logic should just take a back seat to instinct.

Instinct told me that a little submission was a good thing with Mulder. Since he was tight up against me, pressing me to the wall, I knew he was hard, hard as hell.

So I just loosened up my jeans, shimmied out of them, and unzipped him slick as a lubed ass.

You know Mulder is spooky. He understood my communication without a word being said. He let his fingers do the walking and the talking, opening me up like the gates of paradise for St. Peter.

And I could have canonized his peter. Oh, Mulder, we should have done this a long time ago. He had the moves, hitting my magic spot just right as his hand expertly drove my dick to distraction.

Yowser, I came so hard I blasted a new bullet hole in the concrete.

Mulder had to pull up my jeans and set me back in motion, commenting that "Alex, you may be a scum sucking rat bastard, but we really have to do this more often."

Likewise Mulder. Likewise.

Anyway, back to the bodega.

As I was pulling together napkins and filling one of those specimen cups with hot sauce, the chubby little girl clerk came sashaying up.

"Hey, girl, I bought a three-layer burrito earlier and forgot the napkins," I said, expecting a chewing out.

"Oh, hey man, you can buy all the napkins you need," she said, dark eyes glowing, "Cause they just called your numbers and the lottery was at eleven million."

Damn right. I FEEL lucky.

So I bought me a Harley with a sidecar to drive to the capital to collect my prize, but after I picked up my check, the wind began to rise and the thunder started to rumble. I pulled into my favorite bar and I pulled up a stool, flipped open my mobile phone and bought my favorite waitress a car, ordered a round on the house, and kicked on back.

I felt a hand on my thigh and opened my big green eyes to see a country western singer looking deep into my soul. But that just ain't right.

You know I ordered up a truck or two of Morleys and a few barrel of Barqs, bought a concession on those burritos, and I financed me a book. Gonna publish old Spender and get the bastard off my ass. He's going to be an author and make it big on the talk show circuits. Yeah, I feel lucky. I feel so lucky.

As I walked to the dark alley, thinking I wanted to change my luck again, I passed Rosie. Hell, yes, gave her a check and told her to open a home for retired streetwalkers. Yeah, everyone deserves a pension plan.

And as I passed that alley, two pairs of hands pulled me inside. Man, rolling boxcars all the way!

I had Walter on one side and Mulder around my thigh. There were sparks and flames shooting and some alley rat music yelling at the stars.

So it wasn't too much longer before we headed out of town. Walter was driving and I was riding behind. Mulder had Scully on his knee in the sidecar and we were heading for a showdown. Cause I feel lucky, oh, so lucky. And we're going trash some alien ass...

Yes, Ma'am!

I Feel Lucky (Mary-Chapin Carpenter/Dan Schlitz)

Well I woke up this morning, stumbled
out of my rack
I opened up the paper to the page in the back It only took a minute for my finger to find My daily dose of destiny under my sign
My eyes just about popped out of my head It said the stars are stacked against you girl!
Get back in bed

I feel lucky, I feel lucky
No Professor Doom's going to stand

in my way
Mmmm I feel lucky today

Well I strolled down to the corner, gave

my numbers to the clerk
The pots 11 million so I called in

sick to work

I bought a pack of camels, a burrito

and a Barq's.
Crossed against the light made a beeline

for the park
The sky began to thunder, the wind began

to moan
I heard a voice above me saying Girl

you'd better get back home

But I feel lucky, I feel lucky
No tropical depression's gonna steal

my sun away
Mmmmm I feel lucky today

Well 11 million later I was sitting

at the bar
I'd bought the house a double
and the waitress a new car
Dwight Yoakam's in the corner
trying to catch my eye
Lyle Lovett's right beside me with
his hand upon my thigh
The moral of the story is simple

but it's true
Hey the stars might lie but the

numbers never do

I feel luck, I feel lucky
Think I'll flip a coin, I'm a

winner either way
Mmmmm I feel lucky today

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