City Sidewalks

by Siberian Skys


Title: City Sidewalks
Author: Siberian Skys
Rating: PG
Classification: M/K slash
Spoilers: None
Summary: A chance meeting at the holidays Archive: Yes, but please keep the headers attached and let me know where. Disclaimers: Mulder and Krycek belong to each other. Notes: This story was written for the M/K Holiday Zine. Thanks to X-Scribe for the beta and her continuous support. Feedback: I'd love to hear from you at SiberianSkys@aol.com


Mulder smiled and shook his head as a small raven haired boy darted in front of him and skidded to a stop in front of the tallest tree on the lot.

"Papa, this one," he called, looking around with large, bright green eyes. When "papa" didn't instantly materialize, a little crinkle appeared at the top of his nose and his lower lip began to quiver.

Mulder's heart pounded in his chest as he too turned to look for "papa".

"Don't move," a deep, familiar voice whispered.

Mulder ran his tongue across his dry lips and stayed still, feeling the press of hard metal in the center of his back.

"Papa?"

"Something slightly shorter than the Washington Monument, Igor."

The little boy giggled and darted back into the trees.

"Igor?" Mulder asked. "You never struck me as a Marty Feldman fan."

"Who?"

"Igor--You know. Young Frankenstein."

"Stravinsky--The Rite of Spring."

Mulder slowly moved his hand back to rest on Krycek's left thigh. "You don't need the gun, Alex," he said gently.

Panting hard, Krycek's words tumbled out in a rush. "Twice a year--that's how often I'm allowed to see him and you have to show up now. You couldn't wait--"

"It was dumb luck," Mulder said. "You obviously know I've been looking for you, but I wasn't looking here. I was interviewing a witness."

"A witness? Scully--"

"Scully is back at Quantico doing an autopsy," Mulder explained.

"You weren't followed?"

"It's not that kind of case; it's not even an X-File. It's a straight forward murder--"

"If it's just a straight forward murder investigation, then why are you and Scully working the case?" Krycek asked suspiciously.

"And people call me paranoid," Mulder muttered. "A high ranking member of the US Congress doesn't want to believe his only grandson got drunk, beat his girlfriend to a bloody pulp and threw her off the Potomac Bridge."

"So?"

"So, the congressman and the Attorney General were fraternity brothers at the University of Michigan."

Krycek holstered his Glock and took a step back, giving Mulder just enough space to turn around.

"I have questions, but they'll wait for now. You know where to find me, Alex. Don't make me come looking." Mulder took Krycek's face between his wool-gloved hands and claimed his mouth in a soft, slow kiss. Plunging his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, he strolled off into the night.



 

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