The First Kiss of Christmas
by Forbes. firstname.lastname@example.org
Rating: Sk/D - PG
Summary: Christmas cheer in the Basement
Doggett blew across the coffee cup. He was dying to take a sip, but it was still way too hot. He'd had too many burned tongues to bother risking it just yet. He could wait.
The sound of his shoes echoed through the empty corridor of the basement, bouncing off the files and boxes that lined the walls.
God, it was always so freakin' dark down here. Enough to give anyone sick building syndrome.
He blew across his drink.
Dark, dreary and miserable.
No Christmas cheer what so ever. He sighed. Government workers. Christmas cheer wasn't on any budget proforma.
Turning the last corner, he could hear the sound of laughter from the basement office, carried out on the smell of... What was that?
He peered round the doorway.
"Agent Doggett!" Monica Reyes sat on the edge of Scully's desk, glittery tinsel around her neck, a cup of something held up, in salute. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Monica." He came all the way into the office and looked round. She was alone. He wondered what she'd been laughing at. "Thought you were in Montana."
"Early reprieve. Slipped on the first flight out." She grinned and slipped off the desk, walking towards him, the smell of cinnamon coming with her.
"Here. Have some punch." She thrust the cup towards him. Raising his eyebrows, he put his coffee down and accepted the cup.
"Thank you." He bent his head to sniff. Smelled okay.
"Go on. It won't bite you."
He smiled. He was gettin' too paranoid. He sipped the drink. The warm spicy flavour rushed into his mouth, sparking his tastebuds.
"S' good," he told her, taking some more.
"I made it. Thought you might need some Christmas cheer down here."
Doggett looked at her through narrowed eyes. God she was spooky, sometimes.
"Yeah," he admitted, looking round. "We could use a little of that."
He raised his eyebrows. "Where is everybody?"
She flapped a hand. "Gone. Disappeared... Poof!"
Doggett frowned. She couldn't be drunk. Not Monica. She didn't do alcohol at work.
"You feelin' okay, Mon?"
"Tickety-boo, thank you," she said, then laughed.
As Doggett looked at her, a hand whipped round from behind her back, and shot up into the air.
His eyes followed it.
She was holding something green. Green and white.
He looked back at her. She was grinning like a loon. He glanced at the cup.
"You spike this, Mon?"
She shook her head, hair wafting back and forth. "Uh-uh. 'Gainst regulations."
"So?" She was still grinning.
He decided to play hard to get. Just for fun.
"What about it?" She flicked her glance up.
He regarded her hand and then her face solemnly, biting down on a smile.
"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head. Her face fell. God, it was so easy to rattle her cage.
Doggett regarded her for a moment. Now was a good a time as any. He shrugged. "I'm kinda spoken for Mon." He tilted his head. "Wouldn't be right."
Her face was a picture. "Since when?!"
He shrugged. "Late summer."
"You never said!"
"It's all kinda hush-hush."
"Oh, but John! We've know each other for..." She poked him in the chest with her other hand. "We're talking a colleague, aren't we?"
Shit, she was too spooky sometimes.
He smiled. "Could be."
"John Doggett, you old..."
He grinned. "Dog?"
Laughing, she patted his chest. "Yeah."
He regarded her dark eyes with undisguised affection. Her liked Monica. She was a good friend. One that had seen most of the nasty sharp bits inside him, and still loved him, regardless.
And that was something special in this world.
She was looking at him patiently. Waiting.
"What?" he said, softly.
A smile for him. "Nothing." She wouldn't ask. That wasn't Monica's style. She'd wait for him to tell, if he wanted to.
The mistletoe rustled over his head.
"Come on, John. It's traditional."
He shook again. "Haven't done this with my..." He smiled at her. "'Friend', yet. Sorry"
Her hand drooped a little.
"It's just a kiss, John. It's not like I'm asking you for a quickie over the desk."
He laughed softly. That was Monica, alright. Straight to the point.
"Even so, nothing." She shook the little branch. "Don't be such an old Grinch."
"I wouldn't feel right."
"Oh, please. You've kissed me under the mistletoe plenty."
"That was before."
He took another sip of punch. It was weird, but all of a sudden he really didn't want Monica to be the first person he kissed this Christmas.
"Mon, I'm sorry," he said.
Oh, God, her face was a picture. She didn't know whether to be pleased for him, or pissed.
He smiled. "You understand, don't you, Mon? I wanna.. You know. Kiss my friend first."
He had a sudden picture in his mind, of Skinner standing in his bedroom under a bunch of mistletoe. Standing bare-chested, in those tight faded Levis of his, glasses off and hard as iron.
Yeah, that's do it.
He blinked to clear his head and looked at Monica.
"You understand, Mon?"
Her mouth hung open as she nodded. Big brown eyes wide, kinda vacant.
He put his cup on the desk and took hold of her arm, pulling it down. "You okay?"
She nodded, still silent. Maybe she was pissed he hadn't confided in her.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It's not exactly public knowledge. This 'thing'." He waved a hand, vaguely.
She nodded again.
"It's... I dunno, kinda a delicate situation."
More nodding. Then she cleared her throat. "Oh... John," she said at last.
He frowned. So he had a relationship. It wasn't an 'oh John' moment, surely to God?
He raised his eyebrow. "What?"
The silence was outstanding.
"Oh." Very small voice again.
This was pissing him off. "What's so bad about me being spoken for?" he asked, irritated by her silent scrutiny.
She shook her head. "Nothing at all. I'm happy for you." She smiled, properly. "Really I am. I'm just... surprised, that's all."
He stood, watching something filtering through his brain. What was she talkin' about, 'surprised'?
His eyes widened as something clicked inside his head.
She didn't... She couldn't possibly...
"Monica..." he began, blushing and fumbling with what to say to her.
"Really, I am happy for you." She reached out to put her hand on his sleeve.
"Are you sayin'?" He swallowed. He couldn't say it.
She smiled. "I'm just glad it's not Mulder."
Doggett pulled a face. "Oh, God." He blushed some more, not sure if he was mortified at what she'd guessed, or the fact she actually vocalised it.
She was too fuckin' spooky for comfort.
"You... you okay about this?"
"John. It's your choice. I'm just glad you're happy." She lifted an eyebrow. "You are, aren't you."
It wasn't a question.
"I can see it in your face."
What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
The truth seemed as good as anything. "Yes," he told her. "I am."
She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips to his cheek.
"That was just a kiss one from one friend to another. You can still have your first Christmas kiss with your... 'friend'."
He smiled. "Thank you."
She offered him her other hand. "Here. You should have this."
He took the sprig, puzzled. "Why?"
She smiled. "Oh, I just think you may need it." Her chin lifted to nod over her shoulder.
Skinner was standing in the doorway of the office, a sheaf of files in his hand. He was regarding them silently.
Monica squeezed his arm and smiled, moving away.
"I really am happy for you, John," she whispered.
He watched her cross the room and nod to Skinner as she moved past him, into the corridor.
"Sir," she said.
Doggett stared, the sprig of mistletoe hanging from his hand. He looked down at what he held, frowning. What the hell just happened here?
"Agent Doggett?" Skinner stepped into the room.
Doggett looked up. Spooky. That woman was out and out spooky.
Skinner was staring at him. Staring at what he was holding in his hand.
Why the hell not?
He stepped forward to the other man.
"Agent Reyes brought this. Said I might need it."
"Why? Did she kiss you?"
Doggett shook his head. "Told her the first one at Christmas should be special."
Slowly, Doggett raised his hand until it was over their heads. He stared Skinner in the eye, daring him.
"You're right," Skinner agreed, reaching his hand and cupping Doggett's face.
"Merry Christmas, Agent Doggett." he said against Doggett's lips, then pressed their mouths together.
Opening up to a deliciously warm tongue, Doggett's eyes slid shut. Yeah...
He brought his hand to Skinner's waist and pulled tight until their chests touched.
They angled their heads and deepened the kiss.
Doggett could hear the sound of their breathing, loud in the silent office, interlaced with little grunts and wet noises that slipped in under the pounding of his heart.
The kiss stretched out.
His arm ached. He brought it down to rest across Skinner's shoulders and hugged.
The files slipped and fell to the floor as Skinner wrapped both arms around him. They ignored the fallen paperwork and kissed some more.
Eventually, moving his mouth across Skinner's cheek, Doggett dragged in a couple of deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the other man, happy to relish the feel of the hard body against his own.
"Happy Christmas, Walt," he whispered against an ear.
"You too," came the soft reply.
Doggett opened his eyes as he grinned against the hot neck.
Monica stood in the doorway.
Strangely, Doggett felt no embarrassment. They just stared at each other.
Then she smiled, mouthed 'Happy Christmas' and was gone.
She might be spooky, but Monica was okay.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
Love from Forbes.
Archived: December 29, 2001