11/14/97
Eggbeater Short Story Challenge
SUMMARY: This is my contribution to the eggbeater short challenge. There were so many great M&K in the kitchen stories that I didn't feel like I had anything to add, so I went a totally different direction. The only command I disobeyed was the one about the sexual situation (ironic, isn't it?). 500 words.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Krycek belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Rated PG.
FEED ME: Contact me for any reason at hth29@hotmail.com


Beg, Borrow, Steal Away
by HTH

"Hey, Scully, I need an eggbeater."

His partner had looked happier to see him. The seconds ticked off, and she merely stood in the quarter-open doorway, watching him narrowly. "An eggbeater?"

"Yeah, I had this craving for lemon meringue pie, so I called my mom and got the recipe, but guess who doesn't own an eggbeater? Can I borrow one?" As all-consuming as Mulder's depressions were, his manic phases were just as imposing. His eyes were bright with a lunatic friendliness, and he was shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

"Fine. I'll get you an eggbeater; wait on the porch."

"Woof, woof, Scully. Come on, it's getting dark, and I'm cold." She revealed no flicker of compassion -- or of movement. "What's going on in there?"

She sighed. "You really shouldn't have come, Mulder."

"Scully, do you have a man in there?"

"Not exactly the way you think."

Mulder adopted his best love-me look and said, "It's really cold out here."

"All right. I'm going to let you in, but I want you to listen. He came to me. He needed a place to stay, and--"

The careful, soothing way she spoke, and the way she deliberatly passed over his name told Mulder everything. His good mood drained out of him instantly. "He's in there?" Scully nodded. "I don't -- why wouldn't he come to me?"

"He's worried that you're too serious about him. So am I. Mulder, you have to be careful dealing with someone like him, in his position. Even *he* understands that."

Mulder was incapable of pushing Scully out of his way, so he was reduced to crowding her, in a doomed attempt to be intimidating. "I want to see him. Dammit, Scully! You lied to me."

"I just never told you."

"Has this happened before?" Stiffly, she nodded. "Dammit. He could've been dead for all I knew, and you couldn't even--"

She stepped back, allowing him inside. "He's worried about you, Mulder. We both are."

Mulder's stomach clenched at the sight of Scully's couch transformed into a hospital bed, complete with blood-stained sheets and painkillers on the tv tray. "God. Where is he? Alex!"

"Take it easy, Mulder. I'm right here." He leaned against the kitchen doorframe, trying to capture the mellow, silky grace of the old Krycek. But through his thin white shirt, Mulder could see the deep gouge in his abdomen.

"You fuck." Mulder could feel his lip begin to quiver.

Sheepishly, Krycek looked down. "I didn't have a choice about coming here. I needed a couple of stitches."

Mulder didn't know which hurt worse: that his partner had kept secrets from him, or that his lover didn't trust him. Love-love, and it hurt all the way around. Tennis, anyone?

"Here's your eggbeater."

His hand curled around Krycek's fingers, and the eggbeater. Mulder kissed him long and hard. "Don't do this to me again. Please."

Alex shook his head and kissed him again. It felt like a promise, but maybe not one Mulder should believe.

End.