Part 1/16

Friday Morning. 
The Basement. 
8.34 a.m.


 "Mornin', Agent Scully."
John Doggett slipped his shoulders out of his coat and strode across 
the room. 

"Good morning to you, Agent Doggett," came the pleasant reply. Doggett 
glanced across. She was in a good mood today, by the sound of it. He 
tossed his coat on the hook and straightened his tie. Pregnant woman mood 
swings aside, Scully seemed to finally, finally thawing towards him. 
Not a moment too soon, by his reckoning.

"You're cheerful, this a.m." he told her, perching on the edge of her 
desk. "This a  Thank God
it's Friday' thing?"

Scully looked up from her file, a ghost of a smile playing across her 
mouth.

"Not entirely," she told him, enigmatically. 

Resting his hand on his thigh, Doggett leaned towards her, his lop 
sided grin playing over his face. 
"Do tell, Agent Scully."

Mulder wandered through the basement door, flipping a sunflower seed 
breakfast into his mouth. He nodded hello at Doggett. "Let me guess. You 
got the prize in your cereal box?"

Her eyebrow slid up. " I always get the prize, Agent Mulder."

He laughed. "I bet you do, Agent Scully."

"Mornin', Agent Muldah." Doggett nodded to Mulder, moving across the 
room, giving the contents of the other man's hand a funny look. He made 
no comment. Mulder's eating habits fell into the same category as the 
pencil flipping penchant the other agent had. A don't ask, you don't want 
to know, sort of thing.

"So what gives, Scully?" Mulder wandered around the little office. 
"Kersh finally disappeared up his own ass?"

Doggett snorted. "I'd pay money to see that."

Scully covered a smile with her hand. "Agent Doggett," she said in mock 
disapproval.

His hands came up. "Hey. Just expressin' an opinion."

She smiled at him, a proper, teeth baring one this time, surprising 
him, but pleasing him, none the less.

"Dangerous thing, that, Agent Doggett. Expressing an opinion." Mulder 
leaned against the filing cabinet. He spoke whilst flipping, never 
missing a seed. He peered over Scully's shoulder at the open file on her 
desk. 

"I'll take my chances," Doggett replied.

A bark of laughter bit into the air. A wet kernel fell out of Mulder's 
open mouth onto the desk. Ignoring his damp gift, Mulder reached over 
and pointed at something on the page, nudging Scully, chuckling.

Scully flicked the seed  away with a grimace. "Mulder..." she 
complained, moving the file away.

"What's so funny?" Doggett stuck both hands in his pants pockets and 
leaned against his desk.
He was trying to squash that nasty little feeling that came up every 
now and then, that whispered he was being held out of the loop in his own 
office. He was trying. Scully was trying. And lord knows, he thought, 
Mulder was trying. 

Mulder grinned at him. "Not my place to tell, Agent Doggett."

Doggett frowned at him, biting down hard on that unpleasant feeling. 

Scully tapped the file in front of her. "It seems we have a new 
assignment, partner." 

Doggett looked at her, grateful out of all proportion for that one 
little word. Two syllables that dragged him back into the room and out of 
no mans' land. Thank you, Agent Scully, he told her silently.
Nodding, he reached for the folder on her desk. "Okay. I'll bite. This 
makes you happy?"

"Well, it came down without a summons to the inner sanctum for a 
briefing." She tilted her head, pulling the folder away from him. "And that 
has to be a good thing."
Frowning slightly as the folder slipped out of reach, Doggett wondered 
what was going on.  "I hear ya. So it's celebration all round, then."

"You might not think so," Mulder grinned at him.

Doggett raised his own eyebrow. "I might not?"

"Uh uh." 

Scully made a clicking noise in her throat. "I'm afraid not, Agent 
Doggett." 

He stared at his partner. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn 
Scully's eyes were twinkling. Scully was teasing him? Surely not? 

"What gives, Agent Scully?"

That smile appeared on Scully's face again. I could get used to seeing 
that, Doggett  thought.

"Bottom line." She laughed softly, as if at some private joke. "An 
undercover  case."

Mulder gave that irritating bark of laughter that earned him a stare 
from both of them. Doggett held the glare a little longer. "Bottom line, 
Agent Doggett."

Pointedly ignoring him, Doggett tilted his head. "Yeah?"

"Downtown. Possible emergence of a serial killer."

"Possible? You mean they're not sure?" Doggett snorted.

"Three makes a pattern, but not a serial, apparently." Scully brushed a 
stray hair behind her ear.
"Anyway. Bottom line..." Another smile.  Despite his pleasure at seeing 
her smile in his presence, this enigmatic shit was starting to piss 
Doggett off. 

"Agents instructed to go undercover to gather information and set up 
possible sting scenario with perp."

Doggett scratched his nose, levering himself off the desk edge. "Excuse 
me... But I thought this was the X Files. Not Violent Crimes."

Scully nodded.  "Perp apparently displays unusual characteristics in 
the execution of the crime."

Doggett just stared. "Go on."

"He," Scully cleared her throat. "Or she..."

"Statistically, we're talking white male, 25 to 40. Single, socially 
inept, but reasonably successful in his chosen career." Mulder told her, 
interrupting her flow without apology.

"Thank you, Agent Muldah," Doggett told him with a glare. "Your input 
is appreciated, but I'd appreciate you lettin' Agent Scully finish 
speaking, first." Screw equality and all that shit, he hated  rude behaviour 
from anyone.  Mulder grinned and held up his hands in apology.

"Thank you, Agent Doggett," Scully said, flashing Mulder a look. 
Something inside Doggett leaped up and punched the air. One nothing to the 
Big Dawg. 
"As I was saying. Unusual characteristics." She cleared her throat 
again. "In the act of sex, the killer strips the victims, strangles them 
and then..." She paused to swallow. "Then consumes part of the body."

Mulder  flipped more seeds, looking down at the file photographs. 
"Nasty."

"Consumes?" Doggett frowned.

"He bites off the genitals," Mulder told him cheerfully. 

Scully looked wan. Doggett flicked her a glance. He was sure details 
like that wouldn't sit well with her pregnant stomach.

"Bites?" Doggett winced.

"Scarfs down the whole meat and two veg," Mulder flicked another seed 
off Scully's desk, oblivious to her rigid shoulders.

"Male victims," Doggett said, feeling a step behind.

"And male perp," Mulder nodded, his grin inappropriate to the severity 
of the crime. Doggett felt his hackles rise.  "You think that's 
amusin', Agent Mulder?"

Mulder shook his head. "Not really. I just have a misplaced sense of 
irony."

Doggett snorted. "I'll say."

Scully shifted in her seat, a little colour coming back to her cheeks. 
"I think Agent Mulder is reacting to the implications in Deputy 
Director Kersh's orders." She glanced up, glaring. "With a misplaced sense of 
humour, I might say."

Doggett shook his head. He could feel himself wandering off track 
again. Did they do it on purpose? Or did all the years of working together 
align mental wavelengths? He worked his fingers over the furrows on his 
forehead. Perhaps if he had a tantrum on the office floor, they'd  stop 
it.
"Help me out, here, Agent Scully," he said, wearily, opting against 
hysterics for the time being. 
"Reactin' to what?"

"You're going undercover, Agent Doggett," Mulder butted in, stuffing 
the rest of the seeds in his jacket pocket. "Hope you like disco." 
Doggett was treated to a face splitting grin.

Scully sighed. "Mulder... Do you mind?" 

Doggett looked from one to the other. "What's he talkin' about, Agent 
Scully?"

"Kersh's orders." Scully's lips twitched. "Apparently you fit the 
victim profile. You're ordered to go undercover at the club where the last 
two victims were taken."

"I fit the profile?" 

Mulder leaned over Scully, pathologically incapable of keeping his 
mouth shut. "You know, Agent Doggett. Tall, blue eyed, skinny..." A wicked 
glint in the other man's eye irritated Doggett. On the mature side."

He arranged his face in a neutral mask. He refused to give  Mulder the 
satisfaction of reacting to his words.
"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." Mulder laughed, moving round from the cabinet, prowling closer 
to Doggett, who watched him approach, keeping his face calm. 
"You fit the profile, alright, Agent Doggett." Doggett stared straight 
ahead, as Mulder walked in back of him. Clenching his jaw, he thanked 
his drill sergeant for hours of motionless
parade ground training. He was not going to turn round and look. He 
refused to.
"You fit the profile just fine." The voice very close now. Way too 
close. Doggett tightened his
jaw.

"Mulder..." Scully said. She was shaking her head in weary amusement. 
As Doggett  watched,
she rolled her eyes at him. She thought this clown was funny?

"Only thing is..."  Doggett's eyes snapped wide as fingers ruffled 
through the hairs on the back
of his neck.  "You really need to get a hair cut, John."

Whipping round to face the other agent, Doggett felt his fists clench 
involuntarily.
"Whadd'ya think you're doin'?"  He growled.

"Just checking you out for the job, Agent Doggett." Mulder backed away, 
laughing. He flicked his gaze towards Scully. "Tell him."  

The fists stayed tight. If he took a step forward, he calculated that 
he could probably break that ridiculous nose in one blow. Was it instant 
dismissal for striking a fellow agent? Doggett couldn't think past the 
cloud of indignation of having Mulder touch him.

"Agent Doggett..."  Scully voice cut through the atmosphere between the 
two men.  "Agent Doggett?"

Doggett tore his glare away from Mulder's grin with sheer self control. 
He parted his lips to drag a breath in. Sometimes, just sometimes, his 
temper howled to be let out. And he had a feeling this particular Agent 
was going see that beast fly, one of these days.  Brought to you by the 
letter M, for Mulder.
"What?" He turned his back on Mulder, trying not to snap. He swore, if 
that man touched him again... He could feel a headache coming on.

"Assistant Director Kersh wants you to go undercover at the Eros Club. 
Tonight. Full
wire tap, video surveillance and outside back up." She was all business 
like and brusque. 

He rubbed his forehead again. Okay, undercover. No problem. No big 
deal.

"The Eros Club." Mulder whispered, too close to his ear to be 
comfortable. 

"So?"  Doggett took a deep breath and locked eyes with Scully to calm 
himself down. She was looking at him with one of those smiles all over 
her face. Did she practise them in front of a mirror?

That voice behind again. "Ever been there, Agent Doggett?"  

Any second now, he was going to bury his fist in Mulder's face and fuck 
the consequences.
"No."

"Interesting place."

"Really?" Yep. Any second now.

Across the room, Scully sighed. "Mulder. Stop annoying Agent Doggett." 
She picked up the file and held it out. "Here. You might as well get up 
to speed on this thing."

At last, thought Doggett, stepping forward to take the folder. I get in 
the loop. He nodded his thanks and opened it up. 
"So what's this Eros place then? Some sort of disco?"  

Behind him, Mulder chuckled. Doggett flicked his blue eyes to Scully. 
Talk to me, they said. Talk to me before I lay one on him. To his 
surprise, he watched a pink blush crawl over her cheeks.

"It's a um..." Scully busied herself, tidying her pens, not looking at 
him.

"It's a...?" he prompted.

Mulder made a snickering noise behind him. "It's a gay club, Agent 
Doggett." 

The anger inside Doggett drained away, leaving him with a very dry 
throat and what felt very much like a creeping blush of his own. 


                         *

Part 2/16



Doggett  swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't squeak when he spoke.
"A gay club?" Okay. Reasonable steady.

"Um... Yes." Scully still had trouble looking at him. Part of his mind 
wondered why that was.

"I see."  The professional agent inside him was currently arguing in a 
corner with his
masculinity.  There was absolutely no reason why this should be any 
different to any other sort of undercover work. He'd done enough of them 
when he was a cop. Drug dealers, thieves. Assorted maniacs. Shit, he'd 
even posed as a paedophile, once. The memory of that case brought a 
twitch to his face. He pushed the images away. This one should be a walk in 
the park.

"Lucky you, Agent Doggett." Mulder moved round to lean on Scully's 
desk. "You get to dress up  and go boogie with all the big boys."
Doggett kept his eyes on the folder in front of him, pretending to 
read. He didn't want to look at Mulder just now. He wasn't sure he'd got 
his  calm' face on.

"Yeah, lucky me," he said, neutrally. The trickle of apprehension had 
evolved into full flow.  Shit. This whole situation was just giggle 
fodder to Mulder's sick sense of humour. Well he'd be damned if he'd let 
his discomfort show. "What's the plan then, Agent Scully?" Business like 
again, Scully tapped the phone on the desk. 

"Well, we'll wire you up. The lab has some micro feed mics they want to 
try out in the field." 

Doggett nodded, pulling himself back together. Get a grip, man.

"And the club has agreed to let us set up an eye over the exits. That 
gives a good view of the alleyway." 

"Back up?"

"Out front. Usual van." He nodded again. Straight forward set up. 
Should be smooth.

"Bodies?"

Scully shook her head. "Just you." She pulled a face. "Kersh didn't 
approve another agent on the floor." She raised her chin. "You're on your 
own, I'm afraid."

Doggett shrugged. No surprise there. Kersh was a skinflint and an 
asshole. 

"No problem."

"But..." Scully glanced at the door. Doggett frowned. "I see no reason 
to put your life in danger simply because of budgetary constraints."

"So?" 

Scully smiled. "I've arranged for  undercover' undercover back up."
The sound of sunflower seed cracking sliced through Doggett's brain. An 
exquisitely
uncomfortable image of being smirked at while he did the job, as 
painful as a paper cut. No. No way. He'd rather go into the damned club stark 
naked than have Fox Mulder eyeballing him. That headache was starting 
to really bite down.
He scowled.  "You don't mean..."
Mulder wandered towards Scully. He was chomping those damned seeds 
again. Doggett really wanted to slap them out of his hands.

"Scully thought you should have someone in place. To watch your back." 
His eyebrow
wiggled up and down suggestively, as his eyes roved up and down 
Doggett's body.
Doggett clenched his teeth and forced the blush down. If he said what 
he thought he was going to say, that tantrum he'd considered was 
imminent. 

"Unofficially, of course," Mulder grinned.

"It has to be off the record, Agent Doggett. Kersh would..." She 
paused. "Well, let's say it wouldn't be in the best interests of the Bureau 
to have personnel acting as unofficial back up on a case."

"I bet not."

"So." Mulder rubbed his hands together. "Don't worry about being left 
hanging, Agent
Doggett. Someone will be n place. Incognito." 
He didn't want to do this to himself. He didn't want to give Mulder the 
satisfaction. He really didn't want to ask. Shit. He couldn't help 
himself. 

"Who?" 

Scully coughed. Mulder grinned. Doggett looked from one to the other. 
Neither spoke.

"Let's just say it's all under control, Agent." Scully said.
That didn't sound very reassuring. 

"Who, Agent Scully?" he repeated.

"Wait and see, Agent Doggett." Mulder said, that shit eating grin 
plastered all over his face.

"I'd rather know beforehand, if it's all the same to you."  

"Spoilsport." Mulder shook his head.

"Please, Agent Doggett. Trust me." Scully pinned him with her eyes. 
"It's taken care of. I'm not at liberty to say any more, at the moment."

Swallowing the dozen or so snappy remarks, Doggett glared and nodded, 
reluctantly. He would trust her. He didn't like it, but he would hold 
his council, for her. But if he caught sight of this seed eating joker 
sitting at the bar, he guaranteed shit was going to fly. He moved behind 
his desk, slapping the folder down, wincing as the photographs spilled 
out.
They were not nice. Doggett felt his nuts shrivelling a little at the 
close ups.  He sat,
unconsciously pulling at his trouser legs.
"What time's kick off?' he asked Scully, holding up the case notes.

"Your place. At eight."

The papers in Doggett's fist folded gently and hung limply as he 
stared, motionless.

Scully glanced at him.   "To prepare. Your place."

There were all sorts of comments he could make to that. Not many of 
them suitable for family viewing. One or two of them might even make Agent 
Scully drop the kid.
He settled for clearing his throat. "Not here?"

"No."
Why the hell not? A petulant voice inside his head whined. 
"May I ask why?"

"Cover."  
Well, this was a fun conversation, Doggett thought, returning the notes 
to the folder. The woman was enigmatic to the extreme. The two of them 
had a thing for oblique answers. Well, fuck it. He was sick of oblique.

"Agent Scully. I hate to presume to question your authority over 
this..." Like hell. "But  since when do undercover ops.  include the agent's 
private residences?"

At least she had the grace to look uncomfortable. Doggett took grim 
pleasure in that.

"I want to make sure everything is secure." She fiddled with the desk 
tidy again.

"Secure?" He was gonna push this all the way.

"No chance of any mistakes." A flash of something flickered over her 
face. "I've seen the bodies in those photographs. I don't want..." She 
dragged in a breath. "I don't want to expose you  to any unnecessary 
risk."

Oh.  Surprise must be written all over his face. Scully gave a 
straightforward smile.

"I care about your safety, Agent Doggett."  
How about that? That was one of the nicest thing she'd said to him. He 
nodded, opening his mouth to speak. Shit. What the hell was he gonna 
say?
Mulder cut into his thoughts, knocking aside anything he had been about 
to say.

"So, Agent Doggett. What're you going to wear?"

Blue eyes screwed up in a wince. "What?"

"Your outfit." Mulder held his hands out and indicated up and down. 
"What look are you going for?" 
There was way too much mirth in Mulder's voice for his liking. He shook 
his head.

"Whadd'you mean, Agent Muldah?"

"You gonna go butch? Preppy?" He unleashed another grin. "How about 
drag? I could see you in a nice little black number with matching handbag 
and shoes."

Underneath the desk, Doggett gripped his thigh tightly. His jaw 
spasmed. He was gonna crack a tooth at this rate. And if he did, he wasn't the 
only agent that'd be going to the dentist.

"Mulder." Scully flicked a pencil at the smirking man. "Enough. Agent 
Doggett. Ignore him. He's trying to press your buttons." She scowled at 
Mulder. "Casual dress is fine."

Mulder couldn't resist.  "Dress? See, I told you, Doggett..."

Another pencil flew.  "Mulder!"

 Breathing through his mouth, Doggett jerked his head at Scully. 
"Jeans, okay, Agent Scully?" He didn't trust himself to look at Mulder. And 
he really didn't trust himself to speak to the other man. The temptation 
to jump over the desk and pound on him was overwhelming.

"Jeans will be fine." She smiled.  "And a tee shirt, perhaps."

"Wasn't planning on goin' bare chested," Doggett muttered, looking 
down, hoping he wasn't blushing.  He didn't need the thought of Agent 
Scully picturing his naked torso.

Mulder couldn't resist. "How disappointing..."

"Go and research something, Mulder." Scully selected a file from the in 
box. "Take this with you." She tossed it to him. 

"You're no fun, Scully," he complained, but wandered  to the door, 
anyway. He waved over to Doggett. "See you tonight, Johnny." 

Oblivious to the nasty look he was getting, Mulder winked. "And don't 
forget that haircut, will you? Our perp. Likes the military look."  
Without waiting for a reply, he grinned at Doggett and  left, whistling an 
Abba tune.

Behind her desk, Scully sighed. "Sorry," she said, shrugging and 
indicating the empty doorway. Doggett grunted, not trusting himself to speak. 
He looked down at the file, sorting through the scenes of crime work. 

Bad enough he should get the short straw with this case, but to have 
Mulder ragging on him made it just peachy. Maybe if he was really lucky, 
someone would catch this maniac before tomorrow night, and he wouldn't 
have to go to some queer bar and act like one of the girls. 
And just how the hell was he supposed to do that?  How did guys behave 
in those places? Was everyone expecting him to...  Images from past 
vice squad videotapes bounced around in his mind.
Shit. 
He rooted in his side drawer for an aspirin. 
Damn Mulder. 
Damn Kersh.
And damn this headache.

                         *

Part 3/16




Friday evening.
Doggett Residence, Falls Church.
7.45 p.m.


John Doggett stood in front of his bathroom mirror, staring without 
seeing. Leaning one hand on the edge of the sink, he dragged his razor 
over his chin instinctively. He was not looking forward to this. Not one 
little bit. The whole thing just wasn't his scene. 

Mulder might be right at home in the Eros Club    probably wouldn't 
turn a hair, but the whole idea didn't lift John Doggett's dress one 
little bit. He grimaced at the analogy. Then sighed.

Okay, okay, maybe he'd been lucky, or unlucky enough to have run into a 
few offers in his time, but he'd never taken them up. Never wanted 
to... Sudden memory of another man's warm hand on his chest in the Marine 
showers... He paused. 
Foam dripped down on his chest. Had he ever wanted to?  Even just a 
little? For curiosity's sake? 
His macho mind skidded away from answering that. It was a stupid 
question. He'd been married,.
Had a son. He was straight. 
And he was about to go into a gay bar and pretend to be right at home. 
Shit. 

What would Rudy have made of this? He'd have laughed his ass off and 
offered to show him the ropes, that's what Rudy would have made of it.  
Doggett smiled through the foam.  Good old Rudy. One of the best Marines 
he ever served with, best drinkers he'd ever gotten slammed with,  and 
the only man who'd ever put his hand on him, without getting punched 
out. 
No   If he'd ever wanted to wander along the road less travelled, he'd 
have wandered down  it hand in hand with Lieutenant Rudy Wallis. He 
grinned at the memory of Rudy drunkenly telling him he'd consider it a 
great privilege to be the one to fuck John every which way to Sunday, 
should he ever get the urge.  

He shook his head, rinsing his razor. Good friend. Regularly told him 
he was very disappointed  John'd never felt the need to take him up on 
the offer.   
The memory sharpened to Rudy lying in the street, still relentlessly 
offering to give John a blow job while his life bled  away. He had been 
royally pissed that the one and only time he got to lie in John 
Doggett's arms, was as he died. 
He was glad he finally gave his friend the kiss he'd asked for every 
day for five years. The look on his face had made it worth the 
embarrassment.. He pushed the memory away. 
See ya, Rudy, man.

He stared in the mirror.  Shit!  What was he doing?
He'd shaved without thinking   it was what he'd do automatically, if he 
was going out on a date.
Damn! What if men all went stubbled to these places?  
He glared at himself. Half done. Oh great. He was neither one thing or 
the other. He shook his head in disgust at his lack of thought, and 
finished the job.  He'd just have to be one of the clean shaven queers.

The sound of the doorbell rang out as he was  finishing up, making him 
jump, cutting his chin.
Shit! Dabbing angrily at the welling spot, he charged out of the 
bathroom and down the stairs. The bell rang again.
"Okay, okay," he yelled. "Keep your panties on!"
He flung the door open and glared at Mulder, standing with his finger 
on the bellpush. 
He had known... Just known it would be him. "I'm not deaf, Agent 
Muldah," he growled.
Mulder's eyebrows jumped. He raked his gaze up and down the body in 
front of him. Doggett remembered his state of undress. He felt himself 
colouring up and fought the urge to cover himself with his hands.

"Nice look, Agent Doggett," Mulder said, nodding. "The whole  wet' 
thing suits you, I think." 
Eyes narrowed, Doggett opened his mouth to tell Mulder to take a flying 
fuck.

"I still think a tee shirt would be an idea, though." Scully stepped 
from behind Mulder's back, a smile of amusement playing on her lips, as 
she did the up and down thing with her eyes. "I have no idea where we'd 
put the wire, otherwise."

Great. Now he knew he was blushing. Shit. Why hadn't he stopped to pull 
a shirt on?
"You'd better come in," he muttered, moving to one side. Chuckling, the 
two of them walked inside. Closing the door without slamming it was an 
exercise in self control.  Out of sight of the other agents, Doggett 
shut his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead on the back of the door.
Damn.

"Okay if we set up here?" Scully called through from the kitchen.

"Sure." He called. He really couldn't give a shit where she set up. 
Alaska would be fine with him. Or even outer Goddamned space. 

"Let's rock and roll, Agent Doggett," Mulder was cheerful to the point 
of obnoxious. Doggett dragged himself from the hall and into the 
lounge.  "Come on. Time's a wastin'. And the man of your nightmares might be 
looking for you, as we speak."  
He pointed at Doggett's head. "Love what you've done with your hair, 
baby."

"Yeah, well." He could feel another wave of colour threatening to 
change the shade of his ears. 
"I read the files, too. Gotta match the profile." The barber in his 
usual shop had raised an eyebrow at the request for a very short back and 
sides, this evening. Asked if he had a hot date. He hadn't bothered 
explaining.

"Mind if I get dressed, first?" He said, conscious of his state of 
undress, and waving a hand at his chest,  moved towards the stairs.

Scully shook her head. "Let me fix the mic, first."  She pulled reams 
of wires out of the briefcase on the counter. "I need bare skin to tape 
to."
Shit. He'd forgotten about that particular joy. 

"Um..." 

"Come on, now. Don't be a baby." Mulder took his elbow and pulled. 
"It's not gonna hurt. Not until she rips it off, anyway." 

Doggett looked pointedly at the hand, then back up to Mulder. He made 
no attempt to move. Getting the point, Mulder let go. "Okay, okay. Have 
it your way."  He turned, yelling. "Scully, tell him!"

"Shut up, Mulder." Doggett walked into the kitchen, annoyance 
overcoming nerves. What was there to be embarrassed about?
She was a Doctor, for heaven's sake. She'd seen bodies before. Okay, so 
hers were usually dead, he told himself, approaching her. Suck it up, 
Marine. Be a man.  
He stood in front of her, squashing his embarrassment. "How d'you want 
me?"

Scully glanced up from the electrical spaghetti. "Dry, might be a good 
start." She nodded to the towel rack. "The tape won't take, otherwise."

"Oh. Yeah."  He snatched a dish towel and rubbed at the damp spots on 
his chest. He gave his face a once over too and tossed the towel in the 
washer. He put a finger to his chin, inspecting. It'd stopped bleeding.

"Nice house." Mulder wandered in, looking at everything.

"Thank you." Automatic response. Product of good manners. He really 
wanted to tell Mulder to sit the fuck down and stop being so goddamned 
nosy, but he held his tongue and walked back to Scully.

"Okay. Dried."
She glanced at his chest again. Didn't seem to faze her, but damn! It 
made him nervous.  Being the only half naked person in the room will do 
that to you. Her head cocked one way then the other.  She held up the 
thin wire.

"I can't decide where to put it."

Mulder sniggered. Doggett turned his head to give him a  look, but 
Scully didn't seem to be paying him any mind.


Doggett's eyes widened. "What?"

"You know. He might feel it if you end up dancing or something."
Shit!  What the fuck? His mind went into overdrive.
 Dancing' was bad enough. He was having a hard enough time with  
dancing'. But the idea of  something' was really doing a number on his 
imagination. 

"Agent Scully..." he began. How was he going to put this? That there 
was no fuckin' way on God's green earth he was going to dance with 
another man, let alone allow  something'.

"Maybe there." She leaned forward and held the wire to his chest, just 
below his sternum. His belly jerked. Scully looked up and grinned. A 
real life, honest to goodness grin. 
"Ticklish?"  

Despite his discomfort, Doggett grinned back down at her. Oh, yes, he 
thought to himself. Very.
But he decided many years ago, that it wasn't very butch, and downright 
foolish, to admit it.
Especially to a woman. So he lied.
"Not so's you'd notice."

"Okay," she said, looking back at what she was doing.
Her fingers were a little chilly, as she moved the wire around, trying 
out different positions. Doggett bit down on the inside of his lip to 
keep from laughing. Torture. It was sheer torture.
Perhaps he should have told the truth. Maybe she'd ease up with the 
touching, if she knew what this was doing to him.
One cool hand steadied itself on  his side, as the wire travelled from 
belly to shoulder, with his partner making little grunts of 
disapproval. He tipped his head back a little, swallowing howls of laughter. If 
she kept this up much longer, he'd either wet his pants or scream himself 
into a heap.

"Make your mind up, Scully. The poor guy's dying with you groping him 
all over."
A relieved breath hissed out between Doggett's lips as Scully 
straightened up. She glanced at the man draped over a kitchen stool.

"I am not groping him, Mulder." She frowned. "This new wire is tricky." 
A lip disappeared between her teeth. "I can't decide the most discreet 
place to put it."

"I..."

Scully held up her hand, without even glancing at Mulder. "No. No 
suggestions, thank you. That's not helping."

Mulder shrugged. "Only offering."
You could offer to fuck off out of my house and not sit there, staring 
at me like a leper at a moisturizing convention, Doggett thought, 
nastily. The other man hadn't taken his eyes off the  tickle fest for a 
second. What was with that?  Whatever Mulder's reasons for staring, fact 
was, it was making him very uncomfortable.

"That's it!" Scully snapped her fingers, making them both jump.

"What's it?" Doggett asked, pathetically grateful she was keeping her 
hands to herself, and  not torturing him any more.

"His help."  She smiled happily and waved her hand. "Get over here, 
Mulder. I want to borrow you."

"Ooh! Talk dirty to me, Scul!" Mulder unfolded himself and hurried over 
to her. 

"Hold him." she indicated Doggett.

"What?" Mulder frowned.


"Agent Scully, I don't need to be held down." He shook his head. "I'm 
not that ticklish. Honest." The last thing in the world  he wanted to 
do, was give Fox Mulder the perverse satisfaction of holding him immobile 
while Scully poked and prodded at his body.

"I don't mean hold you down." She made encircling motions with her 
arms.  "I mean  hold'. Like you're dancing."
Doggett stared at her. She couldn't be serious, he thought. No way.


                         *

Part 4/16


"I beg your pardon?" he said, erring on the side of good manners.

"Dancing." Scully moved her hips and sashayed.
Mulder nodded, understanding far more than Doggett wanted him to.
"Oh yeah, I see where you're going with this. See if I can feel the 
wire."

"Bingo." 

"No." Doggett backed up. "No way."  Abso fucking lutely no way. His ass 
hit the work surface. His hands came up as Mulder approached.

"Hey, Doggett. What's the problem?" Mulder asked, another of those 
grins all over his face.

"You're the problem, Agent." He tried glaring at the other man. It 
didn't seem to be having any effect.

"Come on, Agent Doggett. How else will we know if the wire is 
detectable?" Scully had her
hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. It was one of her I'm going 
to get my own way scowls. 
Not this time, sister, Doggett thought.

"It'll be fine," he snapped.

"No it won't." 

"Come here, Doggett," Mulder grinned, holding his hands out. "Give us a 
cuddle."

"Fuck you." The words popped out without Doggett's permission. Scully's 
eyebrows went up. 

Mulder laughed.  "Maybe later, big boy." 
Glancing at Scully, Doggett rubbed his fingers over his wrinkled 
forehead and bobbed his head.

"I apologise for my language, Agent Scully," he said. He was mortified 
he'd let his temper get the better of him.  His father would have 
whipped his ass for using that word in front of a woman.  Southern manners 
were a pain in the ass sometimes.

"Not a problem, Agent Doggett." Scully shrugged.  "I'm a sailor's 
daughter. I've heard worse."

Mulder chuckled. "She's said worse, too, man." He tilted his head on 
one side. "But I wouldn't push your luck, if I were you. Now come on." He 
held out his arms.
All the other words he could use that would have gotten him a thrashing 
from his Pa ran through Doggett's mind, all the way to a little 
trapdoor marked  common sense'. He knew this was one he was not going to get 
out of with any dignity. If at all. He sighed.

"There's a good boy." Mulder was really going to get it, one of these 
days.

"Behave, Mulder." Scully stepped towards them, the wire dangling. "Try 
this." She slapped the thin mic to his left side, in a none too gentle 
fashion. Doggett got the message. Behave or be hurt.  He reluctantly 
stepped forward. One wise crack. Just one smart assed remark...

"Okay," Mulder said, relentlessly invading Doggett's personal space. 
Big hands went to the top of denim clad hips.
Shit. 
What the fuck? Confusion raced through Doggett's mind. What was he 
supposed to do with his hands?  Where was he even supposed to look, for 
cryin' out loud?

"Come on, Agent Doggett. Make an effort." Mulder pulled on the hips 
under his hands and yanked Doggett forward. Their groins bumped. This was 
way.... way too close.
The growl he was nurturing, threatened to crawl out of his throat. 

"Mulder..." he warned.

"Look," Mulder stared at him, so near that Doggett could smell those 
damned sunflower seeds on his breath.. "How're you gonna get this done 
tonight, if you can't even bear to touch me?"

Scully sucked a breath through her teeth. "He's got a point, Agent 
Doggett. It won't look good on our report if you mess up through latent 
homophobia."

Doggett glared at her. "I'm not a homophobe, Agent Scully."

"Really?" Mulder grinned and bumped their hips together again.

"Really." Doggett snapped back. "I'm a Muldahphobe."

There was a long pause, the ticking of the kitchen clock the only thing 
bold enough to make a sound, and then, peals of laughter bubbled out of 
Mulder. Doggett lean back in surprise. This wasn't the reaction he'd 
been expecting. A punch in the mouth maybe, or a major sulk, but not 
this.
Giggling helplessly, Mulder pulled Doggett into a hug. Shocked, Doggett 
allowed it. He wondered which one of them was unhinged.

"Oh, John Doggett!" Mulder broke away, wiping his face. "That's the 
most honest thing I think you've said to me!"

Doggett looked doubtfully at the man in front of him. "I'm glad you're 
impressed." 

"Oh yeah." Mulder shook his head. "Thank you."

"You're one twisted guy, Fox Muldah," Doggett said, his face creased in 
confusion.

"Better believe it," Mulder replied. "Now where were we?"  The long 
arms snaked back around Doggett's waist. 

"Can you feel it?" Scully asked,  peering between the two of them.
I hope to God she's talking about the wire, Doggett thought, trying not 
to squirm. He could smell Mulder's shampoo, feel every button on his 
shirt. It was making him even more nervous.  And he didn't know why. He 
was sure his ears were turning bright red.

Mulder chuckled. "You do mean the wire, don't you, Scully?"
There was the sound of a small hand slapping someone's back.

"Yes, Mulder. The wire."

"I dunno." To Doggett's chagrin, Mulder wriggled closer. "Maybe if 
I..." 
Mulder pulled closer, slipping his chin up onto a bare shoulder. The 
hands slid up Doggett's sides, brushing across skin, raising goosebumps. 
They wandered across a very tense back.
Instinctively, Doggett raised his own hands and rested them on the 
biceps. Damn. This felt weird. If it was a woman in his arms he could... 
No. Doggett squashed that thought dead.

"I don't think I can feel it. What d'you think, Agent Doggett?"  
Mulder's breath was warm in his ear. Doggett frowned, disturbed by the 
feeling. It wasn't as unpleasant as he would have imagined. And that was as 
distracting as shit. 

"I... er, no." He floundered, embarrassed, wondering what he was 
supposed to be saying. What he was supposed to be feeling. Confusion and 
consternation did battle in his head, both finally giving way to anger. 
"How the hell would I know?" he snapped verging on the edge of his temper. 
“I'm wearing the damn thing."

"Oh yeah."  
Mulder was milking this, Doggett realised. He gripped the arms under 
his hands and pushed roughly away.

"Satisfied?" he asked Scully, keeping his eyes steadfastly away from 
the man in front of him.

"I don't know..." Scully frowned.  She moved to pull the wire from his 
skin. The tape ripped with a bite.

"Ow!" he complained, letting go of Mulder and clamping a hand to his 
side.

"Told you it'd hurt," Mulder grinned.  

"Don't be a baby," Scully admonished, advancing again.

"It stings," Doggett told her. He'd like to see her have sticky tape 
ripped from her skin without complaint.

"Take it like a man, Agent Doggett." Mulder leaned against the counter, 
arms folded. He was enjoying himself way too much, Doggett thought. 
Sick sack of shit. 

"Try here." Scully jabbed her hand forward and slapped the wire in the 
first place she'd tried.  Doggett rolled his eyes. Just like a woman.

"Okay. Fine."  He looked down at the intrusion. Good job he didn't have 
a hairy chest, he thought. That'd be a bitch to pull off.

"Good job you're a smoothie," Mulder remarked. "Skinner nearly went 
through the roof when
he did a tap last year." 
Doggett gave Mulder a sideways glance. He wondered if Mulder had spent 
a lot of time staring at their boss while he'd had a tap fitted, or if 
he was just the lucky one. 

"Well?" Scully waved her hand at Doggett's body. 

"Why don't you try?" Mulder offered. 

"It wouldn't work, Mulder." Scully looked a little uncomfortable.

"And why's that, might I ask?"

She gave him a look. "I'm not tall enough, Agent Mulder. That's why. I 
don't reach the same bits as another man would."

"Ah. I see." A grin. 
Doggett had the sneakiest of feelings that Mulder had known Scully's 
answer before he asked the question. Then suddenly he got it. A flash of 
insight. 
Mulder was just friggin' around.  Messin' with his mind. Well fuck 
that. Two could play dirty.  He reached for Mulder.

"Come here," he ordered.
Pulling the other man  none too gently towards him, he wrapped himself 
around a gaping agent, in a full, tight body hug. 

"What...?"  Mulder gasped, all his breath squeezed out of his body.
Smirking with the sweet sound of victory in his ears, Doggett ground 
himself against Mulder.

"Can you feel that, Agent Muldah?"  He growled in the other man's ear. 
He'd give the smart mouthed SOB something to profile. Have him in 
therapy before you could say Agent Asswipe.

"Um..." It made a pleasant change not to get some smart assed remark.

"Well?" He turned his head away from Scully and whispered in an ear. 
"Can you feel this?" he murmured. 

“Um... No, Agent Doggett."  Mulder struggled against the embrace. "I 
can't feel the wire." It was like holding a panicking cat. Mulder 
wriggled and squirmed.

"Okay...okay. Lemme go!"
Finally laughing for the first time that day, Doggett released the 
other agent. Mulder sprang away as if singed.
"What did you do that for?" he whined.

"Do what?" Doggett grinned his lop sided grin.

"Oh stop fussing, Mulder." Scully had missed the sub text to the 
situation. But he knew damn well Mulder hadn't. He raised an eyebrow, 
challenging him to make something of it. Mulder
looked away,  saying nothing. Two nothin' to the Big Dawg. Perhaps this 
wasn't going to be such a crappy case, after all.

"Was that okay?" Scully looked from one to the other.

"Fine by me," Doggett told her, shrugging.
Mulder made some sort of grunting noise and folded his arms, 
defensively. 

"Is that a  yes', Mulder?"  He grunted again and Scully sighed. 

"Fine." She reached for the roll of tape. "Lets secure that there, 
then."
Stripping off a generous length of tape, Scully's firm fingertips 
pressed the wire flush to Doggett's chest, the radio transmitting tail 
disappearing down towards his jeans.  He watched her work, her tongue 
sticking out from between her lips as she concentrated.
"There you go." She patted the tape. "That shouldn't be too 
uncomfortable." Waving vaguely she indicated his jeans. "You can tuck the tail in 
yourself." 

Doggett grinned, the thought of asking her to do it for him, tickling 
his lips. It'd almost be worth it to watch her blush. The trapdoor of 
common sense slammed in his mind. Maybe not, he re considered, shoving 
the wire down his jeans with his left hand.  She'd probably shoot him.

"What are you going to put on?" she was asking, as she packed away the 
kit.

Doggett looked up, blankly. "Huh?" Oops. Wasn't paying attention. 

She flapped her free hand up and down. "Clothes. On top. What?"
"Dunno." He shrugged, and slipped the latch on the trapdoor in his 
mind. Grinning, he turned to the sulky man by the sink. "Whadd'you think, 
Agent Muldah?" 

"What d'you mean?"

"Whadd'you think I should go for?"  This was actually quite fun. He 
could suddenly see what Mulder saw in baiting people. "Button down or tee 
shirt? Which d'ya think'll look good?"

"Why're you asking me?" Oh, boy, did that man have a pout, when he put 
his mind to it.

"Well, you seemed to have a pretty good  idea about what I'd look good 
in, this morning." Mulder pulled a face.

"Well, Mulder?" Scully folded her arms. A faint smile was playing on 
her lips. 

"Oh, I don't know." Mulder pushed himself off the counter.  "Suit 
yourself."  He stalked off into the lounge.

Scully chuckled. She looked over at Doggett and winked. "Touche, I 
think," she said.

"Oh yeah." Doggett smiled back at her. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?" 
he whispered.




                                   
                              *



Part 5/16


Eros Bar.
Friday night.
9.30 p.m.



The bar was crowed. He'd expected that. 
It was smoky, he'd expected that, too.  
Even the decibel level wasn't totally unexpected.
But he hadn't anticipated the  physical contact. That was taking a bit 
of getting used to.  In his ordinary run of the mill, heterosexual 
existence, a hand on the ass was a sure way of getting a punch in the 
mouth. Here it seemed to be a routine gesture. Sort of like shaking hands. 
Doggett shook his head in self depreciation. His leaning curve was 
steep to vertical. 
They never did courses on this in the F.B.I. training, Ma. 

He pushed his way through the throng, towards the bar. Been here ten 
minutes, and already he'd had more hands on his body than in the prior 
ten months. Actually, he thought, sliding away from another tight squeeze 
on the ass, make that the past coupla years.

The journey across town in the cab, his head had been buzzing, full of 
Scully's de briefing and Mulder's smart remarks. The other agent had 
recovered his health and temper enough to try and make Doggett feel 
uncomfortable about what he was going to have to do here.  Immerse yourself, 
he'd said. Lose yourself in the role, he'd said. There'd been a glint 
in Mulder's eye as he told him to drink, dance, make contact. Make out, 
he'd said, waiting for Doggett to explode.  
But he was wise to Mulder's tricks. He'd just nodded as if taking it 
all in. The lack of rise out of him had driven Mulder nuts, he could 
tell.

"Dance?" 
The heavy set, vested man in front of Doggett barred his path.  Doggett 
shook his head, no. The man looked him up and down, then wandered away. 
Doggett watched him go. Was it just that easy? One word, one shake of 
the head, and the interaction was over.
Amazing. None of the verbal BS involved in a straight bar. He snorted 
to himself. Whole lot simpler. 

He looked around, getting his bearings. The bar should be over there. 
He could really use  a drink. The heat in the club had brought him out 
in a light sweat almost as soon as he set foot inside. 
Good job he'd had that haircut. He could feel what hair that was left 
clinging to his head.
He eased his lean body through a mixture of men that took his 
imagination and rattled it about. There were young men in tight clothes, older 
men in even tighter stuff, and pretty boys in expensive outfits. Quite 
an challenging mixture. 
He was glad he'd opted for tight, white tee with his jeans. He didn't 
think he could have stood anything more. The way it had clung to him had 
made Agent Scully smile, and had made Mulder look away.  There were 
some serious issues, there, Doggett thought. Not that he was going to help 
Mulder resolve them. No way, Jose. 

Reaching the bar, he wedged himself between a couple of lumberjack look 
a likes. They turned to look him up and down. He nodded, pleasantly. 
They looked away. Obviously not their type. 
A grin slid on to his face. Oh well, can't win  em all. He held up a 
hand to the barman.

"Whadd'll it be?" the man yelled over the soundtrack from hell. 

"Club Soda," Doggett yelled back. 
That got him a funny look, but he couldn't afford to get hammered 
tonight. Never mind he might end up as the main course in some freak's 
buffet, he might very well get himself gang banged. And standing knee deep 
in queers, getting his ass groped to hell and back, he was hard pressed 
to think which one was worse.
Another hand made itself known.
Fuck! Doggett scowled. He'd be black and blue tomorrow. He turned 
sideways, to present less of a target and scanned the place, perfectly 
secure in the fact that everyone would think he was just looking for 
someone. He almost laughed at the irony. 

His drink arrived at his elbow, and tossing several bills down, he 
turned to pick it up, his eyes travelling down the bar. What does the perp 
look like? He wondered. Big butch guy, like the beast man in  leather 
over there? Or was he some puny wimp that liked to kill to prove 
himself?
Was he standing next to him? Doggett narrowed his eyes. 
That was a thought to cool a man down. The images of the crime scene 
pictures flickered in his head.

Concentrate, John. He sipped his drink, carefully scanning the crowd. 
His eyes flicked on a pair of dark eyes looking slap bang into his own.
Sipping soda and taking a sudden shocked breath sent liquid down the 
wrong pipe. He sputtered, gasped and spilled drink down his front. Fuck!
He wiped his shirt and looked up again.
About halfway down the bar, sat Walter Skinner. Fuck me, thought 
Doggett. He wiped the back of his hand over his open mouth and gaped.

The A.D. was sitting staring at him, clad in a black tee shirt, sans 
glasses,  a chunky watch he'd never seen before on his wrist. A glass 
came up in a slow salute.
Shit! This was the  unofficial' back up?  Doggett coughed up the last 
of his errant soda. No wonder Scully hadn't wanted to say who it would 
be. The Bureau gossip mill would've had a field day. He raised his own 
glass. Nice to see you sir, he thought to himself. Come here often?
An unexpected hand snaked around his waist, and for the second time, in 
as many minutes, Doggett spilled his drink.

"Sorry, man. Didn't mean to make you jump." A voice behind him sent 
shivers down his back.
He guy was standing so close, Doggett could feel the man's hard on 
wedged in his ass.
JesusMaryandJoseph!

He turned his head to look. "Okay," he said, resisting the overwhelming 
urge to tell the man to back the fuck out of his personal space. Taller 
than him, longer hair. Although that wasn't difficult, after todays 
massacre. Probably a bit younger than the perp profile. He couldn't tell.
He dredged up a weak smile. He was supposed to be in character, after 
all.

The guy grinned and ran his hand up to Doggett's nipple, giving it a 
squeeze.
Shit! The drink nearly went again. Gotta get used to this, John, he 
told himself, taking a deep breath. This might be you know who. He 
wondered if the guy had felt the wire, pressed to his chest.

"Wanna dance, gorgeous?"
Doggett's eyebrows climbed. Okaaaay. So he wasn't going to get used to 
this that quickly.

"Now?" he asked, instantly realising he sounded like a complete doofus.

The tit pincher laughed. "No. Next year. Of course now."  The hand 
squeezed again, and Doggett gripped the glass hard. There were playful 
pinches and there were downright painful ones, and this was way too far 
into the latter for his taste. He placed the glass on the bar and turned 
to face the man behind him, taking the offending hand in his own.

"That hurt," he said, holding the hand in a tight grip.

The guy just grinned some more. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."  Either very drunk, very stupid, or very twisted. Doggett 
wondered which it was.

The guy pulled him towards the packed floor. "C'mon."
Doggett was dragged through the crowd, attached to the tit man by a 
grip of steel. He glanced back to see Skinner's eyes following him across 
the heads of the crowd. Keep me in sight, Boss man, he said, silently.  
The crush was even tighter out here. Men in front, to the side and 
behind. You'd be fucked  if you were claustrophobic, Doggett muttered, 
finding himself forced to move, whether he liked it or not.

"What?" the guy screamed, over the pounding of the music.
Doggett shook his head. He wasn't about to try and have a conversation 
in this noise. He valued his vocal chords.
The thump of the music was hypnotic, if not tuneful. Doggett wondered 
what it was, and if the agents in the surveillance van appreciated it. 
The thought of Mulder having to listen to this shit made him smile.
Taking the grin as some kind of sign, the groper moved in on Doggett, 
grabbing the loops of his jeans and pulling him forward. He lifted 
Doggett's hands and put them around his neck.

"Nice," he yelled, sliding closer.
Doggett bit down on a comment. The back of the guy's neck was all 
sweaty and felt most unpleasant under his hands. The other man gripped his 
waist tight, and ground himself into Doggett's groin. 
Shit. He wasn't being paid enough for this. Thank God this wasn't an 
F.B.I. pay for view. He'd never live down the humiliation of dancing with 
this shmuck. The music dictated the man's thrusts, bumping hard enough 
to hurt. Doggett winced, trying to avoid getting his dick pounded to a 
pulp. 
The man smelled hot and sour. God! Even Mulder had smelled better than 
this loser. What had he got against deodorant? He could feel his own 
sweat trickling down the side of his face, and he hoped to God  he didn't 
smell as bad as this guy.

"Harder," he shouted into Doggett's hot ear. Not a chance, Doggett 
thought. And then a wet tongue shot into said ear, making him yell out in 
shock, and fling the man in his arms away.

"Fuck!" He wiped furiously at the moisture.

"What?" Mr. Licky looked confused. Shit. The guy didn't think he'd done 
anything wrong. Maybe this was a standard operating procedure in gay 
bars. Doggett still glared.  He didn't care if it was standard or not, it 
made his flesh crawl.

"Back off!"  He yelled at the tongue man. Shit   he knew how High 
School virgins felt.

The guy reached for him again. "Okay," he shouted back. "Okay. Slow."
He took Doggett's hands and pulled him close again. This time, the guy 
turned Doggett around.
Allowing himself to be maneouvered, Doggett consoled himself with the 
thought that at least he didn't have to look at the man. Or smell him. 
Fuck. Regardless as to whether this was the perp or not, he'd book 
himself a long, hot steaming shower, later. He tried to relax into the 
dance, trying even  harder to get the pissy look off his face.

He'd hardly begun to relax and move, before the hands began to wander. 
Doggett rolled his eyes. How much more of this shit?  At his age, he 
hadn't expected to feel like a 16 year old  girl, but
he imagined that trying to control a pair of wandering hands was 
straight out of the prom date drawer.
Up to his tits, then down, just as quickly to his groin. Doggett wasn't 
sure which he hated most. 
The sudden sharp pain in his nipples, or the tight squeeze on his 
package. His temper was rising, in direct proportion to the way his balls 
were retreating into his body.
Clenching and grinding his teeth, he pulled the hands first up then 
down, trying to find a neutral spot for them to rest. Feeling the wet 
kisses being planted up and down the back of his neck made his guts twist. 
His belly tightened with anger.  
He was hot. He was bothered, he wanted to sit down, but he really 
wanted to do, was  turn around and punch this guy into the middle of next 
week.
His face screwed up in disgust as that damned tongue licked behind an 
ear.
That was it.

Gripping the hands tightly, Doggett pulled them away from his body. One 
plucked a nipple painfully, the other scratched his crotch. 
Fuck. Enough was enough. Blow the case, screw Kersh and fuck this 
octopus!

"Back off!" he yelled, turning around.

The guy just stared, fuck stupid. His hard on had obviously drained his 
brain. "What?" he said.

Doggett threw the man's hands down. "I said, back the fuck off!" 
Without waiting to see if the guy got the message, he turned and pushed 
his way off the floor. No more. Enough. Furious, Doggett ploughed 
forward, trying to get space between him and the human spaniel. 
He was all for things oral, but shit, he preferred it with his 
Goddamned consent.

"Hey, blue eyes." The man in front of him looked like he was twice the 
width and half as tall again. Not a small man, Doggett felt instantly 
dwarfed.

"Get lost," he snapped. Had he got a fucking sign around his neck that 
read  Fresh Meat'?
A huge hand shot out and planted itself on Doggett's shoulder, 
effectively stopping his forward motion with a bone jarring jerk.

"I said, Hey."  Weighing up his chances against a two legged pick up 
truck, Doggett sighed and did the sensible thing. 

"Hey."

"I like you." 
Terrific. A grizzly bear was in love with him. Why did he have all the 
luck?

"Tha's nice... Look, man. I just wanna get a drink, okay?"

"I'll buy you a drink, pretty eyes."
Oh for fuck's sake.

"That's okay. I have one at the bar." He made a move forward. The paw 
stayed where it was, and so did Doggett. Shit. 

"You got nice eyes." 

Doggett tried squinting them, to put him off. "No, I don't," he said. 
This guy seemed to smell even worse than the last one. Did no one in 
this place have any idea about personal hygiene?
"Yeah, sexy blue eyes." Gentle Ben's big brother moved closer. Towering 
overhead, the man leaned into Doggett. "Gimme a kiss."
Oh shit... This was above and beyond the call of duty. He could just 
picture Mulder in that nice, safe van, pissing his pants with laughter. 
Doggett cringed down, his face a picture of misery. What had he done to 
deserve this case? He must have done more than piss in Kersh's 
cornflakes to warrant this level of sexual abuse.
The hand on his shoulder was grinding into bone. He wished he'd brought 
his gun. He'd have no problem at all putting a round between this big 
ape's eyes. Or in his crotch.
Huge, wet lips loomed into focus. 
Shit. 
Doggett clamped his own lips between his teeth and screwed his eyes up. 
No way... no fuckin' way.

"Is there a problem?"  The deep voice cut through the bass line of the 
racket being churned out over the speakers. Doggett almost whimpered in 
relief.

"Fuck off," The bear told him, almost touching Doggett's mouth.
Opening  wild, panicky eyes on Skinner, Doggett silently begged his 
Boss.
Anything. Take my pick up. Take my house. Anything. Just. Get. Him. 
Off. Me.

"He's with me." A hand reached over the giant shoulder and pulled back. 
The look of surprise on the other man's face was almost laughable, if  
Doggett had been in the mood for levity.

"What?"  The giant turned to face Skinner.

"I said..." Skinner leaned in to the man and bellowed in an ear. "The. 
Man. Is. with. Me."
A pissing contest. This was an alpha male pissing contest. He was being 
fought over like some fainting damsel. Doggett stared in absolute 
amazement. 
Skinner glared, puffing himself up into not inconsiderable bulk. The 
two men stared at each other.
After a moment, the meaty hand came off his shoulder, and Doggett 
sagged in relief, rubbing the sore bit. 

"All yours, man. Didn't know." The bigger man grinned and stepped back, 
relinquishing his trophy to Skinner.
That was it? No bare knuckle fisticuffs? No handbags at dawn?  Great.
The two Fibbies watched the leather covered apartment block move away. 
They looked at each other.


                              *

Part 6/16



Doggett opened his mouth to speak and Skinner took a step forward and 
shook his head.  A large finger touched the middle of his chest. The 
mic. The van. They had an audience.  Doggett nodded his understanding.
If by some quirk of fate, the walking refrigerator happened to be the 
perp, then Skinner had just fucked up big time by rescuing him. But by 
now, Doggett didn't care. All he felt was a pathetic gratitude for being 
saved from a serious tonguing.
He mouthed the words,  Thank you'. 
Skinner grinned at him, and lifted an eyebrow.  He seemed to find the 
whole thing amusing.
Doggett wasn't laughing.  His shoulder ached, his ass was sore, and he 
was all sweaty.
With a vague smirk, Skinner pointed at him, then at his own chest. His 
mouth formed words. ‘You're mine'. Then he laughed for real.

In your dreams, Doggett thought, suddenly fed up to the back teeth with 
being seen as a piece of flesh.  He brought his fist up and unfolded a 
middle finger.  Fuck you', he mouthed back.
That raised Skinner's  other eyebrow and put a look of surprise on his 
face. 
Yeah, well, Doggett thought as he pushed his way to the bar again. 
What's he gonna do? Report me? 
I don't think so.

He pushed forcefully through and grabbed his soda, downing it in a 
couple of long swallows. That felt good. He waved at the barman. Another. 
He ran his hand through wet hair. He supposed it was standing up in 
funny little spikes by now.
Always did when it was wet. Couldn't do a thing with it.
God. He shook his head. Now he was even sounding queer.
He turned his head to wipe his brow on the top of his sleeve. This was 
torture. Too hot. Too noisy, too... fuck. Too everything.

Propping one foot up on the footrest, he snagged his fresh drink and 
took a gulp. His tee shirt was sticking to him. He ran a hand over his 
neck. Damn, he was hot.  And heavy work boots might be the thing to wear 
to gay clubs, but they were making his feet ache. 

"Hi." 
Standing leaning on the bar with his ass thrust out like that was a 
huge mistake. Another hand homed in on his rear.  Doggett sighed. This was 
getting real tedious. He spoke without turning.

"Not interested."  The hand disappeared.
That worked well. Maybe if he kept doing it, then he'd get through the 
rest of this Goddamned nightmare without being molested. The music 
changed tempo, sliding into a more romantic beat.
Thank God, thought Doggett, rolling his eyes heavenward. My poor head 
and ears thank you.

"May I buy you a drink, sir?"  The hand that rested on the bar was long 
and elegant. There were rings on each of the fingers. He could feel 
another hand, running lightly down his spine.
Oh my God, thought Doggett. Priscilla, Queen of the desert. Not in a 
million years.

"No thank you," he said, not looking round. 

"Are you quite sure?" The hand was stroking quite gently. Well at least 
it made a pleasant change, Doggett thought. A change from being 
pinched, squeezed and groped. But the answer was still no.

"I'm sure, thank you." Manners cost nothing.

"That's  a real shame." The low voice sounded disappointed. He was 
managing to piss off quite a number of people tonight. Everyone he ran 
into, actually. Doggett gave a grim smile. His ex wife would be proud of 
him.

"Yeah, well. Life's full of disappointments." he told the voice. "Get 
over it."  

"I'd rather get over you." The stroking was not entirely unpleasant. 
Hypnotic.

Doggett  shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't."

"You're very handsome." At least this guy was polite. 

"And you're very kind. But I'm not interested."

"Then why are you here?" 
Shit. Busted. He opened his mouth to think of a snappy answer.

"He's waiting for me." 
Oh for the love of God. Skinner again. Doggett turned his head to glare 
over his shoulder. The man was being ridiculous.

"No I'm not," Doggett snarled at both of them, letting his temper show 
in his voice.  He was a grown man, for God's sake, he could decide for 
himself what he was doing at any given time. He didn't need a 
nursemaid, a warden or a pimp.

"Oh? Is that so?" The man with the gentle fingers fluttered them over 
Doggett's ribcage.

"Yeah," Doggett answered, belligerently. Fuck Skinner. What was he 
playing at? Mr. White Knight to the rescue? He straightened up. Those 
fingers were tickling.  "I'm not waiting for anyone."
Skinner stared, his face blank. Doggett couldn't read what was going on 
inside his head. 

"So." 

Doggett looked as the man spoke to him. 

"Perhaps a dance?" 

No thank you, Doggett thought, I don't dance with men. But instead, 
what he said was: "Yeah." 
Skinner blinked and the man took Doggett's hand with a smile.
Oh shit. Doggett looked down at their joined hands, what he'd just 
agreed to, dawning on him.
Now what was the hell was he going to do?  He frowned at his stupidity. 
Pig headedness and a big mouth gets him into the shit once again. He 
was being pulled towards the dance floor. Oh crap.

"I don't think so." Skinner's hand shot out to grab Doggett's trailing 
hand.
Hang on a Goddamned minute. What was he   some kind of bitch trophy?  

"What d'you think you're doin'?" he snarled at his superior.
Skinner said nothing. Just stared at him. Doggett tugged experimentally 
on his hand. It wasn't
going anywhere.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, let me go." The other guy was still pulling him. 
This was ridiculous.
Tug of whore. The three of them were moving into the crush.
Doggett stared at Skinner. The man was acting crazy. Was he nuts? This 
is what Scully and Mulder had told him he was supposed to be doing. 
Dancing, making contact. Sweat gleamed on Skinner's  head. Maybe he was 
dehydrated. Could he be sick?

What's wrong?' he mouthed at Skinner, conscious of the mic.
Skinner shook his head, tilting it to the other man.  As if on cue, the 
man on the other end of him, halted. He looked at Doggett.

"Coming?" he said. 
Doggett looked past his fit of pig headedness to what Skinner saw. The 
stroker was about thirty or so. Dressed nice. Spoke well. Could he be? 
He felt Skinner's grip tighten. Oh shit.

"I...er," Oh crap, crap, crap. He swallowed. No need to panic. No good 
reason to think...

"Well? Are you coming with me, or are you indeed with him?"  
Doggett looked from one to the other. How did he get into this shit?

"I'm..." He swallowed, hoping the God of Government agents and the guys 
in the surveillance van  weren't listening too closely. "I'm with him."  
He wondered if the disco lights hid the warmth he felt creeping over 
his face.

"Very well." The man released Doggett's hand. "Perhaps you'll allow me 
to watch you dance, then."
Not so long as there's little blue fishes in the sea, Doggett told 
himself.

"Why?" he asked, very aware that Skinner still had his hand in a tight 
grip. His hand was very hot. 

"For my gratification. And for the humiliation of being spurned." This 
guy was seriously creepy.

Doggett swallowed.  "And if I say no?"

The stroker smiled. "Who knows," he said. "Perhaps we shall meet again. 
When you are without your guardian."
Not really a threat. Nah. Not in the true sense of the word. Besides, 
he had a gun... Usually.
Despite the comforting  thought of firearms, he could feel a trickle of 
sweat running down his spine. This whole thing was seriously fucked up.  
Time to cut loose.

"I don't think..." 
Skinner's spare hand came up and planted itself in the centre of his 
chest. Doggett  looked down stupidly at it. The big fingers were pressing 
the mic deep into his skin. They'd never be able to hear if he... 
The penny dropped.

"Of course," Skinner spoke, squeezing Doggett's hand. "That's not a 
problem. You can watch." He pulled Doggett towards him.

"I don't think..." Doggett said again, the tops of his ears radiating 
warmth.

"Shhh,  John. It's okay." 
Doggett gaped. What the hell was this... John' business? The A.D. moved 
his hand from the microphone, and slid it up to the back of Doggett's 
neck, where it proceeded to squeeze gently.
Eyes wide as hub caps, Doggett floundered, trying to argue as he was 
guided inexorably against the black tee shirt.
Shit!  There must be something in the F.B.I. Rule book about this.  
Thou shalt not dance with thy superiors', or something. Perhaps if he 
punched him out? 
He was almost as tall as the A.D., but nowhere near so packed in the 
muscle department. He might be able to take him on a good day... Maybe.  
The hand on his neck squeezed ever so slightly.
Maybe not.

Skinner let go of Doggett's hand, moving to place the hot palm on 
heaving ribs. Eyes still locked on full beam, Doggett stared, outrageously 
aware of being pressed firmly up against a wide chest, held still by 
arms much larger than his own. A pair of calm, dark eyes stared back.  
Doggett tried to breathe normally.  No. Too smoky, too hot. He opened 
his mouth to drag a steadying lung full in.  He had a feeling his panic 
was broadcast by his glowing ears and wild eyes. Skinner turned his 
head and moved towards Doggett, puttin his lips close to an ear. The huff 
of his breath made Doggett flinch.

"Okay?" The deep voice said. Doggett wasn't sure to whom he was 
speaking, the   maybe' perp, or him.
The thought hit him cold, in the belly. Perp. Murderer. Maniac. 
The photographs from the case flooded into Doggett's' mind.  Shit. He 
could live without recalling those, right now. Actually, he could live 
without becoming the next set of those pictures. So maybe Skinner was 
right. 
He tentatively put his hands on the A.D.'s waist. 
God! The things he did for his country. Maybe if he just shut his eyes, 
it'd all go away.

Gradually, the pressure on the back of his head eased a little, as if 
testing to see if Doggett would bolt. It was like a scene from a pervy 
version of the Horse Whisperer. He smiled. Funny. 
Then another funny thought occurred to him. The A.D. was dancing with 
him, and it wasn't as awful as he'd imagined. 
Not that he'd ever imagined this... Christ! 
But the man had a sense of rhythm, at least. And his hands were staying 
in one place. That had to be something. One was in the small of his 
back, the other resting on his neck. Just resting, now, not holding him 
down tightly. 

Doggett sighed. He should really make a move to get away.  Surely the 
perp had had enough of an eyeful.
He stayed where he was. Funny how his chin seemed to fit nicely into 
the crook of Skinner's neck. 
The warmth from the other man's face against his was calming.
He sighed again. And thank God, Skinner smelled good, too. Better than 
those other guys. In fact, he realised with a jolt, this was really 
quite... He frowned, thinking.
Well, nice, was as good a word as any.
On his back, a thumb was moving lazily in time with the music. Up and 
down his spine. Up and down.
The hand on his head stroked the bristles at his nape. Gently. Almost a 
caress. He snorted softly.
A caress... Yeah, right. But he made no move to stop it, all the same.

"You okay?"  The question was his, he knew it, this time. The whisper 
was right up against his left ear, hot on his skin.  Doggett felt 
himself give an involuntary shiver. He nodded into the tee shirt. Not so bad, 
he thought. 
Been better, been worse.
Better than being served up for dinner on a dirty sidewalk.
He moved his hands up to the A.D.'s back, spreading his fingers, 
pulling the other man closer. He could do this. No problem. 
He could always pretend it was a woman. He thought about that for a 
while, then dismissed it. 
No. That wasn't right. It felt different, bigger. More solid. 
Maybe it was just that he didn't feel like he had to be the protective 
one, the tough guy. He ran his hands over hard muscle. No way he had 
imagination enough to pretend this was a woman.  
Besides, he'd never done a woman the disservice of imagining she was 
someone else, so he wouldn't insult Skinner like that.
And another thing, it smelled different. Dogget inhaled, 
experimentally. Yeah. Locker rooms and... ghosts of a barrack room.

Rudy Wallis entered his mind again, for the second time that evening.  
Doggett bit back a chuckle.
What the hell would Rudy have made of this?  Would he be pleased that 
Doggett was finally wrapped in a man's arms, moving sensuously to sappy 
music? Or would he be pissed that it was some other man's arms, and not 
his own?  Doggett remembered the touch of Rudy's hand on his  chest 
that day in the shower, remembered the look in his eyes. 
Pissed. Oh God, he would be royally pissed. 
Sorry, Rudy, my man.

He felt the scratch of beard, as Skinner breathed into his neck. 
Sorry I never dared dance with you, Rudy.  He hugged Skinner tight, 
remembering years before. 
God... You'd have loved this.  
Turning his head slightly, eyes still closed against stinging eyes from 
the bomb blast, Doggett kissed the side of Skinner's neck without 
conscious thought. 
I should have swallowed my stupid pride and kissed you  before, he 
thought. Instead of waiting for two minutes too late. 
I'm sorry Rudy. 

A large hand moved down to hold his rear. Doggett didn't flinch. It 
held him tight against the man in his arms, pressing their hips together.  
They swayed to the music. This was real nice. Hot enough for Beirut, 
but... He frowned against a damp neck.  Beruit?  He'd never danced in 
Beruit.
Where the hell was he?
Doggett's mind did a helpful rewind of the last couple of minutes, 
wrenching his shocked eyes open when he got to the bit...
Shit. He. Just. Kissed....

Oh fuck. He was dead. No question. Might as well lie down and put 
ketchup on his dick   Skinner would be handing him over to the killer on a 
platter. Doggett braced himself for impact.
The hand on his neck just carried on stroking. The hand on his ass 
never twitched.
Why wasn't he freaking out? Doggett wondered. This was seriously weird.
Never mind Skinner, he thought, he was the one who just kissed another 
man. How fucked up was that? 
The trapdoor in his head, right next door to  Common Sense' and 
labelled  Self Awareness', flapped open, spilling out an uncomfortable 
thought.
Not nearly as fucked up as the idea that you're dancing with this man, 
and getting into it in a big way.
Doggett frowned. A big way?  Get outta town. Nah. Not him.

Skinner moved his hips slightly, and Doggett's homed back in, with a 
will of their own. They circled around, cat like, then stilled, tight 
against what felt most definitely like a...
Oh. 
My. 
God. 
Skinner had a boner. 
The concept dried Doggett's throat, making it hard to swallow his 
shock. 
Oh shit. Oh shit.
The trapdoor flapped, unleashing another uncomfortable home truth. Take 
a look downstairs, Big Dog, it said. So have you.

A small noise wriggled out of Doggett's parched throat. 
Skinner pulled his head away from Doggett's neck, and bracing the other 
man with his hand, looked carefully.

"You okay?" he asked very softly. Doggett hoped it was too soft for the 
mic to pick up. Please God, let it be too soft for the mic. 
Doggett wet his lips. Was he okay? The whole question seemed too big to 
know how to start answering it.

Skinner spoke again.  "John?" 

"Huh?"  All his mental trapdoors were bolted. Nailed shut and barred. 
Skinner brought his thumb round the side of Doggett's neck and rubbed 
the side of his jaw.  It slid over the damp, freshly shaven skin. 
Doggett stared up slightly into dark eyes that seemed unconcerned with 
anything other than asking if he was okay. 
God! What a question.
Maybe he was okay yesterday, and maybe he'd be okay tomorrow. But right 
now, Doggett's world was narrowed and tilting crazily, with all roads, 
less travelled or not, leading towards  a very hard reason to not be 
okay,  in his pants.

"I'm..." He cleared his dry throat and tried to keep his voice low and 
steady. "I'm kinda strugglin' here, sir," he whispered. Understatement 
of the century.
There was a smile on Skinner's mouth, just a little one,  quirking up 
one corner. 

"Yeah." He nodded.  "I know." 
Doggett swallowed again he had to explain. He had to excuse what was 
going on without his permission, in his pants. 

"I'm not..." he told himself and Skinner. 

The thumb rubbed up and down.  "I know." 

"I don't..." 

Skinner smiled properly.  "I know."
Doggett frowned.  Couldn't the man say anything else? And why did he 
have to keep doing that thing with his thumb. It was driving him nuts.
"It doesn't matter."

Either his brain was fried, or Skinner's was. Must be the heat . "What 
doesn't matter?"

"What you are." He leaned closer. "Or not."
Okay. This was just nuts. Certifiable. Off the wall. He wasn't making 
any sense to himself, and Skinner made even less. This  oblique' shit 
must be catching.
Doggett blinked several times. Fuckin' great. Now his eyesight was 
going. Either that, or Skinner was getting closer. 
Nah.
Oh shit.

The bigger man was homing in. Pulling his head towards him. Doggett 
opened his mouth to speak.  Someone had to put the brakes on this crazy 
shit. This was as far into role play as he wanted to venture.

"I don..."  Was all he managed before Skinner's mouth covered his.
Fuck.
Two hands jerked in surprise on Skinner's back, and his belly rolled 
over then tightened. Holy shit!


                         *

Part 7/16



The hands on his face and ass held him in place while he was firmly 
thoroughly kissed. Out of control with curiosity, his brain fired 
questions at him in an insane spray of demands, while his body tried 
desperately to sort out the torrent of physical input.  Was this how it felt to 
be kissed like a woman? Was this the way he did it to women?  Was it any 
different? 
Skinner's mouth is hot, it told him, stupidly. And wet. And hard. Those 
were just the basics, Doggett told himself.  There's a damn sight more 
going on here, than just that.
Hello? This is a guy kissing you, his logical mind pointed out. 
Like I could miss that one, Doggett thought, feeling the scratch of 
stubble and the ridge of another man's erection  pressed up against his. 
And that in itself was another thing on his mind.  Far from shrivelling 
up in shock, his dick was raging in his jeans, indignant at its 
constraint. Tonight's entertainment is brought to you by the letter F, for 
Fuckin' hell...
How about that? Did someone forget to tell my dick I'm straight?
That's as maybe, his body asked, but doesn't it feel damn good?  
Yeah. 

Yeah, he had to reluctantly admit that it did.  Doggett's eyes slid 
shut as he gave a thin groan. This man sure knew how to kiss. A silky 
tongue was sliding in and out of his mouth, sending waves of lust down to 
his groin and clouding his brain. His dick throbbed. 
Fuck it.  Doggett angled his head to allow Skinner to go deeper.
You bastard Rudy, you  never told me it would feel like this.

Had it been  minutes? 
Hours? 
Doggett hadn't the faintest idea. The kiss had stretched out in languid 
and erotic elastic and around the two of them, shutting out the noise, 
smoke and heat.  Completely focussed on giving and receiving the best 
kiss he could recall in a coon's age, Doggett leaned in and gave as good 
as he got. Which was pretty much everything, and very nearly too much.
With a gasp, he pulled away. Air. His chest heaved in protest. 
His cock ached in protest. 
His logical mind had given up protesting in the face of such naked, 
furious lust.

"Shit..." he gasped out. He ran his tongue over wet lips and stared at 
the face in front of him, studying it as if for the first time. Dark 
eyes regarded him. 

"Okay?" 
That same damned question again.

"Maybe," he answered, hoarsely giving nothing away. 

"Why'd you stop?" Skinner asked, running his hand up the side of 
Doggett's face and into his savagely short hair.
Doggett arched his head into the caress. Why had he stopped? 
That was the $64,000 question wasn't it?  He hadn't stopped because 
everyone could see. He hadn't stopped because it was wrong. Or even 
because this was his superior.  He smoothed the tee shirt over Skinner's 
back, thinking.  He had to say something.  The eyes with ridiculously long 
lashes gazed back patiently. 
After sharing a kiss like that, the truth was the only honourable thing 
he could offer.
He leaned in.

"Because if you'd kept doin' that,"  he whispered close to Skinner's 
ear.  "I'd have disgraced myself in my jeans... Sir." 
Laughter rumbled up out of Skinner's chest. He hugged Doggett tight 
while he rocked, helplessly  giving in to his mirth.
Grinning at the absurdity, Doggett clung on, squashing the mic between 
them. He idly wondered what Mulder and the team made of the noise that 
was emerging from the A.D.
More comfortable minutes passed. Eventually, Skinner calmed and pushed 
himself away. He gripped Doggett's biceps and looked him up and down, 
eyes lingering on his crotch long enough to make Doggett squirm 
slightly.

"What?" he whispered.
"Just looking," Skinner replied softly.

"Yeah, well..." 

"I want..." It was Skinner's turn to hesitate. Doggett tilted his head 
up to look into his face.

"What?"
Letting go of one arm, the A.D. put his hand between them, and laid it 
over Doggett's crotch.
Unable to help himself, Doggett jumped a little. Skinner grinned at the 
reaction and spoke firmly.

"I want..." 
Doggett pulled a face and tapped his chest. Too loud. He jerked the 
other man towards him again, trapping his hand.  He put his lips to 
Skinner's cheek.

"Quietly," he told him, pausing to inhale the scent of the skin under 
his lips. Shit, he was getting used to this in record time.

"I want to do something about this," Skinner said, gently squeezing 
Doggett's package. Doggett groaned and thrust forward. Fuck, the pressure 
was killing him. His pushed his hips again. Screw the Bureau, screw the 
case, and screw that he was straight. He wanted to do something about 
that dammed handful, too. 

"Oh..." he said, dropping his head to Skinner's shoulder again. He'd 
better quit that real soon.
The hand began a rhythmic motion. No... oh shit, no. The friction was 
exquisite.
"Not now..." he gasped into Skinner's neck. "God, not now."
He could feel, rather than hear that laughter again. Bastard, he was 
teasing. Doggett pulled away and glared. 
Nodding, Skinner pulled his hand away, leaned forward and kissed him 
lightly, in apology.   Doggett accepted it, wondering if he falling down 
the pink equivalent of a rabbit hole. Nothing to 100 miles an hour in 
the space of a kiss.

"Okay. Not now," Skinner whispered. "But soon."
Better be soon, Doggett thought, swallowing the tension. Or his balls 
were going to explode. He rested his forehead to Skinner's, closing his 
eyes.

"Yeah."

"Promise," Skinner told him, rubbing his arms.

"I'm gonna shoot you if you're lyin' to me," Doggett replied, 
surprising himself by  meaning every damned word.

"Deal."
Doggett looked up. This was... Well, weird didn't even begin to come 
close, any more. Here he was standing in a gay club, held tight in his 
superior's arms, who happened to be another guy.  And he wasn't screaming 
to get away. He wasn't punching the guy out for having kissed him,
shit... He was even letting him do it again.
Guess what? He was standing slap bang in the middle of a his own 
personal fucking X File.  Letter A, for Amazing. 
"Deal," he agreed. Then he angled his head and kissed Skinner. Not as 
hard as he had been kissed, but not bad for a beginner, all the same.

"Federal Agent! Everyone stay where you are!"
The voice cut between Doggett and Skinner, slicing them apart like a 
couple of scalded cats.

"Fuck!"  Doggett spun around, looking  for the voice.  The music died, 
the lights came on, and Doggett could see the crowd parting over the 
other side of the club as a swathe of black and gold FBI jackets moved 
in.

"Nobody move!"  That was Mulder's voice. Doggett threw a glance over 
his shoulder, but Skinner had melted into the crowd. He frowned. Was that 
a sliver of disappointment?  He shook his head. Get real, Marine, he 
told himself, you really wanna get caught lockin' lips with the A.D.?
He grinned at himself, pleased to feel his familiar one sided grin 
back. At least that felt something like normal. He glanced down at his 
jeans. No evidence there. The fright of hearing the words  Federal Agent' 
had scared his boner away quicker'n a cold shower. 
Mulder and the others were cutting through the crowd, making their way 
over to where Doggett stood. 
Shit. What was going on? Had they overheard on the mic? Cold panic 
threatened to roll Doggett's stomach. 

"Agent Doggett!" Someone was calling his name.  "Agent Doggett!"

"Over here," he  replied, holding up a hand. His other hand quickly 
wiped his mouth. He was being stupid. No one could tell he'd been making 
out. Not as if Skinner was wearing lipstick... Jesus.

"Agent Doggett."  It was one of the new guys, on probation from Vice. 
"It's all over. Case is closed." The young agent waved his hand behind 
him. "We got him."

"Agent Bryant," Doggett scowled. "Keep details to a minimum in the 
public domain."  

The young man blushed.  "Yes, sir. Sorry sir."
Real Life was flooding back to him now. Her cleared his throat. No 
problem. 

He looked around. "Where's the Agent in charge?"

Bryant indicated behind. "Agent Scully's outside. She said to defer to 
Agent Mulder."

"Okay."  Wiping his hands down his jeans and fighting the urge to look 
for Skinner, Doggett walked forward. "Let's go."
The walk across the dance floor was surreal. The men parted like extras 
from the Red Sea. They all stared. Mr. Licky was staring at him with a 
very ill expression on his face. Doggett took vicious pleasure in 
staring back and watching the colour drain from his face.  Try pinching my 
tits now, perv, he thought. 
The huge guy in the leather was open mouthed.  Doggett nodded at him, 
as he walked past, almost smiling when the giant stepped away.  Not such 
a tough guy. 
Mulder was standing by the Emergency Exit, in conversation with a 
skinny Drag Queen.

"You'd be willing to testify to that?" Mulder was saying.

"Uh huh." The queen was staring up at Mulder in awe. Not quite 
drooling, but near enough.  Doggett nodded at Mulder. "Agent."

Mulder nodded back. "Take your information to the guy over there, and 
he'll arrange for someone to take  your statement."

The guy's huge sparkly eyelashes fluttered. "Can't you do that?" he 
simpered.

"No." Mulder smiled. "I'm far too important." He turned to Doggett as 
the 
Drag Queen minced away. "Hey. Have any fun?"
Doggett stamped down on the rising annoyance. It was on the tip of his 
tongue to tell Mulder exactly what kind of fun he'd had, but he just 
shook 
his head.

"You never give up, do you, Agent Muldah?"

Mulder grinned. "Better believe it, Agent Doggett."  Bizarrely, a 
sunflower 
seed flew into the air and into Mulder's mouth. "We got him."

"The killer?"

"No. Ronald McDonald." He rolled his eyes. "Of course the killer. Out 
there."
Doggett didn't think Kersh would put up much of a fuss if he took out 
Mulder's issue and just shot the joker in the head. It'd be doing 
everyone a 
favour.

"Show me." Moving past Mulder, Doggett pushed the bar to the Exit and 
hit 
the night air with relief. It was cold enough to raise goose bumps on 
his 
body, but glorious after the heat in the club.
Pulling the tails of his tee shirt up with one hand, Doggett roughly 
ripped 
the wire from his chest.  He welcomed the sharp pain, glad to get the 
instrusive thing off his body. Wordlessly, he handed it over to Mulder.

"Uh. Gee, thanks, Doggett," he said, taking the mic between two 
fingers.
There were a circle of officers and agents standing around in typical 
post 
case donut and coffee stance, talking, shooting the shit.

"There," Mulder said from behind, pointing.
Sitting against the alley wall was a man clutching a pair of black 
jeans and 
the remains of a white tee shirt. Even from twenty feet away, Doggett 
could 
see he was trembling fit to bust. He was holding a Styrofoam cup in one 
hand, spilling most of it over the wreckage of his clothes. Agent 
Scully was 
crouching in front of him.
Doggett moved over for a closer look. Scully looked up as he approached 
and 
nodded.
Biting back a comment, Doggett stared. The guy was him.
Well, no. That was just crazy. But it was a near thing. Real short 
hair, tee 
and jeans. Like Mulder had said, skinny and  mature'.
Shit.
A shiver ran through him.

"Are you alright, Agent Doggett?" Scully asked, standing with her hands 
on 
her back.
He nodded, thinking : No. You must be joking.

"Good job, Agent Scully." He pointed at the intended victim. "Saved 
number 
four."

Scully nodded. "Yes. Just."

"You shoot the perp?" He needed to know. He hoped they had. Would have 
been 
fine by him to blow the sick shit away, whoever it was.
She shrugged, moving side to let the paramedics see to the near victim 
on 
the floor. As he stood up, Doggett could see the poor bastard had wet 
himself. He looked away.

"Shoulder wound." She sounded as disappointed as he felt.

Mulder stood behind her. "Take a look, Agent Doggett. See if you saw 
him in 
there."
He didn't want to. Shit, he really didn't want to look. He didn't want 
to 
put a face to the activities he'd seen in those photographs.

"Sure," he said. Because he was a good F.B.I. agent and that was what 
was 
expected of him.
He moved to the back of the meat wagons, Mulder and Scully following. 
The 
red flashing lights of the ambulances were bathing everything with 
their 
bloody touch. It seemed apt, somehow. Fit
the mood.

"Wait up, guys," Mulder called, halting the loading of the gurney. The 
medics paused and reluctantly, Doggett moved to stand by the stretcher.
He had a sick feeling in his gut. There was no need for him to look. He 
knew 
what he was going to see. Knowing his luck, knowing the jokes that God 
sometimes liked to play. It was so obvious he felt a bubble of laughter 
in 
his belly.  The club soda murmured in his stomach.
Well, this was no great surprise.
On the sheet, lay a hand with rings on every finger. The lights bled 
scarlet 
on the gold. The hand looked dipped in blood.
Doggett  could suddenly taste his evening meal.



                              *

Part 8/16



"Yeah. I saw him." He didn't want to get any closer. He could still 
feel the 
tickle of those fingers on his back, his ribs. Shivering, he turned.  
"He 
was in there."
Electricity surged up his arm as he was grabbed. Jumping in fright out 
of 
all proportion to the threat from a man with a bullet in him, Doggett 
tried 
to snatch his hand back.  It stayed trapped  in the long fingers.

"Hello, handsome." The voice was still soft, still cultured. It made 
Doggett's skin crawl.
"Don't," he said, pulling his hand.

"You have nice eyes." Club soda and lasagna threatened to make an 
appearance 
on the floor at his feet.

He pulled a face, swallowing hard.  "Shuddup, you freak."  The lights 
hid 
the blush on his face. He was grateful for that.

"I only took him because you wouldn't come, you know."
He could practically feel Mulder and Scully exchanging a look, behind 
him.
The rings were digging into his flesh. The perp was stronger than he 
looked. 
Doggett didn't want to touch the hand, but he didn't want to be held, 
more. 
He pulled at the fingers.

"Let go." Panic and pasta, rising. Not professional to blow chunks all 
over 
a prisoner.

"I would have been better for you. Better than that other one."
Shit! Oh shit... not caring what it looked like to the other agents, 
Doggett 
tore at the fingers, desperate to get away before  anything else came 
out of 
that putrid mouth.

"Agent Doggett?" Miles away, Scully was speaking to him. He clawed at 
his 
hand, hurting himself but not caring.  His ears were burning with 
mortification.

"Did he make you hard?" The soft voice sounded as loud as a scream in 
the 
blood red night.  Doggett wanted to scream.

"You should have chosen me."
Enough. He would break every fucking one of these fingers if that was 
what 
it took.

"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled.

"Hold me like you held him."

"Shut up!!"

"Let me kiss you like..." With a wrench and howl, Doggett pulled his 
hand 
free and staggered away. He stumbled a couple of steps away, hands over 
his 
ears, trying to block out  anything else.
Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Agent Doggett!" He heard that. Mulder shouting.
He wasn't going to turn round. No way. No fucking way. Breathe. Calm 
down.

"Agent Doggett."  Scully touched his back. Doggett jumped. Shit. He was 
a 
nervous as a...
Shit. He was going to think, as a virgin in a prison yard, but all 
things 
being equal, his mind shied away from that particular analogy. His 
hands 
fell from his head. They felt a bit stupid pinned up there, anyway. 
Looked 
as if he was hiding his taxi door ears, like some kid.

"Agent..." she paused. "John."
She'd never called him that before. Her hand was moving in little 
circles on 
his back. He knew his tee shirt was wringing wet, and it probably felt 
horrible under her hand, but she was doing it anyway. Trying to make 
him 
feel better. Doggett sighed and looked up.

"I'm all sweaty," he apologised.

"Doesn't matter." She stared at him
Her blue eyes were looking straight at him. daring him to stare back.  
"Are 
you going to be
okay?" Not are you okay? She could probably guess he wasn't okay. He 
had to 
give her points for that.
He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Good."
They smiled a little at each other. He appreciated her blunt approach. 
No 
B.S.
"If you need anything..."

He shrugged. "Nothin' a damn good shower and sleep won't put right, 
Agent 
Scully."  He gave her the Doggett patent grin, hoping she'd believe the 
lie. 
He didn't think he could go into any details right now. Actually, most 
of 
the details about tonight, but that was another matter.

"Right." Scully waved over to Mulder. "Let's get you a ride home. You 
can 
write up the report tomorrow and file it on Monday."

Mulder jogged over to them. "Yeah?"

"Agent Doggett needs a ride home. Can you grab one of the Bureau cars?"
Mulder looked from one to the other, the finer points of the evening 
just 
oozing from his curiosity bag.

"Okay," he said, turning and striding away, his compliance with Scully 
amazing Doggett.
He waved his hand after the retreating back. "How'd you do that, Agent 
Scully?"

She just smiled one of those Scully smiles and took her hand from the 
small 
of his back.. "Trade secret, Agent Doggett."  They moved towards the 
road. 
Both ambulances pulled away through the confusion.

"Thanks." he said, not elaborating.

Scully turned and nodded.  "No problem." She glanced sideways. "Did you 
spot 
your back up?" Doggett's stomach dropped into a bucket of ice.

"Back up?"

Scully smiled. "Our unofficial, undercover back up."
He had two, maybe three heartbeats to decide what to say. Yes, he saw 
Skinner. Or no, he didn't see him. Even yes, I saw him and spoke to 
him. 
There was even   yes, thank you, I saw him, and he dances like a champ, 
and 
kisses even better.
No maybe not. He'd hate to see her drop that kid on the alley floor.
Decision, decisions.
They reached a car with its door open. Mulder was giving the driver 
instructions.

"I saw him." He turned to look at his partner. Was it dark enough to 
hide 
his taxi doors  turning red?

"Kind of hard to miss, isn't he?"

He grinned. "Kinda."
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He was suddenly so tired he 
didn't 
know what to do with himself. It felt as if someone had put him through 
an 
industrial wringer. A yawn took him by surprise. Scully chuckled.

"Get some rest, Agent Doggett."

He nodded. "I intend to sleep for a week, Agent Scully."

She laughed. "So, I'll check up on you around lunchtime, then?"

He grinned.  "That'd be good."
He climbed into the back of the car and sagged. Scully slammed the 
door, and 
the driver took off. Turning to raise a hand, he watched the other two 
agents standing in the wet alley, watching him leave. He wondered what 
they 
would say about tonight in their reports.  And what they would be 
saying to 
each other about it. About him.

As the car sped through the night towards Falls Church, Doggett decided 
he 
was just too damned tired to care much. Maybe he'd care again tomorrow, 
maybe it wouldn't be so complicated after a good nights' sleep. Oh 
yeah. And 
a shower.
The car pulling up woke him.
Home.
He peeled his damp shirt from the leather seats with a face and climbed 
out.

"Thanks," he said to the driver, and reached for his key. God, he 
needed 
that shower.
The car sped off. Obviously just been on a training course about 
defensive 
driving. Doggett smiled to himself, as the car took the corner on two 
wheels.
He turned and slipped the key in the door. Habit forced him to scan the 
street before opening up.
There was a car on the verge across from his house. The detective in 
him 
gave it the once over.
Make, model, registra.... Damn. He knew that car. Knew who owned it. He 
narrowed his eyes and looked through the windshield. The figure raised 
a 
hand.
Skinner.

Swallowing, sudden nervousness chasing away tired thoughts, Doggett 
held up 
a hand in return.  He watched Skinner climb out of his car.
This was nuts. He was acting crazy.
He ought to wash up, get into bed and go straight to sleep. That's what 
he 
ought to do.
He watched Skinner's large body jogging across the road.
Shit. What the hell.
Maybe it'd be kinda nice to have some company, for a change. His cock 
jumped 
in his pants,  remembering the kiss on the dance floor.
Skinner reached his front step.  He hesitated, questioning.
Doggett pushed the door open wide. He was intrigued to find he didn't 
have a 
problem with inviting this man into his house.

"You comin' in?"

Skinner grinned. "Sure?"

"You bet."
As he kicked  the door shut behind them, Doggett brought  his hand up 
to the 
wide chest in front of him, while Skinner put his mouth over his. He 
licked 
the warm lips, strangely satisfied to feel the mouth open up to accept 
his 
tongue.
What d'you know? Seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. Wonders 
would 
never cease.
You'd be proud of me, Rudy, he thought, as he kissed Skinner with 
enthusiasm.


                                                  *

Part 9/16





"What d'you want?" he asked, opening the fridge. He peered in. If he 
remembered, there was a six pack of Bud stuffed in at the back.

"Whatever you got."
The reply made Doggett jump. Skinner was standing right behind him.

"Must you creep up, like that?" he grouched, smiling. "I still haven't 
gotten over gettin' my ass grabbed all to hell and back."

Skinner laughed. "Occupational hazard of having a tight butt, Agent 
Doggett," he said, patting said butt.
"Yeah, well. It's a bruised butt, tonight, thank you."  He grabbed two 
beers 
and slammed the fridge. "Here."
He wandered through to the lounge.  "I need to sit down."

Skinner followed, swigging from the neck of his beer. "I thought your 
ass 
was painful."

"Yeah, well. My feet feel worse." He threw himself down on the couch. 
With a 
groan, he leaned forward and pulled at his laces.
"Here." Skinner kneeled down in front of him. "Let me."

Doggett frowned. "You don't have to do that."  Skinner put his beer 
down and 
pulled a foot into his lap.

"I know."

"Really..."
He reached for his foot, only to get his hand batted away.

"I know."

"You say that a lot."

Skinner looked up, a grin on his face. "Yeah. I kn..."

"Know?" Doggett finished for him, laughing.  "You're nuts. You know 
that?"
The boot slid off and Doggett groaned, his head falling back.  "Oh man. 
That 
is soooo good." The other boot followed, and Doggett lay in utter bliss 
as 
his socked feet were rubbed back to life.
"Shit, you can do that forever."

"You'd get bored."

"I could keep you in the closet and drag you out to rub my feet every 
day."
The hands on his feet paused, and Doggett looked up.

"The closet?"
The two men stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, God... I'm sorry, Skinner," Doggett gasped. "I didn't mean that 
like it 
sounded."

"I should hope not."
Doggett pulled his feet away from the hands and leaned forward. He 
rested 
his chin on his knuckles and quietly regarded the man sitting perfectly 
at 
ease on his lounge floor.

"I had no idea," he said, when he'd finished mapping every line on the 
other 
man's face.

Skinner tilted his head, blinking. "About what?"

Doggett shrugged.  "You know."

"You mean about you? Or me?"
Pulling in a deep breath, Doggett let it out in a sigh.
Talking about  stuff'  was always a bitch. That was half the reason he 
imagined men and women clashed. Guys just didn't do the  talking about 
stuff' thing. And here they were. Two guys. Talking. Or at least trying 
to.
He grunted.

"Take your pick. You?"  He looked the A.D. up and down, smiling.  "Most 
definitely. And me?" He gave a rueful shake of the head. "I'm still not 
sure."

A dry cough of laughter. "Oh, that's reassuring."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what I mean. I..." Doggett threw up a 
hand, 
helplessly. "Look. Up until tonight, I'd never even..."

"I can imagine."

"Can you?"

Skinner nodded. "Ex Marine, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"No  buts'. I know."


Doggett's eyebrow lifted in amusement.  "You're saying it again."
Skinner smiled back. "I know."
He looked different when he smiled. Younger. Relaxed. Almost...
Could you call another guy handsome, Doggett wondered? He put out a 
finger 
to touch the A.D.'s cheek. The finger traced down to a cleft chin, then 
he 
sighed  and dropped his hand.
Shit.   He could feel his beard.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me that sigh was nothing." Skinner put his hand on 
Doggett's 
knee. "I'm a trained F.B.I. Agent, you know."

Doggett grinned, despite himself. " I know," he replied.

Skinner smirked. "You're doing it, now."

Doggett snorted.  "Seems I'm doing a whole bunch of things, now."

"That sounds like regret."

"No."

"Disgust, then?"

Doggett looked up. "God, no."
That wasn't it. He wouldn't want Skinner to think that.

"Then what?"

"How about... Confusion?" Doggett offered. That was as good a 
description as 
any.

Skinner nodded. "I can deal with that."
Getting up off the floor,  he moved to sit at the far end of the sofa. 
Doggett smiled at that.

"I won't scream rape, you know. I'm not that confused." He patted the 
sofa. 
Skinner grinned and moved up.
"Promise?" he said

"Cross my heart." He leaned back.
Skinner studied his Bud label.  The clock ticked in the kitchen. Both 
men 
drank their beer.

"You think I'm gay?" Skinner said at last. Doggett gagged on a swig of 
Bud.

"What?" he choked out, wiping his chin on his arm.

"You heard."

"Yeah, I heard." He frowned. "What kinda question's that?" Jesus!

Skinner shrugged, looking into the dumb television. "Clear enough, 
isn't 
it?"
Doggett sucked the foam from his forearm. Fuck. What the hell was he 
supposed to say to that?  Yeah, Boss, I think you're a screaming 
faggot?
He wouldn't be saying that to the larger man in this lifetime.

"God, Skinner. Whadd'ya want me to say?"

"Well, are you gay?"

"Jesus Christ, man!" Doggett sat forward again, his beer forgotten.
Turning in his seat, Skinner rested his arm on the back of the sofa and 
smiled.

"The point I'm trying to make, Agent Doggett. Is that I don't care what 
you 
think I am."   He touched the back of Doggett's neck. "And I couldn't 
give a 
flying fuck about what you think you are, either.
"I've been married." He shrugged at the surprised face Doggett tried to 
cover. "I don't know if the way I am contributed to the end of it, but 
for 
most of the 17 years, it was a good marriage."
Doggett nodded. He could understand and empathise with that. His own 
marriage had been good, for all but the last bit.
"What I'm trying to say... Is that I think I'm old enough, and ugly 
enough 
to be secure in whatever sexuality I care to choose.  Therefore I shall 
do 
what I like, whenever I like, with whomever I like. And, strangely 
enough, I 
like you, John Doggett."

He didn't look drunk, Doggett thought. And he didn't think he was on 
drugs.
Ma  Doggett's oldest boy wouldn't be winning any beauty contests soon. 
If 
Skinner thought he was anything special, he must be crazy. Only a 
mother 
could love a face like this.

"You're crazy, you know," he said, shaking his head.

"More than likely."
The hand on Doggett's neck began to stroke sensuously through his short 
hair.

"You say that like you don't care."

Another shrug.  "I don't."

"You're tickling me." Doggett told him, squirming his shoulders.
"Tough."
Doggett stared. Skinner just stared back.
As he watched, Skinner's tongue came out and ran over his bottom lip, 
hypnotizing Doggett.
What had happened, that he couldn't take his eyes off this man? Did  
touching him qualify to drag his common sense out and stomp it to 
death?

"How  bout you should stop," he suggested helplessly, wondering where 
he was 
going with this.

The fingers carried on tickling his hair.  "You could try and make me."

A shiver of apprehension ran through Doggett's belly.
Ladies and Gentlemen! Here we have it: The Line.
The Line will define the rest of his evening, and quite possibly, his 
life.
Stay on this side of it, and they  will both drink their beer, until 
Skinner 
leaves to go home, no lasting harm done.
Cross The Line, and the evening goes someplace he'd never even dreamed 
of, 
and he would spend the rest of his life wondering if the whole thing 
could 
be excused by alcohol.
The Line lay just to Doggett's left, draped across the sofa between the 
two 
of them.. His eyes flicked down, half expecting to see a length of 
yellow 
and black warning tape lying next to him.
He looked up at Skinner. There was nothing on the other man's face to 
indicate what was going on inside his head.
He wasn't naive enough to miss the fact that Skinner was handing the 
decision over to him.  His choice. It was all up to him.

At his nape, the stroking in the bristly hair had  become unbearable. 
All 
his nerves seemed to have run to that one spot, to bask in the 
attention. He 
leaned his head back.
Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight has been brought to you by the letter O, 
for... Okay.
Wedging his beer down the side of the cushion, Doggett reached across 
with a 
hand cold and damp from the bottle, to cup the side of Skinner's face.

"Maybe I don't want to stop you," he said, closing the last few inches 
between them, to put his lips to Skinner's.
Doggett felt the word  Good', echo in his mouth as he leaned in. He 
didn't 
intend to give Skinner the opportunity to say anything else.
Line crossed, Ladies and Gentlemen, he told himself, working his tongue 
between Skinner's lips in a slow,  sensual slide that jolted him all 
the way 
to his toes.
Well and fucking truly crossed.

Doggett  kissed him for a long time. Getting to know the taste. 
Learning 
this other mouth.  In time,  his other hand came up to join the fun, 
exploring Skinner's side and back. And Skinner, in turn, used his free 
hand 
to slide up and down Doggett's thigh.
Finally licking his way out of the embrace,  Doggett took a in shaky 
breath. 
  Skinner did this kissing shit far too well. He was getting hot and 
bothered again.

"I need a shower," he said.

The A.D. smiled. "Join you?"

"I could live with that." Doggett stood and held out a hand.



                                                  *


Part 10//16



Throwing an extra towel over the warm rail, Doggett reached in and 
adjusted 
the faucet.  Yep. Hot enough.
He peeled the tee shirt over his head, grimacing at its smoky smell and 
general dampness.  Definitely dead. He threw it into the open hamper.
He looked down at his chest. The tape had left a red mark down his 
sternum. 
He poked it. Damn stuff. You'd think with all the advances in 
technology, 
the F.B.I. could come up with something that didn't take off half your 
Goddamned flesh.

"What's so fascinating?" Skinner came round the door.

"Fuckin' tape." Doggett turned to show him the mark. "Itches like 
hell."

Skinner pushed his hand away and looked.. "You big wuss," he said, 
running a 
finger over the redness. "There's hardly anything there."

Doggett frowned. "Hey! It hurts!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"It does!" Doggett didn't want to think he was whining, but he wasn't 
sure.

"Poor baby!" ducking his head down, Skinner placed a kiss on the 
offending 
spot.
Air whistled through Doggett's teeth.
Shit.
Skinner glanced up at him.
"That hurt?" he asked.

Doggett shook his head. It hadn't hurt. Quite the opposite. He tried to 
remember to breathe.
"I...er," Shit. He couldn't even breathe properly, let alone talk.

Skinner cocked his head on one side as he looked at him. "You having a 
change of heart?"
Doggett sighed and sat on the toilet seat. Rubbing his forehead with 
his 
hand, he shook it slowly.

"No. Not at all." He looked up to the dark eyes. No. It wasn't that he 
was 
changing his mind. His old mind was way back on the floor of a sweaty 
nightclub. This mind was brand new and fresh.  Positively virginal, in 
fact. 
That was the stumbling block.

"Then why have you gone..." Skinner waved a hand at him.

Doggett chuckled. "All girlie?"

He got a snort in reply. "I wouldn't have put it quite in those terms."  
The 
big man leaned back
on the wall and folded his arms. "But something like that, maybe."
Holding his hands out in front of him, Doggett checked to see how 
steady 
they were. Rock solid, he was pleased to note.

"It's just that I..." He stayed staring at the hands, not wanting to 
look at 
the other man for a moment. "I think you know, I never..."
God. This was so embarrassing.
Skinner moved to squat in front of him. He placed his hands on the 
splayed 
knees, forcing Doggett to look at him.

"Trained F.B.I., remember?" The knees were squeezed. "We'd be on the 
bathroom floor by now, if I thought you'd ever done this before."

Doggett grinned. "Think you're that good, huh?"

"Dunno. You'll have to let me know."
The teasing words sparked something deep inside Doggett. Not quite 
panic, 
but standing very close to it, disguised as excitement.

He put a nervous hand over Skinner's.  "You still wanna...?"

"I want to   if you want to."

"I... think so."

Skinner huffed. "Flatterer."

"Gimme a break, here. I've  never even danced with another guy, let 
alone..." He indicated Skinner's mouth. "It's all kinda new, y'know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."
A big hand came up to caress Doggett's face.  He leaned  into it and 
closed 
his eyes. I could get used to this attention, he thought. He turned and 
placed a kiss in the palm, because a hundred years ago, his wife had 
told 
him she liked it.

"So..." Skinner leaned forward and nuzzled Doggett's cheek.  "You've 
never 
kissed another man?"

"Well..."  Blood and dust on Rudy's lips. "Not exactly."
He opened his eyes to clear the rubble away. Didn't want to remember 
that,  
now.

Skinner grinned. "Not exactly? What does that mean?"
Doggett shook his head, not returning the smile. "Not right now." He 
ran a 
hand through his spiky hair.  "Don't wanna ruin the mood."

Skinner barked. "What? This mood?"

That got a chuckle. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry."  He ran his fingers down 
Skinner's 
face in apology. "Tell you another time, okay?"

A shrug. "Okay." As if dismissing the whole thing, Skinner gave him a 
quick 
kiss on the cheek.  "Let's hit that shower, Marine. Before all the hot 
water 
pisses away."

Skinner stood and stripped his tee shirt off in one smooth movement, 
dropping it to the floor.  He started on his belt with Doggett 
helplessly 
staring from the toilet seat.
Eyes stapled to the huge, hairy chest, Doggett wondered how the hell 
the man 
had managed to pull off any wire taps without screaming. He also 
offered up 
a small apology to Mulder, he could understand him having noticed this 
body, 
now. The acres of muscle and bone were kinda hard to avoid staring at. 
He 
suddenly felt very skinny indeed.

"That's a  yes', then?" Skinner asked, pausing on his zipper, lifting 
an 
eyebrow at the scrutiny.
A tiny blush coloured Doggett's face. He stood up, hoping Skinner 
wouldn't 
notice.

"Yeah. Let's get cleaned up."  He reached for his own pants.



                                               *


Part 11//16

Actually, considering he hadn't done this with anyone since his 
divorce, 
Doggett  thought he remembered how to share very well.  His stall was 
just 
big enough to accommodate the two of them, if they stood close 
together, 
that was. Doggett grinned into the spray. Not that that was any 
hardship. 
Having a hot wet body pressed up against his back was erotic, bordering 
on 
the exquisite. He leaned his head back on to Skinner's shoulders, as 
the 
other man soaped his chest and belly for him.
Silken hands glided from his underarms to his hips, stroking 
deliciously, 
but never once dipping lower. And to Doggett's satisfaction, his dick 
had 
woken back up and was straining to see what was going on.
The hot water massaged it pleasantly.

"Good?" The deep voice rumbled in his ear.
Doggett grunted, too blissed out to speak. The chest behind him rumbled 
in 
laughter.  A hand tweaked a nipple, gently.

"Thank you," Doggett muttered, the memory of the club rushing in

"What for?"

He snorted.  "Not hurting me."

The soapy hand stroked his chest. "I wouldn't do that."
Shit.
What did he mean by that, Doggett wondered?
Pushing himself away, he turned round and looked at the other man. 
Water ran 
in rivulets off the bald skull, dripping off the curiously flat nose. 
The 
dark eyes regarded him solemnly. The bigger man hadn't touched him in 
an 
overtly sexual manner, at any time. He'd washed Doggett's body and hair 
with 
studied matter of factness. No groping, grabbing or indeed  anything 
which 
might startle or bother him.  Not quite what Doggett had been 
expecting, but 
very comforting all the same.

Not that he thought that Skinner would slam him up against the shower 
wall, 
and butt fuck him  til  he screamed.
Well... Not really, anyway.
Well okay, one nasty image from a vice squad video tape had flickered 
briefly through his mind,but only for a fraction of a second. He'd 
never 
have invited Skinner into his house, if he'd taken that thought 
seriously.
But it was nice to get confirmation, all the same. This was a good man. 
His 
guts had hinted at it, and the way Skinner conducted himself had re 
enforced 
it.
Doggett  nodded. Okay.

His eyes travelled down the wet statue in front of him. The body hair 
flattened by the water looked darker, the skin glistening a gold sheen.
He looked good, Doggett had to admit that much. Straight or not, he had 
to 
admit the man was buff. In amazing shape for... Well shit. However old 
he 
was, he was in great shape.
Doggett put his hand out and laid it on the wet chest.
Another First.
Never touched a guy like this.  Not with anything like this intent, 
anyway. 
He rubbed the skin, marvelling at  the feel of the hard muscle under 
his 
hand. He could feel the nub of a nipple under his palm.

Skinner breathed deeply, not moving an inch. Letting Doggett roam free. 
His 
dark eyes slid shut. Relishing the chance to explore, Doggett reached 
for a 
handful of liquid soap and rubbed his hands together putting  them to 
Skinner's shoulders.
The soap made his hands slide easily over the golden skin. Nice. He was 
kinda surprised to realise how nice it did feel.
He soaped  the chest, watching the hairs perk up under the bubbles. 
Impulsively, he leaned forward and touched his own chest to Skinner's. 
He 
rubbed it back and forth.
This was  a most  unusual sensation.
Guy hair.  It was all crinkly on his smooth chest.
Another First.
He did it some more, grinning. It tickled.

"Having fun?" Skinner asked dryly, cracking open his eyes.

Doggett laughed. "Yeah. That okay?"

Skinner's arms came out to either side. "Be my guest," he said.
Taking the man at his word, Doggett helped himself to more soap and 
began to 
work a lather up on the rest of the body. Different from a soft woman's 
body. He didn't feel he had to be so gentle.  This body never shifted 
as he 
massaged his hands deep into muscle.
As his hands got to waist level, he glanced down. A sizeable boner was 
bobbing up  between them. Actually, it was more like one and a half 
boners, 
as his own dick was seriously putting in an appearance.
Water dripped in slow motion from the end of Doggett's nose and on to 
Skinner's cock.  The sight flared inside Doggett's belly, the urgency 
of the 
heat taking him by surprise.
Shit.
He stared, fascinated by water rolling off hard flesh.

"You could always take a picture," suggested Skinner.
Doggett laughed, slightly abashed at having been caught staring, there 
was a 
quick moment of having breached locker room etiquette, but he squashed 
it  
down. He was allowed to look at this man's body.
Shit, he was supposed to look.

"Yeah. I could always get one framed up for my desk."

"Have to be a real big frame," Skinner dead panned.

"Show off." Doggett chuckled. "Can you imagine the reaction at the 
Bureau?"

Skinner grinned. "Agent Scully would probably deliver early."

"Got rather a high opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

Shrugging, Skinner grinned. "Hey   what can I say? I'm a guy."
Yeah, thought Doggett. I kinda noticed that. His eyes dropped down 
between 
them again. Skinner's high opinion stared right back.
He watched his left hand come up of its own accord and he wondered why.  
The 
opinion bobbed as Skinner shifted his weight and Doggett flicked his 
eyes 
back up.
He wanted to ask a question, but the words were wedged in his throat, 
stuck 
behind his masculine pride.
Skinner nodded. He obviously understood the strangled expression.

"You're allowed to touch."
Glancing down, Doggett was surprised to see his hand already on the 
move.  
His body seemed to be 2 steps ahead of his brain tonight. Twitching, 
his 
cock agreed.
The soapy hand glided over hard flesh to the sound of his mind notching 
up 
yet another mark on the world's weirdest scoresheet.
First Time he'd touched another man's dick.
How  bout that? These damned Firsts were coming thick and fast. The 
unintentional pun made him smile.

"Something funny, down there?"
Doggett looked up, still gripping his handful.

"Just thinkin'" he said.
Grunting at the pressure Doggett was exerting, Skinner raised an 
eyebrow.

"Oh?"
"That this is nice." Doggett shrugged and squeezed some more.

"Seriously fuckin' weird. But nice, all the same."

"Glad you approve, Agent Doggett." His hands came up to hold on to 
Doggett's 
biceps. "But if we don't get out of this shower soon, you're gonna have 
to 
wait a while for any further approval."

"Okay, you're the Boss."
Unable to resist sliding his hand a couple of times more before letting 
go,  
Doggett laughed at Skinner's pained expression. He took pity on the man 
and 
let go, reaching  behind to  turn off the shower.
Skinner flung the curtain back, quickly stepped out, and reached for 
the 
towel rail. He grabbed the nearest one, wrapped it around his fist and  
glared at Doggett.

"Want to try that again, Agent?" he asked, snapping the towel back and 
forth, threateningly.

Doggett grinned, not in the least bit intimidated. "Sure."

Dropping the threat, Skinner nodded. "Good. Then  get out of there and 
do it 
properly, soldier." He threw the towel at Doggett and snagged himself 
another, draping it around his shoulders and walking purposefully out 
of the 
bathroom.
The thought of where he was headed made Doggett go hot and swallow 
quickly.
He rubbed his head briskly, thanking the barber for the time saving 
haircut, 
and hurried to follow Skinner.


                                                           *


Part 12//16



He found Skinner standing perfectly still in the middle of his bedroom, 
the 
light from the hallway seeking out and highlighting all his muscles. 
Doggett 
wondered if he was standing there  to get that very effect, or if he 
just 
hadn't liked to help himself to the lights. Whatever   it was real easy 
on 
the eyes.

"Nice room." The man said, dropping the towel on a chair.

"Yeah." Doggett walked in, admiring the view. His threw his own towel 
on top 
of Skinner's. "I'd give you the number of my interior decorator, but 
she 
don't speak to me any more."

Skinner lifted his chin in understanding.  "Ah."
Standing there, just looking at one another, Doggett was very aware of 
his 
nerves. Bad enough that it was depressingly seldom he had any other 
person 
in this room since his divorce, but that situation was compounded by 
the 
fact that this particular person, was usually behind a large desk 
whenever 
they spoke.  And absolutely not butt naked.

"I...um..." He raised his hands, tried putting them in non existent 
pockets, 
on his hips, and finally folded them over his chest.
Shit.   His dick hung down, bored with waiting. Oh great, he thought, 
rolling his eyes.

"Gone shy?" Skinner's voice was soft and teasing.

"Gone  something'," Doggett sighed.

Skinner held out a hand. "It's chilly. Come here."
Relieved to have the burden of decision taken from him, Doggett 
complied. He 
took those last few steps over to the man standing in front of his bed 
and 
large arms went around him,  skin still slightly damp from the shower. 
He 
was right. It wasn't as warm in here. Doggett shivered and the embrace 
tightened.

"Better?" Skinner asked.

"Hmmmmm." Doggett hooked his chin up on to the bare shoulder and 
nodded. 
Much better. They stood, savouring the moment, Skinner rubbing his hand 
up 
and down Doggett's back, until the other man relaxed enough to return 
the 
gesture.
"Nice," Doggett murmured.

"Yeah." More rubbing.
Basking in the physical contact, Doggett idly wondered if it would be 
out of 
place for him to ask for another kiss.  He was stunned at the way he 
was 
fast becoming addicted to the bigger man's technique. Never would have 
thought to look at him in the office, that beneath all that prim and 
proper 
exterior, Skinner  kissed like...
Shit. Like a pro'? Nah. Too cold.
Like a whore?  Uh uh. Too cheap.
Oh yeah. Doggett grinned as a tiny snatch of music ran through his 
head. 
Yeah.
Kissed like... A horny angel. Oh yeah...
He breathed in the scent of Skinner's warm skin. Fuck out of place. He 
lifted his head off the shoulder and looked Skinner straight in the 
eye.

"Yeah?" Skinner studied his face.

"Can I get a kiss?" Doggett asked softly, still a touch nervous, 
despite his 
internal bravado.

Skinner grinned. "Sure," he said, ducking that tiny bit to oblige.
Oh man. The deep breath served him well. Shit. Who taught him to kiss 
like 
this? Doggett wondered, desperately trying to keep up. Hairy, horny 
fuckin' 
angel...
And wouldn't you know? His dick perked up, anxious to join in the 
action.
The kiss gravitated down Doggett's face, and along his jaw line, 
disappearing down one side of his neck. He chuckled, lifting a 
shoulder.

"You really are a tickle bunny, aren't you?" Skinner grinned up from 
somewhere near a collar bone.

"What can y'do?" Doggett said, shrugging.  It was sometimes a problem.

Skinner looked at him. "What can I do?" he said, running his hand along 
Doggett's face, making him shiver for another reason. He lifted an 
eyebrow 
and leaned in to whisper softly in one of the  curled over ears. "Lots 
of 
things," he breathed.
Fuck.
Doggett's body burst out in a riot of goose bumps, draggin his erection 
up 
by the throat. Threat, or promise? He couldn't decide which and that 
thought 
excited him. How fucked up was that?
Skinner dragged his lips across Doggett's face and kissed him again, 
finally 
unlocking both Doggett's  knees and passion.

Grasping the back of Skinner's neck, Doggett bit down into the kiss 
with all 
the pent up lust from the entire evening, and probably the last couple 
of 
years.
Straining his neck muscles, he pushed his tongue deep into the other 
mouth, 
stroking and suckling into the wet embrace. Skinner's spit tasted of 
beer 
and ridiculously, an echo of  aftershave. The strangeness of it roared 
through Doggettt's body, straight to his cock. He scraped his chest 
across 
Skinner's, the hairs igniting his nipples, following that trail down to 
his 
groin in a delicious wave. He dick was throbbing time with his 
heartbeat, a 
crazy thrashing thing in his chest.
Skinner sucked his tongue, the rough surface rasping the underside of 
his 
own, in a manner that brought moisture bleeding to the tip of his cock.
Desperate little noises of excitement leaked out of his throat, 
swallowed 
down into Skinner's mouth.
Fuck! He scrabbled harder for purchase on Skinner's body, his cock now 
straining as hard as the rest of him, for release.

Skinner broke the kiss, gasping and laughing. "Easy!" he coughed out, 
holding Doggett by the arms. "Jesus, Doggett." He stared at Doggett's 
panting face. "You really woke the beast, there,
didn't you?" Doggett just looked at him, chest heaving, brain somewhere 
between his legs, fuck stupid.

"Easy," Skinner said again. "We've got all night." He ducked his head 
to 
plant a quick kiss on a wet, open mouth. "Slow down."
He pushed gently on Doggett's arms, knocking his knees against the edge 
of 
the bed, and depositing him on the quilt.
"Sit."

Eye level with Skinner's dick, Doggett stared, the haze clearing. 
Nothing 
like a one eyed trouser snake lookin' you in the face to bring you back 
to 
the Real World, he thought, blinking.  The bed dipped as Skinner sat 
beside 
him.

"Here..." A hand pulled him backwards to lie down. "Lie down. Get your 
breath back." Doggett allowed himself to be pushed, flopping back and 
levering his legs up. Shit. He'd nearly lost it, there.
He sneaked a glance at the man sitting next to him. Skinner was looking 
down 
at him with an amused expression on his face. One hand rested lightly 
on 
Doggett's shoulder.
"Better?" he asked.

"Was better before," Doggett told him truthfully.

"Yeah, but would've been over pretty quick at that rate."

Doggett gave a chuckle. "Yeah. Probably." Had been good, though.

Skinner shifted to bring his legs up to lie propped up beside him. 
"Besides. 
I'd rather take my time," he said, running his hand all the way from 
Doggett's shoulder to groin in a languid sweep.
Shit.
Doggett pushed his hips up to meet it, making Skinner laugh. "You are 
eager, 
aren't you?"

"It's been a while," he told him, wondering if painful honesty was a 
normal  
side effect of allowing another man to put his hands on him.
Skinner nodded, not saying anything.  He stroked again, avoiding 
Doggett's 
groin, this time. The tease made him grin. "Bastard," he said, softly.

"Get over it," Skinner replied, kissing the creased forehead.
Seizing the opportunity to extract revenge, Doggett grinned and ran a 
hand 
over the A.D.'s head.

"Always wanted to do that," he laughed.

"You and the entire western world," Skinner complained, rubbing a 
grumpy 
hand over his own head.  "What is it about   bald'? Everybody wants to 
touch."

Doggett chuckled. "Dunno. Maybe it's  cause it's so damned masculine."

Skinner looked dubious. "You think?"

"How many bald women d'you know?"

"I see your point."

He couldn't resist the pun.  "That's  cause I"m butt naked, sir." That 
brought the grin back to Skinner's face.

"Oh yeah." A warm hand ran down his body from collar bone to groin, 
again. 
"So you are, Agent Doggett."
Goose bumps prickled a trail behind  the hand as it brushed lightly.
Fuck, Doggett didn't know whether that tickled or turned him on.
Okay, so if his boner was any indication, it was a turn on. But 
still... 
That hand. He squirmed.

"Tickling," he said.

"Really?"
Doggett didn't like the look in the A.D.'s eye. Maybe it wasn't such a 
good 
idea to let on about that.

"Yeah. Gimme a break." He stopped the wandering hand as it fluttered 
over 
his belly. "It's fuckin' torture when you touch me like that."

"You want I should be firmer with you?"

Anything but the tickling. He let go of Skinner's hand. "Yeah."
With distressing ease, Doggett suddenly found himself grabbed by hip 
and 
shoulder and flipped on his stomach.
"What the..?"

“Be still," Skinner whispered, just as suddenly all over him, spreading 
himself across his back like a second, hairy skin. Hands pressed into 
his 
skin, hard enough to move the flesh.

"Shit..."  Doggett gasped. This was... He strained up, with absolutely 
no 
effect.
This was... Not good.
He'd never been held like this, naked under someone else. He felt...
He frowned. Disempowered, almost helpless. He heaved again.
Fuck that. Not almost, he was fuckin' helpless. A sick feeling surged 
up, 
bringing quick, sharp pictures from a thousand crime scene photographs 
with 
it. The hands were everywhere.
He wouldn't... no, surely he wouldn't? He felt a strong, hairy leg 
force its 
way between his, and Doggett began to struggle in earnest, panicking.



                              *

Part 13/16




The hands stopped.  "Hey!" Skinner shook his shoulder. "Hey... Relax."

Breathe! Doggett told himself, biting down on a yell. Above him, he was 
vaguely aware of a head dipping down to kiss the side of his neck. He 
turned 
his head towards it, breathing raggedly.
"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you." Another kiss.
Doggett concentrated on his breathing, controlling it, calming himself.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think." Skinner stroked a hand over the heaving 
shoulders, as if soothing a frightened horse. "I forgot..."

"Yeah?"  Embarrassed now, at his reaction, Doggett cleared his throat 
and 
licked his dry lips.

"Yeah." The head came down again and gently kissed the side of his 
mouth. 
"Forgive me?"
Way to go doofus, Doggett thought, cringing. Make the guy feel like an 
animal because you've never been in bed with anyone stronger than 
yourself. 
Nice goin'.

He cleared his throat.   "Sure. No problem." He turned a touch more to 
return the kiss. "It's just..."  He shrugged. "You know."

The dark eyes regarded him. "I know," he said

"Yeah." Maybe he did. You never knew, maybe the A.D. had been here, 
once. 
Shit, everyone had to have a  first time'.

"So we're okay?"  The tone of Skinner's voice killed the last of his 
panic. 
The guy was worried. The  idea of that pleased him in a way he couldn't 
have 
foreseen.

Doggett smiled. "Sure." The smile went wonky, pulling wickedly up to 
one 
side.  "If you're gonna offer a make up kiss."
The relief was touchingly evident in Skinner's expression, despite his 
light 
words.

"Why, I think I can just about force myself to oblige you, in that 
department."
Leaning over, he applied himself diligently to Doggett's mouth.
Almost worth the scare, Doggett thought, with a corner of his mind that 
wasn't making the most of the apology. He opened his mouth wider, 
trying not 
to broadcast his pleasure by groaning.
Fuck. This bastard knew how to do this right.
Draped over Doggett like an electric blanket, Skinner pulled his mouth 
away, 
sighed and chuckled.

"You do that very well," he said, running his hand over a smooth 
shoulder.

"I was just thinkin' the very same thing, Mr. Skinner."
They lay quietly for a moment, content to stroke and be stroked.
Doggett wondered if Skinner was allowing him to pull himself back 
together 
again. That was a pretty astute move, if he was. He needed a moment. No 
great surprise,  his boner had gone AWOL when he'd started to flip out.

Skinner kissed his shoulder. "Cute freckles," he muttered. Doggett 
turned 
his head and glared.

"I am not  cute'," he growled.

Skinner chuckled. "I'd beg to differ with you on that, Agent Doggett."
Still glaring, Doggett shook his head.

"Not cute. No way."  Not in a million fuckin' years. What was this guy 
on?
"Since we're having our first disagreement, d'you think you could quit 
callin' me  Agent Doggett'?  Makes me nervous, you know?"

Skinner propped himself up on one arm, his face amused. "And me lying 
naked 
on top of you, doesn't?"

"No.  Strange as that may be. But being called  Agent' while you doin' 
it, 
is more than a little freaky." Doggett wriggled an arm free and knocked 
a 
knuckle lightly on the A.D.'s forehead "So quit it, okay?"

His hand was grabbed. "Okay. But no more of that  Boss' stuff, from 
you, 
either." He shook the  hand in his.  "Deal?"
"Pullin' rank, Sir?" Doggett grinned wickedly.

"Works every time, Agent Doggett."

"Yeah? Well you can just kiss my ass!" he laughed, then abruptly 
snapped his 
mouth shut when he realised what he'd just said. The lack of lighting 
hid 
the furious blush that roared across his face.

"Why, Agent Doggett," Skinner laughed. "On a first date?"
Shit! What a dumbass thing to go and say! Doggett could feel the heat 
form 
his face radiating onto his arm.

"Screw you, Skinner," he muttered, mortified.

Skinner roared with laughter. "Oh, this just gets better and better, 
doesn't 
it?"
Doggett groaned, giving up all pretence of control and buried his 
burning 
face in the bed covers. Tonight's faux pas brought to you by the letter 
M, 
for Moron.
His body shook with Skinner's loud amusement. Oh, this was just peachy.
The laughter eventually died away to occasional chuckles. Then it went 
quiet.
His head still firmly pressed into the bed, Doggett waited to see what 
would 
happen next. If he was lucky, Skinner'd fall asleep and he'd slink off 
to 
spend the night on the couch.
A hand brushed across his shoulder.

"You still in there?"
Doggett ignored him.
"Hey?" He could feel a hand on the back of his head. He wasn't sulking. 
Not 
really.
"Hello..."  Skinner's mouth was very close. The words ruffled the 
stubby 
hair. "John?"
First time he's called me by my given name, Doggett thought.  No wait. 
He 
did it at the club. Just before he took me dancing.
"John." Not a question, this time. More a thinly veiled order.

"What?' he muttered into the sheets, replying out of habit.

"Cut yourself a break."  Soft kisses touched his skin. Across his 
shoulders 
and moving down his spine. Doggett shivered.  Skinner shifted, and the 
kisses reached the small of his back, and then with a sudden rush of 
surprise, one landed on his butt cheek.
Shit.
Doggett's head came up. He craned his neck to look behind.
"Thought that'd get your attention." Skinner grinned.

"Bastard," Doggett told him, a faint smile on his face.

"Oh yeah." He dipped down and kissed the other cheek, making Doggett 
clench 
and laugh.

"Quit it!"

There was a gleam in Skinner's eye. "You sure?"
Oh boy. These deciding moments just kept comin' and comin'.  Doggett 
swallowed. He wondered if the lump he'd just forced down was what was 
left 
of his masculine pride.
"No," he said, very quietly. "I'm not."



Part 14/16



Skinner's warm hand wandered down to his hip.
"I'm glad," he said, and began to pull Doggett over on to his side. 
Silently, he began to kiss down Doggett's ribcage, to where his hand 
cupped 
his pelvis, and staring, Doggett wondered with half his mind, whether 
he had 
gone totally fucking insane.
"Lie flat," Skinner whispered, pushing him into the mattress.  He 
smiled up 
at Doggett,  stroking thumbs over his hips. "And try to relax."

Giving a grunt of derision, Doggett sighed and reached above his head 
to 
snag a pillow. Shit, if he had gone insane, then he might as well be 
comfortable in his certification. He stuffed the pillow under his head 
and 
flopped his arms back to his side.

"Relaxed," he told Skinner, lying through his teeth.

The other man chuckled and shook his head, obviously not fooled for a 
second. And then he took the last of Doggett's sanity by bending his 
head 
and licking up the side of his groin.

"Fuck!"
Skinner looked up.

"In good time," he laughed, making Doggett grimace.

Doggett muttered, squirming.  "Jesus, Skinner."
There was a moment of anticipation when he had a chance to brace 
himself, 
before Skinner ducked down and did it again.  This time, he just bit 
his lip 
and watched.
At some point during the proceedings, Doggett understood how Skinner 
had 
risen to the ranks of A.D.  He was thorough, methodical and utterly 
focussed.
In the space of around fifteen minutes, he licked, kissed and nibbled 
just 
about every inch of Doggett's legs, belly and chest,  gathering up what 
was 
left of Doggett's  tattered self control and chucking it into a corner 
of 
the room. All the while, studiously ignoring his erection, which was 
straining at the leash with neglect.
The moisture on his skin from Skinner's mouth was bobbing it up in 
patches 
of goose bumps, which in turn, were soothed back down by long strokes 
of a 
hand. The combination of gentle touches from Skinner's lips, and the 
burn of 
beard on his skin was distracting, distressing and utterly delightful.
"Shit," Doggett hissed, his hips lifting involuntarily as Skinner 
skimmed by 
his dick  again.
His balls were going to explode with frustration any second now.
"Bastard," he told the man settled between his legs.
Skinner merely looked up at him.
"Smile, when you call me that," he grinned.
Doggett grunted at him, with a creased up face. He was doing that thumb 
thing on the delicate skin next to his hips, and  it was teetering on 
the 
border of agony and ecstasy.  Any second now, he was going to have to 
scream 
and push Skinner off.  He took his lip between his teeth and began to 
count 
down from one hundred in his head. He had been a Marine, for Chrissake.  
He 
could fight this insane urge to howl.
And then Skinner grabbed his dick hard, and in one silken, sensuous 
sweep, 
dragged his tongue up, and swallowed it down.
The yell ripped out of Doggett's throat, yanking his head off the 
pillow, 
and straightening his legs  as if shot.

"Fuck!!"
Gripping the base tight in fingers of steel, Skinner stopped Doggett 
from 
coming there and then  by a hairs breath.
"Oh shit, shit shit..." Doggett panted. The act of looking down at what 
was 
going on between his legs was very nearly undoing him. "Oh God..."
Slowly, he watched himself fall out of a grinning mouth. The sight made 
his 
belly clench with lust, and his nerves screamed both approval and 
frustration. There was a freakin' riot going on in his groin.

"Good?" Skinner asked him, rather smugly.
Nodding was all he was gonna get right now, Doggett thought, his breath 
charging in and out of an extremely tight chest. He idly wondered what 
Skinner would have done, if the shock had brought on a  coronary.
"Oh good." Skinner  said, satisfied, and gave Doggett another suck, 
bringing 
slender hips off the bed in a spasmodic jerk.

"Jesus!"
Up and down, pause at the tip, then sliding down...It had been a long 
time 
since anyone had done this to  him, but his body remembered. Recalled 
and 
relished.
And it didn't care in the least that for the first time, it wasn't a 
Sue, a 
Carolyn or even an Anna lying with their head between his legs.  His 
hips 
jerked in approval, once, twice...

"I'm gonna..." he gasped, feeling the familiar build up to the moment 
that 
common courtesy dictated, he should issue warning to  his bed partner.

"No you're not," Skinner assured him, squeezing down hard again.

The sensation faded.     "Shit."
Propping himself up on one elbow, Skinner watched frustration and 
relief 
jostling for position on  the angular face.
"What're you tryin' to do to me?" Doggett croaked out, eventually.

The other man chuckled. "Drive you crazy," he said.

Doggett nudged him with a knee. "Mission accomplished, you bastard."
Skinner blew cool air over his dick, making it twitch.

"Fuck, Skinner," Doggett groaned.

"Maybe... one day." he said, enigmatically, stroking the inside of a 
trembling thigh.  "But not tonight."
"What?!" Doggett snatched  his body up on his elbows, not believing 
what 
he'd just heard. Skinner just carried right on petting, oblivious to 
the 
look on Doogett's face.

"You can't..." The phrase,  leave me like this' perched itself on the 
tip of 
Doggett's tongue. He swallowed. "You just can't stop," he said, hoping 
it 
hadn't come out as a whine. "I've got a gun, Skinner. I promise you 
I'll 
fuckin' use it."
Skinner grinned at him.

"Oh, I don't intend to stop," he said, kissing the end of Doggett's 
dick, 
momentarily distracting the other man.

"Then..." Doggett  swallowed around a dry throat. "Then what?"
Skinner's hand went underneath his knee and pushed it up, bending it.

"You'll see."
Never mind two steps behind his body, his mind was practically in the 
next 
fuckin' state. What the hell was going on now? He didn't like not 
knowing. 
Actually, knowing was sometimes a bit tricky, too, but he thought, on 
balance, not knowing was worse.
In his mind, he'd studiously stuffed  the mental pictures of what vice 
squad 
tapes told him men did to each other in bed, behind a wall. But they 
had 
popped out every now and again during the evening, just to wave and 
remind 
him of some basic facts.
To remind and worry him a little.

"Skinner..." he began.

"You think we could move on to first name terms, now..." Skinner looked 
pointedly at Doggett's crotch. "Considering?"

Sighing, Doggett rolled his eyes.
"Okay... Walter. Mind tellin' me what's the plan?"  He nodded down at 
his 
wet dick. "Bein' as I'm kinda involved?"
Skinner scraped his nails gently down the back of Doggett's thigh, 
making 
him hiss.

"Houston, we have a problem." he said, with a little grin.
Doggett shook his head. He was lying in bed with a lunatic.
"Thing is, John," Skinner said, never pausing in is journey along 
Doggett's 
leg. "I'm very aware that  we're in a brave new world for you."
Doggett felt a blush threaten.
"And much as I'd like to fuck this cute virgin ass into the 
mattress..."
The blush stop threatening and raged over his face and into his ears.
"I'm sure you'd appreciate a more  gradual' approach." He stopped 
stroking 
and looked up at Doggett's face. If he noticed the colour of his ears, 
he 
didn't mention it, for which Doggett was absurdly grateful.
"Am I right?"
Doggett swallowed. Shit. Not a lunatic, just a mind reader. He nodded, 
slowly.

"Besides, I'm willing to bet you haven't got a spare bottle of 
Astroglide in 
that bedside drawer of yours. And I'm far too old and boring to want to 
go 
downstairs and get olive oil out of your kitchen." He smiled. "It's 
such a 
bitch to get out of the bed linen."
Doggett gaped at him, words completely out of the question.
"Okay, then." Conversation over, Skinner bent and began to apply 
himself 
again, much to the delight of Doggett's dick.

Quite frankly, Doggett was amazed at the range of noises that came out 
of 
his throat while Skinner worked. He hoped it didn't make him sound like 
an 
idiot. But he couldn't seem to stop himself.  Not only was that 
incredible 
mouth milking him from his toes upwards, but he was taking the time to 
caress the inside of his thighs and balls, the gentle touch making his 
nuts 
ache.
Fuck.
Ironic that none of his women lovers had ever been quite this good at 
b.j.'s. Must be some truth in the old joke that it takes a man to know 
what 
another man wants. A tiny thought wondered if the rule was the same for 
women.
Skinner had paused,  long enough for  Doggett to eventually look up. He  
craned his neck to see.

"What you doin'?" Curiosity overcoming impatience.

Skinner looked up and grinned. "Wait and see," he laughed and then his 
hand 
disappeared.
Strange, Doggett thought, and then his mind blanked as he lay back 
down,  
that talented mouth sucking away all thought.
A hand went under his left butt cheek,  lifting him up a little.  
Doggett 
groaned as the angle caused him to slip further down the A.D.'s throat.
And then he gave more of a shout as a wet finger disappeared between 
his 
cheeks.

"Yow!"
Relentlessly, the intrusion pushed further, surprise making Doggett's 
eyes 
bulge open.
"Shit..."
And then, all of a sudden, it was inside him, and the shock of the 
unfamiliar feeling shutting his mouth with a snap. For a second, the 
blow 
job was driven out of his mind.
Fuck.
He took a deep breath, sorting out the sensation, not at all sure he 
liked 
it. He frowned, feeling himself clamping down. Not even his wife had 
done 
this, in all the years they'd been married.
Would Skinner be offended if he said he didn't like it?
And then the thought disintegrated as Skinner pushed in and did 
something 
else making the whole of Doggett's groin explode.

"FUCK!"
Later, he would hope he hadn't screamed that out, but if he was honest,  
he 
probably had.
Loudly.





Part 15/16

When the world trickled back into focus, when his hearing slipped back, 
and 
his eyes cracked open, Doggett finally remembered to breathe again. He 
gazed, glassy eyed at the ceiling, panting.
Oh.
My.
God.
Somewhere, down by his recently departed dick, Skinner was chuckling, 
softly.

"Tha..." he croaked.
No. It was too much to expect his voice to work properly.

"Good?" Skinner offered, helpfully.
He nodded. That was beyond good. More like nearer to amazing... 
outstanding... or even fuckin' incredible, actually.
"I aim to please."
Doggett encouraged his head to move so he could look at the other man. 
He 
was sure his neck muscles creaked.
Skinner was gazing up at him, chin on a fist, a smug expression 
plastered 
all over his face. Doggett wondered what expression was all over his.

"Your aim was... Pretty amazin'," he ground out, knowing it'd be 
pointless 
to say anything else, after that vocal reaction.
Skinner waggled his eyebrows, still grinning. He looked like a Cheshire 
cat, 
thought Doggett. One  that had got the cream. He blinked, amused at his 
own 
analogy.

"Can I?" He lifted a boneless hand.

"Can you what?"

"Reci... repric..." He sighed. Reciprocate  was way too hard for his 
post 
coital tongue.
"You know."

Skinner smiled and shrugged.  "You want to?"
Pausing for a second to check with his libido and masculinity, Doggett 
was 
pleasantly surprised to find them both nodding.

"Yeah," he said, propping himself up on one elbow. "I do."
Crawling up the quilt to lie beside him, Skinner made himself comfy on 
the 
pillows and waved his hands.

"Help yourself." He lay totally relaxed, a faint smile still on his 
lips. 
"Whatever you feel comfortable with."
Well, thought Doggett, pulling himself up to a sitting position. 
There's an 
offer you don't get every day. He could imagine that he would be the 
envy of 
the entire Bureau typing pool, if he was of a mind to tell them. Then 
again... Maybe not.
He let his eyes roam over the expanse of golden flesh displayed on the 
bed 
and scratched his chest. What to do, and where to start?
Well, at the top was as good a place as any.

He rested a palm on the centre of Skinner's chest and leaned up and put 
his 
mouth to his lips.
Good plan, he thought, as the other man held his head and went at it, 
with 
gusto. It'd been a while since they'd kissed, felt good to re acquaint 
himself.
Taking the initiative, Doggett moved his mouth and began to work his 
way 
across Skinner's face, wondering at the feel of the beard under his 
lips, 
trying to decide how he felt about it.
Actually, it wasn't as strange as he'd have thought. Kissing another 
man.
Affection was affection. And he liked Skinner.
Liked the way he did big cat impersonations in the back of his throat, 
as 
the kisses disappeared down the front of his chest.
Doggett moved to sit astride Skinner's legs, wanting better access.  
The 
idea of sitting nude on ntop of another man was negligible. Seems you 
could 
adjust to anything, he thought.
He ran his hands over Skinners wide shoulders, and down the arms lying 
on 
the quilt. The hairs on them tickled his palms. That was something you 
didn't find on a woman.
Shit, he thought with a grin. Hair like this, was something you didn't 
find 
on him.

"Amusing yourself?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then."
Silence fell between them, while Doggett explored. He ruffled chest 
hair 
every which way, learning how it moved, deeply intrigued, because he 
had 
none. He bent to taste, to see if the skin tasted any different, and 
then 
rolled Skinner's nipples like radio knobs, making the other man laugh.
Scraping his nails down a trim waist, he grinned at the jump of the 
muscles.

"Ticklish?" he teased.

"Uh uh." Skinner shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you."
Silence again, while Doggett let his fingers wander through the line of 
hair 
that pointed the way from Skinner's belly button to his groin. He 
combed the 
short hairs, re arranging the way they lay on Skinner's belly, then he 
bent 
to kiss his handiwork,  dipping his tongue into the little hole.
Pulling a face, he sat up quickly, fishing between his teeth.

"Yeuch."

"What?" said Skinner.

"You're shedding."
Skinner burst out laughing.

Doggett made spitting noises. "It's like making love to Gentle Ben."
Wiping the stray hair away, Doggett stared down at the man under him.
God. Making love.
Did he just say that?
Well, whadd'ya wanna call it? He asked himself?  Fuckin'?  Is that what 
they 
were doin'?
No   he answered himself. It wasn't that.  Fucking' wasn't the right 
word, 
at all. It didn't even begin to cover this.
Skinner stared back. Still smiling that big old sappy smile. Doggett 
found 
himself grinning back. Yeah. Okay. Making love. That'd do it.

"Quit your bitching," Skinner told him.

"Who you callin' a bitch?" he demanded, tweaking a nipple, and bending 
forward to bite Skinner's side. He sucked hard, leaving a mark.
"Explain that in the Bureau showers," he grinned, looking down at the 
bruise.

"You dipshit!" Skinner said, rubbing the spot and flicking Doggett's 
knee 
with the other.
Looking down at Skinner fussing, his eyes found themselves drawn down 
to his 
groin. Doggett pondered the dick sitting between them, pointing 
relentlessly 
up at the ceiling.
He reached out and ran his fingers up it. Skinner shivered.
Okay, so he likes that, Doggett thought. Let's start from there. He 
grasped 
it again, and began to rub up and down, gently.

"Good," Skinner told him.
Doggett nodded. Yeah. I bet. He played for a while, learning the noises 
Skinner made on the different strokes. Deep noises, little grunts. It 
was 
like playing the world's strangest instrument.
String instrument, or one you could blow? The thought made him grin. 
One way 
to find out.
Doggett leaned closer, plucking up the courage to return the favour.
And found himself hesitating.

Above him, a deep voice rumbled. "It's not as bad as you might think."
"I know." Doggett looked up. "My wife always used to say the thought of 
it, 
was worse than actually doin' it."

Skinner roared with laughter."Mine too." He shook his head. "You think 
there's a seminar they all go to?"

Doggett pulled a face. "I think it's obligatory, after ten years of 
marriage."

Skinner shook his head.  "I hear you."

"Wonder if they'd do it more if they knew how good it felt?"

Skinner snorted loudly.  "Less, probably."

"Yeah." And with that thought laughing in his head, Doggett moved that 
last 
inch or so and  took Skinner in his mouth.
Not as bad as he'd imagined.
Not that he'd ever really given this serious thought.
Well, not very often, anyway. Just on the odd millionth occasion Rudy 
had 
offered to do him.
It was a bit salty, a bit sweet, but mostly just warm skin. Fair 
enough.
Working his head up and down to the sounds of satisfied Skinner grunts, 
Doggett closed his eyes and gave the job at hand his full, undivided 
attention.
He used his free hand to fondle a set of balls that were rapidly 
disappearing up tight against a groin.  Wasn't going to take long, at 
this 
rate.  He experimented, seeing how far down he could take it.

Coughing and choking, Skinner's erection fell out of his mouth. Oops.
He glanced up. "Sorry."

Skinner just grunted. His eyes stayed shut, but a big hand came up to 
bury 
its fingers in what hair the barber had seen fit to leave.  " Kay," he 
muttered, patting.
Try again.
Have to be careful not to bite off more than he could chew, he told 
himself. 
  Doggett bet whoever thought that one up, didn't have this in mind. He 
worked his way up and down, paying attention to the sensations he knew 
he 
liked, alternating deeper strokes with tip work.

"Oh god..." Skinner groaned, his fingers still tangled in Doggett's 
hair, 
his hips twitching.  He was trying to hold back with the thrusting, 
Doggett 
guessed. Didn't want to choke him to death.
He sucked harder.
"Ow... Shit!"
All of a sudden, he felt Skinner's body clench, his balls tighten, and 
he 
braced himself for the inevitable.




Part 16/16


Well, he might be willing, but his technique stank, he thought, as a 
good 
deal of Skinner's come flowed back out of his mouth and on to his 
groin.
Shit. He coughed, gagging on the speed and sheer volume of what was 
pumping 
out.
Not what you'd call very graceful, at all. He wiped his mouth on the 
back of 
his hand.
Damn! There must be a special way to do that, without getting into such 
a 
fuckin' mess.
He glanced up at the other man.
A goner. Totally fuck blind.  Eyes shut, jaw slack.
Oh well, he might not be the world's best cocksucker, but at least he 
got 
the job done. He grinned.
Rubbing the spilled come into Skinner's belly, he flopped down next to 
Skinner, and  waited for him to recover.
More Firsts. That scoresheet must be gettin' pretty full up, tonight.

"How y'doin'?"  he asked, eventually.

Skinner opened one eye. "Out fucking standing, my man," he grinned. 
"I'm 
impressed."

Doggett inclined his head. "My pleasure."

That got him a look from both of those dark eyes. "Are you sure?" he 
asked.
Running his tongue around the strange taste in his mouth, and thinking 
seriously about the question, Doggett scratched his nose.
Was he?  Sure, it was an unusual way to spend his Friday night, but on 
the 
whole, he'd had a real good time. Good enough to maybe want to do it 
again, 
sometime?
Sure.
Tomorrow, maybe?
Skinner waited for his reply. Looking at him, blinking.

"Yeah," he said, at last. "I am."

"Yeah?"
Doggett grinned. He'd thought he was supposed to be the insecure one. 
He 
leaned over to kiss Skinner, softly.

"Yeah. Relax, okay?"
Skinner kissed him back and snaked an arm around his shoulders, pulling 
Doggett into a hug.

"I'm glad," he said.
Resting  his head on the tanned shoulder, Doggett hooked a lean leg 
over 
Skinner's hairy one.
This was comfortable. Lying in someone else's arms.
Especially someone like this. An equal? Maybe. A friend. Hopefully.
Doggett put his hand over his yawning mouth.

"Am I boring you?" Skinner joked.

Doggett laughed. "Nah. Just beat." He yawned again, just to prove a 
point, 
then plopped his hand on Skinner's chest. "You wore me out."
The chest rumbled with quiet laughter. Then Skinner yawned, too.

"Must be catching."

"Yeah." he hoped Skinner would sleep over tonight. It'd be nice just to 
go 
to sleep together,
not have to do the whole,  shall I call tomorrow' thing before slinking 
away 
into the night. Doggett closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't think 
Skinner 
would just presume. He'd have to ask.
"You'll stay. Tonight, I mean?" he said.

"That okay? I'd like that."

"Sure."
Easy as that?
Man, this was easier than with a woman.
Doggett smiled against Skinner's shoulder. How about that?
Damn shame he'd never get to tell Rudy that he had been right, all 
along. 
Man, would he get his ass well and truly kicked by Lt. Wallis for 
fuckin' 
about,  wasting all those years.
Something was tickling at the side of his face. He reached up a hand to 
scratch and was surprised to find his fingers coming away wet. Doggett 
stared at them, dumbly.
What the hell?

Beside him, Skinner lifted his head to see what was holding his 
attention. 
He touched the moisture on Doggett's fingers.

"What's all this about?" he asked, pulling himself up on an elbow. He 
took 
the hand in his own to wipe it dry. "Regrets?"
Doggett nodded. Oh yeah, regrets, alright.
He turned to look at the man lying next to him,. But he needed to 
explain. 
Needed to take away the pain  that had been in Skinner's  voice when he 
asked that last question.

"Not about this," he replied, moving his fingers to entwine them with 
Skinner's.
"Not about you."  Bringing their clasped fists to his mouth, he kissed 
the 
back of Skinner's hand.
"Trust me."

Skinner nodded, carefully.  "Then... What?"
What indeed.  Doggett thought for a moment.  More correctly, more 
honestly, 
it was a case of  who'.
He realised it was important to explain to Skinner, but his throat was 
thickened by blood and dust from a Beirut car bomb.

"I had a friend..." he began. His eyes were stinging like a bitch from 
all 
that friggin' dust.
Skinner nodded again.
"Way back in Service." Doggett cleared his throat. His voice sounded 
all 
funny.
"A good friend."
He grinned. "The best. Could drink like a ten dollar whore, and fight 
almost 
as well." A bark of laughter chased away the catch in his voice.
"He'd take a bet on anythin' man. Fuckin' anythin'. How quick a dog 
turd 
dried in the sun... How many times the Drill Sergeant said  fuck'... 
Which 
new grunt'd puke first in the bar...
Anythin'."
Skinner chuckled.

"He could strip a Harley engine, an A K 47, or a Beirut whore..." 
Doggett 
held up his hand and snapped his finger. "Slicker  n snot, man." He 
laughed 
softly. "Great guy."
Doggett lay there in the dark room, running Rudy's video tape in his 
mind.  
The one he very occasionally, allowed to make him cry.

"He dead?" Skinner put his hand gently on to Doggett's  belly.

Nodding, Doggett dragged his arm over his face. He sighed. "A while 
now," he 
said.

"Tough break."

"Yeah."
Ain't that the truth, Doggett told himself.

"Your lover?"
Doggett started, surprised. "No. I told you. I never..."
Rudy, his arm draped over his shoulder as they argued whether John 
would 
ever drop his pants for a b.j., lurched into focus. Closely followed by 
that 
old favourite, the first   last, bloody kiss.
Shit. That damned dust again.
This time, Skinner wiped his face for him.

"Okay," he said nodding.  "But you did love him." It wasn't a question.
Whadd'ya know? The letter T, for Truth.
Doggett looked at Skinner's finger, then into his own heart.

"Yeah..." He thought about how the admission altered his view of 
himself.  
Strangely, it didn't change a thing.  He nodded. "I did."

"That's good," Skinner leaned over and kissed the end of his nose.

"He wanted to..." He shrugged, looking Skinner's body up and down. "You 
know..."

"Uh huh."

"But I never let him... Always said  no'."  The stain of Rudy's blood 
had 
stayed on his lips long after the MedEvac team had taken the broken 
body 
away. The bitter taste of his blood had stayed in Doggett's mouth for 
much  
longer.
His gruff, ex smoker's voice had gone quiet. "I didn't have the balls."
Skinner stroked his head and down over the creased face.

"It's okay."

Doggett frowned. "Maybe I might have..." He gave a derisive snort. He 
knew 
damn well he  wasn't anywhere near as Rudy.  Hadn't got the balls to be 
a 
gay Marine.
Crazy old Rudy, still offering sex, even as the dry Beirut ground drank 
his 
life from his shattered legs.

"He knew," Skinner said.

Doggett looked up, hopefully. "You think?" That might help. Ease the 
guilt.

"Sure. He was still your friend, even when you said  no', wasn't he?"
Doggett  nodded. Yeah. For five years after first asking. And then 
every day 
for the entire five fuckin' years afterwards.

Skinner shrugged. "There y'go, then.

Doggett smiled.  "Actually, I did kiss him. Once."

Skinner chuckled.  "That's what you meant by  not exactly', then?"

"Yeah."
Not exactly.
Not exactly what Rudy'd had in mind.
Not exactly what Doggett'd had in mind, either.

"Like it?" Skinner asked, innocently.

"I didn't get the chance to find out." Doggett gave a crooked smile. 
"He 
died about two minutes after I did it."

"Oh shit. I'm sorry."

Doggett shrugged. "S'okay. Prob'ly wouldn't have done it at all, 
unless..."
Yeah, then they'd probably have spent the rest of their lives, drinkin' 
beer, play fightin' and raggin' on each other to hell. Rudy callin' him 
a 
dumb queer bashing Redneck, and him calling Rudy a screaming faggot 
queen. 
And they'd have lived happily ever after. Or unhappily after. Who knew?

"Glad you did it?"

"Yeah." And for the first time, he really believed himself. He yawned 
hugely, again.
"Close your eyes, John Doggett," Skinner told him, kissing the top of 
his 
head. "God knows, you could do with the beauty sleep."

"Screw you, Walter Skinner," Doggett grinned, doing as he was told.

"One day, John Doggett," Skinner laughed. "One day."