Date: December 19^th - May 28^th, 2001 (Hell YES, it took long enough!!!!)

Author: Jvantheterrible

Category: Sk/M

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Characters belong to CC, even if he doesn’t know what they REALLY want.

Author’s Notes: This is the final part of this series, and undoubtedly took me the longest to write! I'm also working on a couple of new stories based on Season 8 events, and I PROMISE it won't take me another three months. RL has been playing cruel and evil tricks on me, and I'm pretty sure my muse died…or went into hibernation, or SOMETHING. So I got a NEW muse (2 actually, if you count my little Sentinel moonlighting project), and yes, Tesa, there be angst ahead, but not toooo much. Thank you all for stopping by, glad you liked the series, and there WILL be more stories. Honest. Just not in THIS Universe! AND…as ALWAYS…amokeh, thank you for your valuable input and letting me put this series to rest appropriately.

******************************************

Fox is in the shower, and I’m in bed. It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night, and I am just thinking about all of the events of this past year. Remarkably, it’s been nearly six months since anything out of the ordinary has happened to Fox and me. There haven’t been any attacks on us while we’re out, no near-death experiences for either of us, and we’re getting along great. Life has been sort of boring, if I do say so myself — and I love it. Even Mulder has been happy as of late; that is somewhat of an anomaly in itself, but neither of us are complaining.

I can’t believe it’s almost May, but it is. This year has flown by and it has proven to be a blessing and a curse all in one. On one hand, there’s the distance that has been put between us and all of the bullshit that was going on for so long, and that’s the great part. The bummer of it is that it’s coming up on a year since Scully died in the line of duty. I’m not sure how Mulder is going to handle the anniversary, but I do know that I will be there for him 200% and then some. I’m trying not to think about it all that much, but it is something that is lurking in the back of my mind, just waiting to rear its ugly head and cause all kinds of problems for us all over again. The worst part of it all is that it will also be OUR anniversary, and it’s such a bitch to have that correlate to Scully’s death. I really should give Fox more credit than that. It’s just that we are closer now than we’ve ever been; our communication lines have been completely open to each other at home and at work, we talk, we go out, we make love just like an old comfortable married couple. Okay, so the making love part is out of this world - but everything else is on a pretty damned even keel. I don’t know if I can take another half-year long crisis. I don’t know if our relationship can survive it, not to mention myself. As Danny Glover is so fond of saying in those Lethal Weapon films, "I’m too old for this shit." Ditto.

*********************************

I flick the power switch on the television remote, and ‘by crikey’ the Crocodile Hunter is on Animal Planet. Goddamn Fox for talking me into putting a television in the bedroom of all places, even if it IS nice falling asleep with him in my arms in front of whatever catches our fancies on any given night. I hear that the shower has shut off, and I call excitedly to my lover, "Fox, hurry up…it’s Steve Erwin and the episode with the spitting cobras!"

The bathroom door swings open to reveal a very sexy and very naked Fox Mulder, hair still dripping wet from the shower. He shakes his head at me and suddenly an evil grin washes over his face as he replies, "Hey babe, I’VE got a spitting cobra for you that’ll beat ANYthing that old Crocodile Hunter can find. I want your ‘outback’, Walter," he continues as he towels off his hair. My loud groan dissolves into laughter as Fox shuts off the bathroom light and mimics some sort of slither towards the bed, his tongue flicking in and out in a very snake-like manner, hands held palms together over his head in a decidedly mock-Egyptian dance. He juts his hips out as he moves so that his penis swings between his legs and try as I might, he’s just too damned hot to take my eyes off of.

"They’re not in Egypt, you dope," I tell him as he falls face down onto the foot of the bed when he’s close enough, his tongue still flicking out at me from between his full lips, his hazel eyes full of mischievous intent. My cock is already pitching a promising tent under the covers, and he waggles his eyebrows at me as he crawls up the bed on all fours towards me, not stopping until he’s completely straddling me, covering my body with his own. He flicks his tongue out one final time and catches me on the tip of my nose, and I roar at him as I wrap my arms around him and pull him down to me, both of us laughing hysterically.

I rest my hands on his bare hips and speak once I’ve caught my breath, "Spitting cobra my ass," I murmur into his ear, biting the lobe and making him squeal on top of me. He returns my embrace with what can only be described as a giggle as he replies, "Croikey, that’s right where he wants to go, too," in horrible homage to an Australian accent. I start to laugh again, but the sound is stifled with his tongue and lips as he grinds his erection firmly against mine through the covers, his hands trailing down between us as he kisses me to find my nipples and pinch and tease them into tiny pebbles.

I moan into his ear, running my hands up his sides past his face to grab handfuls of the damp silk that is his unruly hair and pull him closer to me. Our lips meet in a passionate war, and our tongues duel to the death while our groins pump against one another. "Lose the covers now, Walt," he moans into my mouth as he raises himself off of me enough for me to gently kick them down with my feet, his erection pressing firmly up against his stomach. Skin to skin now, we continue our dance in complete and total ignorance of the television, which I manage to switch off when I locate the remote before dropping it to the floor.

I gasp at the sensation of his hard-on against mine, our over-sensitized flesh rubbing together while we both moan inarticulate words of affection to one another. The friction is absolutely delicious and mind-numbing in its intensity; I don’t even realize that he’s rolled us both over onto our sides until he breaks our kiss so that he can coat two of his fingers with his saliva. He moves his hand behind me until he finds the tiny opening in the cleft of my ass, and he pushes his damp digits into it, forcing a deep moan out of me. He once again finds my lips with his own and claims my mouth, as well as the rest of me, using his fingers to poke and prod and stretch me. He purposely grazes my prostate, and I buck forward against him, causing him to moan in the midst of his ministrations.

It’s not long before he has me opened enough to accept his erection, and he whispers in my ear that I have to get on all fours. "You’re fucking GORgeous," he tells me, and I am so far gone that I can’t even laugh at his use of that damned Australian accent again. All I can do is groan his name, which appears to turn him on even more if that’s at all possible. "Fffoxss, please…now," I whisper to him as I move to accommodate his request and his cock, my breath coming in very short but heavy gasps, "Need you babe, please," I beg him.

"Sssshh, you don’t have to beg me…love you, just wanna’ show you," he mutters against the back of my neck, the heated flesh of his stomach now pressing against that of my back. I can feel the tip of his cock against my anus, his pre-cum serving as lubricant enough to slide into me the first couple of inches. He allows me to adjust to his size before he pushes the rest of the way in, moaning my name as he buries himself in me to the hilt, the firm flesh of his balls resting against my ass cheeks.

"Oh God yeah," I groan to him, "You feel so good," I encourage him as he wastes no time in reaching around me to wrap his hand around my hard-on. He grasps me firmly and begins the slow and tortuous process of bringing me off manually while he glides slowly in and out of my ass, making sure to keep a steady rhythm with both his hips and his hand. He slides into me fully, his hand sliding down to the base of my cock and squeezing tentatively, then pulls out of my tight heat almost fully while his hand retreats to the tip of my erection, his thumb rubbing my pre-cum in a circular motion. Just when I’m sure that I can’t take anymore of his teasing, he grasps my dick firmly and moves his hand back down to the base while he slides back into my body. The warring sensations drive me out of my mind, and I don’t even cringe when he removes the hand NOT stroking my cock from my hip and spanks me when I attempt to thrust into the hand holding me.

"No cheating, Walter," he pants into my ear, and I nearly come when he uses his tongue to ream the sensitized flesh between the back of my ear and my naked scalp, "Do you want to come?" He asks me, his breath no more than a whisper as he thrusts in and out of me from behind while his hand works its magic in front.

"Yesss…I — oh, god, yeah," I tell him, my voice hoarse with lust. He starts to stroke my cock faster, using his fingers to increase pressure in the places that he knows drive me wild, using his cock to brush purposely against my prostate at the same time. My breathing is faster now, and I can feel my orgasm building at the base of my spine; his cock and his hand are taking me to a place that only HE can take me. He knows all of my secrets, all of my desires. He knows how to do it; how to take me to the place where no one else has ever taken me, and he delights in it. Even as he pants in my ear, his hand working me furiously as he pumps in and out of my body — he is completely aware of the effect that he has on me, and on my body. On my being. On my very soul. IN my very soul, right where I want him - where I need him most.

"Unnhh…oh God, Fox," I warn him; I’m nearly ready now, but he knows already. He knows the feel of my cock so intimately that he can feel my tension building, can feel the impending orgasm just beyond a few more thrusts…and he thrusts into me more roughly, knowing that it’s what I need, what I can no longer go without. He moans my name into my ear from above and behind me, and I cry out his name as I spill over his hand and onto the sheets that cover our bed. He thrusts quickly once more, then twice — and his spasms against and inside me let me know that we have once again managed to come together, our twitching subsiding together in the darkness of our bedroom.

Exhausted and sated, sweat and a myriad of other fluids threatening to glue us together, Mulder rolls off of my back and lands next to me, both of us out of breath and glowing. We meet one another’s eyes in smiles from the depths of our souls that reach both of our faces at the same time. Panting, we stare at each other, both of us amazed at the fact that we have once again become one. It never gets old, this dance that we do.

"I love you," I gasp at him, reveling in his sweat covered body lying next to mine, wondering how I ever made it this far in my life without him.

"I love you too, Walter," he says gently, bringing his hand up to cup my face lovingly. I close my eyes as his hand makes contact with my cheek, content to merely drink in this moment as I have so many other moments that we’ve shared, post-coital or not.

"Croiky, I need a shower mate," he says after several minutes, releasing my face and running his hands through his now sweat-soaked hair. We both chuckle, and I reply, "Well, you little bugger, I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine," in my best Erwin-esque Australian. We both share another fit of laughter — and another soul-searing kiss - before we drag our exhausted asses out of bed and into the shower, where we wash each other down thoroughly, get out and towel off, and tumble back into bed, wrapping ourselves in one another’s arms.

***********************************

"I totally agree, Walt," he says before taking a long drink of coffee from the cup beside his plate, "Where should we go?" He asks me when he’s finished a huge gulp of caffeine.

"Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you," I tell him before eating a mouthful of eggs from my own plate, "Where do YOU think we should go?" I chew slowly on purpose, watching his face, the wheels clearly turning in that beautiful head of his. I could watch him think for days, I muse to myself as I continue to eat my breakfast; he’s adorable in every aspect of the word, and then some. His head is cocked to one side as he ponders my question, his unruly hair sticking up in every direction after our shower together last night. I want to kiss him into next year, I think to myself as I take another bite of bacon and wash it down with my coffee.

"How about if we just take a few days off and hang around here…you know, check out the local museums and nightlife, pretend that we don't have a care in the world, stay out late and sleep in even later. How does that sound?"

"Are you sure that's what you want to do, Fox?" I ask him cautiously, wondering if perhaps he has an alterior motive to keep him close to home base, so to speak. "I mean, doesn't a beach sound nice? Someplace with sand and surf? Someplace where we can get away from it all?"

"Walter, the only thing that constitutes 'getting away from it all' for ME is to not have to walk down the hallowed halls of the goddamned JEH building on a daily basis. Riding that elevator down to the sub-level basement DOES take its toll, you know?" He asks me, smiling as he finishes off his coffee and gets up for a refill.

I DO know how he feels, actually. I feel the same damn way; I'm tired of the bureaucratic bullshit, the constant feeling of having someone watching over my shoulder - no, BOTH of our shoulders. I've been thinking about it for a long time now, re-evaluating my career ever since we lost Scully. While I'm pondering that train of thought, he sits back down in front of me, having refilled both of our mugs, and the smile just sort of fades from his lips first, then disappears completely from his eyes.

"Walter, it's just not the same since Dana died, you know? I mean, shit…there was always this great team effort going on with us. No one wants to work with me now. I'm still 'Spooky Mulder', even after all my years of hard work and dedication to my cause. I'm just not so sure what that all even IS anymore," he finishes, setting his cup on the table and fixing his hazel gaze intently on my face, no doubt trying to read my reaction.

I'm not sure if my lower jaw is actually resting on my chest - or if it just feels that way - but I nearly go into shock at his words. He's tired of his quest? His never-ending fascination…no, obsession…with finding his sister…is that finally finding its way off of his priority list?

"What is it, Walter? You look like you've seen a ghost," he tells me, downing half of his coffee in one big gulp.

"What did you just say, Mulder?" I ask him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, you're scaring me here. What the hell is wrong?" He asks me, concern radiating not only from his gorgeously gold-flecked orbs, but from his entire body.

"Mulder, you…you just all but said that your quest was…was…" I can't even finish my sentence because it's so fucking unbelievable that those words just escaped his lips. After all of the grief that we've been through because of his damned inability to let go of the past and go on with his life; and now, just like that, he's ready to reassess his entire career? "What about Samantha," I ask him, my voice almost back up to normal volume. I pray inwardly that my uttering his long lost sister's name won't cause World War III between us, and actually release a sigh of relief at his response.

"Yeah, what ABOUT Samantha, Walter?" He asks as he gets up from the table and crosses the kitchen to the sink so he can lean on the counter and look out the window. "What about that, huh? I mean, that's been the total sum of everything I've done for the last eight years of my life, you know?" He pauses, and I throw in my agreement, "Yes Mulder, I know."

"So what exactly HAS that gotten me, Walter? I mean, aside from finding all those really nifty fucking mutants. And of COURSE aside from the fact that Scully would probably still be around if she'd never been assigned to me in the first place." His voice trails off and I get up from my chair and walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer to me so that his back is plastered against my chest. I bury my nose in his hair and do my best to comfort him while he starts speaking again, offering him whatever comfort I can with my embrace.

"I suppose I've just had enough time to realize what's really important, Walter. The only thing that really matters now…is you. Us," he says with emphasis, and goes on, albeit emotionally; he's practically choking on his own words at this point, "My whole quest…my whole LIFE for all these years…has been based on half-truths; my attention being diverted by WHOMever for WHATever cause. It's only in these last many months that I…I've realized what's truly important. And it's you, Walter. All you," he tells me, twisting around so that he faces me, his eyes glistening with tears threatening to begin falling at any moment.

"I love you, Walter Skinner, and I don't want to add you to the body count of my quest. It has to stop somewhere, and as far as I'm concerned, this is the best possible point. I…I only wish I'd realized all of this before we lost her," he says, the lump finally closing off his throat as his sobs begin in earnest. He rests his head against my shoulder and lets it all out, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me so tightly that it would take the 'Jaws of Life' to pry us apart - as IF I'd ask for any reprieve from his most heartfelt meanderings.

"Sssshhh Fox, it's alright sweetheart. Let it out," I murmur into his ear, alternately stroking his back and the back of his head with my hands. "What happened to Dana…it had NOTHING to do with you, Mulder. She made the decision to join the Bureau in the first place; she recognized the dangers involved. It was always a very real threat - hell, it is for ALL of us - and you know that. And Dana knew that, too." He nods against my chest and I hold him tighter to me, glad that despite all that's happened to us in the last year, we're both still here.

*********************************

"Mulder, there's something I want to talk to you about," I tell him later that evening, while we're both sprawled out on the couch together, shoulder to shoulder with our bare feet up on the table, watching baseball. I was going to wait until we went on vacation to bring it up, but since he's shown no interest in getting the hell out of dodge for any period of time, I decide that now is as good a time as any. Especially in light of our discussion earlier this morning; I wonder if he has any idea of the extent that I'm sicker of those 'hallowed JEH halls' than he is.

"Yeah, what is it," he asks me with only limited interest, leaning forward to grab his beer, his eyes still focusing only on the television. I don't have his full attention yet, but I'm sure that I will in the next five seconds. Four. Three. Deep breath and…

"I've been thinking about retiring, Fox," I tell him simply.

"Good one, Walter," he laughs, shaking his head and leaning forward again to place his beer back on the table before he glances over at me…and all semblance of humor leaves his features. "Jesus Christ, you can't be serious!" His mouth is wide open, and for the first time in a long time, Fox William Mulder has been rendered speechless. I begin to laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when he jumps up from the sofa, grabbing the remote and turning off the television as he begins to pace around the living room. Shit.

"Fox, I thought you'd be happy. Hell, just this morning you were talking about being sick of the 'hallowed halls' and all that," I tell him, and he just holds a hand up to silence me - which he succeeds in doing - and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You. Want to retire." Hands on his hips now as he looks down at me, his lower lip trembling ever so slightly. "Walter, you're not even 50 yet."

"I'm 49, Fox. My days as an Agent are far behind me, and I'm sick of pushing papers across that great big desk for so many younger up-and-comers to process. I don't have a snowball's chance in hell at even making the LIST for Deputy Director. There's nowhere else for me to go, Mulder," I finish, exasperated at his apparent disdain for my decision. I mean, I hadn't even really mentally finalized it yet, just thought I'd run it past him. That was obviously my FIRST mistake.

"You CAN'T!" He yells at me, and I wince at his tone. "There's no one else on my side! Who the hell is going to watch my back if you're gone? NO ONE, that's who," he bellows, starting his pacing again. "No fucking way, Walter. Absolutely not." He stops in mid-pace once more and looks at me like he's made his decision and there's nothing more to say on the subject. Mistake number two on its way…

"Mulder," I begin, standing up so I can at least be at his level. My jaw's clenched and my hands are up as a sign of surrender. Still, I'm ready for battle, "You just said this morning that-" he cuts me off, and I realize immediately that this can of worms would have been MUCH better opened out of town and away from the heart of the matter.

"SCREW what I said this morning, Walter! Goddammit, what the hell…just because I was thinking out loud, you've all of a sudden decided that you're ready to call it quits?"

Now I'm genuinely pissed, and he watches my hands clench into fists, watches the muscles in my face tighten - as they have so many times due to our discussions - and he actually softens a bit. Not much, but enough that I'm able to let go of my frustration just a little bit so I can explain. "Fox, I'm tired. I've given this one hell of a lot of thought…I'm sick to death of being watched over like I need some sort of fucking babysitter. When I joined the FBI all those years ago, I never imagined that my career would end up like this," I finish, instantly regretting the last sentence. Double shit, now he's probably going to think…

"Ohhh, I get it," Mulder barks an angry laugh out, the sound harsh in the almost palpably stressed air between us, "It's ALL out now, isn't it Walter? Out, just like YOU. You son of a BITCH," he hisses at me, and my anger fades into hurt, then into resentment because he refuses to let me elaborate, instead forging right on into his own tirade. "Yes, it's all crystal fucking clear now. You never figured that your less than illustrious career would come to THIS, did you?" He shouts at me as he motions towards himself, and I shake my head at him in negation, still unable to get a word in as he continues. His entire body is trembling now, "The Great and Powerful Assistant Director of the FBI has been reduced to screwing the only prized agent that he has left in an attempt to recapture his fucking GLORY DAYS. And NOW, ladies and gentlemen, for his NEXT trick, the old coot is RETIRING! Yep, you heard it right…he's heading on out, ready to rock his remaining years away on the great big porch of DISCONTENT!"

"That's NOT what I meant, Fox, and you KNOW it," I shout back at him, momentarily silencing him. It's all the entry back into the conversation that I need, so I stalk over to stand directly in front of him. I place my hands on his shoulders for support and comfort, "I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I'd end up being a fucking patsy for every goddamned conspiracy to come down the pipeline," I growl at him. He slumps forward slightly in my grasp at my words, the guilt that he's so used to carrying around back once more to weigh him down. I actually notice his eyes darken and moisten as I continue, "I love you, Mulder. Is it so wrong that I would want to spend the rest of my days enjoying that WITHOUT being a fucking desk-jockey? I've already lost your partner, Fox. I won't lose you, too. I…I can't," I tell him whole-heartedly, "Besides…the Deputy Director offered me a great early-retirement package courtesy of Mr. Freeh," I throw in weakly for good measure, waggling my eyebrows a bit at my lover in a meager attempt to lighten up the situation.

My heart still cracks a bit when the first tear rolls down his face. "You didn't lose Scully, Walter," he tells me sadly, sniffling a bit as he reaches up to wipe the stray drops from his cheeks. "If you leave, it's really all over. I mean, this is IT…I'll have no more backup whatsoever, and I might as well leave too. Despite what I said this morning, it really WOULD be over. I'm just not sure I'm ready to…make it that final yet," my lover tells me.

"Fox, just because I want to retire doesn't mean -" he cuts me off again, and I sigh deeply as I release his shoulders. This was NOT how I wanted our weekend to progress, I think to myself as I watch Mulder's emotions race across his face.

"Yes it does, Walter, it most certainly DOES mean that I'm through. They'll fucking torture me until I can't stand it anymore. They'll make me quit, if they don’t fire me first. Who do you think will take over for you?"

He does have a point there. Alvin Kersh would be more than happy to take over Fox Mulder's department - for no other purpose than to eradicate it entirely. Another deep sigh emanates from my chest, "It was just an idea, Mulder. Just a thought. I was just THINKING about it. And after what you said this morning, I just figured that maybe now was the right time. I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry…can we just…relax and watch the game?" I ask him, sitting back down on the couch and motioning for him to join me.

"I think I need to go for a run, Walter," he tells me as he climbs the stairs to our room. Minutes later, he comes back down in sweats, his nylon jacket, and running shoes. "I'll be back in a while. I just need to…think about things," he tells me. I nod once, my gaze still locked on the blank television screen, and I close my eyes as I hear the door click shut behind me. I wonder if I've managed to lose him already as I get up and open the sliding glass doors, stepping out onto the balcony and gazing up at the stars. I try to find an answer up there in that great abyss, but none is forthcoming.

*************************************

Fox should have been home at LEAST two hours ago. It’s dark, and even though he has a propensity for using running as some kind of cleansing ritual, I really wish he’d get his ass home. The topic of my retirement - and the ensuing argument - didn’t go anything like I’d hoped it would, and there are still so many things I want to tell him. I’m sure I won’t have much more of a chance to explain it to him before he bites my head off again, but I’d at least like to try. Sighing, I turn off the television; I haven’t been watching it for the last three hours anyway, just using it as a means of background noise while I sorted through my thoughts.

Finally, half an hour later, I hear his key in the lock and I stay on the couch while he walks in and shuts the door behind him. He walks over to stand in front of me, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. His hair is drenched with it, and I can see that he’s exhausted, but a bit happier than when he left; most of the anger is gone from his eyes, and he’s almost smiling at me. Still breathing heavily, he speaks to me as though nothing happened before he stormed out of here, "Hey honey, I’m home," he attempts a smirk at me.

"So I see, Fox. Why don’t you go take a shower before you drip all over the carpet?" I put my hands on my knees and stand up, stretching as I do, and head into the kitchen, calling back over my shoulder, "Want anything to drink?"

"Water’d be great, Walt, thanks," he says, and I grab a beer for myself and a bottle of spring water for him, then walk back into the living room and wait for him to finish pulling off his blue and white nylon jacket. He slings the jacket over his arm and I hand him the bottle as I take a long drag from my beer, waiting to see if he has anything more to say to me before I attempt to pick up the conversation from before. "Uh, I guess I’ll go grab a shower now. I’m assuming you’ll want to talk when I’m finished?" he asks, tilting his head back and draining half of the liquid in one gulp.

"That would be nice, Fox, but only if you’re sure that we’re only going to talk about it. I have no intention of waiting up for you should you feel the need to run around all of DC at this time of night if we touch on something that you don’t want to continue discussing." I unclench my jaw long enough to take another sip of beer, and try to gage his reaction to my somewhat sarcastic response.

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh before he drains the rest of his water and hands me the empty bottle, "Whatever, Walter. It just surprised me, that’s all. I’m sorry I got so bent out of shape, okay? Just let me get cleaned up and we can talk about whatever you want." He leans forward like he wants to press a kiss to my cheek, but I turn away a little, and he ‘tsks’ at me as he shakes his head and goes upstairs to shower.

I suppose that now I’m being the asshole, but goddammit, he’s GOT to learn not to run out just because he’s pissed off about something that we’re just DISCUSSING. It’s not like it’s written in stone or anything, but trying to make Fox Mulder stick around while you talk about something he’s not interested in is like trying to paint a picture of cars going 70 mph on the expressway. Not real productive. I finish my beer and go upstairs myself once I’ve turned all the lights off in the living room, shed my clothes down to my briefs and climb into bed. I take off my watch and my glasses and set them on the nightstand, rubbing the bridge of my nose; it’s almost a form of meditation for me after all these years of dealing with Fox. I guess that’s why I find myself doing it so often these days. It also makes me wonder if perhaps I’d do a lot less of it if I were actually retired.

*******************************

Ten minutes later, naked and hair sticking out EVERY which way, Fox bounds out of the bathroom and jumps onto the bed, crawling up and snuggling under the covers next to me. He rests his still slightly-damp head on my chest and wraps his arms around me, pressing a light kiss into the pepper and salt curls covering my chest. "Okay, Walter. I’m ready to talk now," he says, nuzzling me affectionately.

Damn him, he KNOWS I can’t resist him when he’s like this. I wrap my arms around him and press a kiss into the spiky but soft hair on his head, all my frustration at his earlier tantrum having dissipated when he curled himself around me. "Fox, I’ve only been thinking about retiring, okay? I mean, I haven’t made a final decision, and I would never do something like this without making sure that you were alright with it. It’s just...after what you told me this morning, it seemed like a good time to bring up the fact that I HAVE been thinking about it."

"I’m sorry, Walter," he says softly, his lips tickling my chest with every word, "I didn’t mean to explode at you like that. I mean, just like you said that you’ve been thinking about retiring? Well, I’ve been thinking about my quest, and what I’ve been doing with my life all these years. Aside from Dana," he pauses for a moment then and I can feel him take a deep breath, "Aside from Scully, you’re the only one I’ve ever really loved, Walter. And also, aside from her, you’re the only that’s ever really loved ME...I can’t...I mean, there’s really no point in me staying on at the Bureau without you."

"Fox," I tell him softly, rubbing small circles on his smooth back with my hands, "If I retire, it doesn’t mean that you have to leave your job. You could transfer to another department, or another office, or...Hell, Mulder, we could move to a different state and you could start over-"

This time when he cuts me off he uses a quiet tone so as not to be argumentative, "No, Walter. I could never start over. Besides; Scully and I chased down so many cases in other states, and I’ve managed to single-handedly offend and/or outdo just about every other agent I’ve ever come into contact with. I’m pretty well-known, Walt," he says, and I chuckle deep in my chest at that - he’s certainly not lying, "No one wants to work with me - here or anywhere else. And frankly, there’s no one that I really want to work with, either. Except you," he says, pulling away from me and gazing at me adoringly.

"Mulder, you work FOR me, not with me," I chide, and he gives me one of those half-smiles that make his bottom lip even fuller than it usually is - I can’t resist leaning in and pressing a kiss there, which earns me a full-wattage Mulder grin. It actually gives me a shiver; I love him so fucking much that it hurts sometimes.

"You know what I mean, Skinner," he responds, sliding up so that he’s sitting next to me for a moment, then turning and insinuating one leg over both of mine so that a second later he’s straddling me. The covers are now down and bunched up behind his back, and his half-erect dick is pressing promisingly against the crotch of my briefs. Grinding himself against me just a little, he presses against me so that his bare chest is just within reach of my lips. I kiss and nip and lick every inch of flesh that I can touch, finally taking one of his nipples inbetween my teeth and biting him, making him groan and grind a little more firmly.

His arms are wrapped around my shoulders now, his hands caressing the fringe of hair along the back of my skull and smoothing over my scalp in a type of massage. With his nipple still between my teeth, I growl up at him, "What do you want, lover?" I buck up against him once with my hips, and his cock becomes completely hard with the contact; I’m pitching quite a promising tent myself, and he removes his right hand from my shoulders and reaches down and strokes me throught the thin white cotton barrier keeping us separated.

"Lose these," he moans as he rolls off of me long enough for me to slide them down and kick the offending material down to the bottom of the bed. Resuming his straddling position, we both moan as our cocks bob against one another, both of us slowly teasing the other with slight bucks and rubbing, careful not to stay in one place too long should the fun end prematurely. Even though we’ve been together nearly a year, we still have the effect on each other, on occasion, where we shoot faster than virgin teenagers. Neither of us wants that to happen tonight. We’ve had a long day of talking - and arguing - and now it’s time for making out and up, and godDAMN no one does it like Fox Mulder. Of course, I’m no slouch in that department myself...

********************************

He’s rutting against me now, and FUCK it feels so good to have his weight resting in my lap, on top of me, and by the time he remembers to kiss me, I’m ready to eat him alive. I open my lips for him and he plunges in with his tongue, stroking in and out of my mouth like I know I’ll be doing to him with my cock in about another two minutes. Whenever he gets in this position with me - his body pressed as close to mine as he can, his legs wrapped around my waist and teasing me with his ass, arms pulling me as close to him as they possibly can, I know he wants me in his ass. All it takes is one upthrust of my hips and he practically sobs, "Unh, oh God babe...fuck me, please, please...want you, NOW, hard..oh god, in me," he groans, rubbing his cock against my washboard abs as hard as he can.

"Ssssh Fox, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna’ fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for at least three days...how does that sound, lover," I ask him, my voice almost a whisper in contrast to his loud groans and pleadings.

"Yeah, yeah, oh God, Walter, now, please," he begs me again, and I reach into the nightstand and get the tube of lube out and fumble the top off, clutching his ass with my left hand and smearing lube around and into him with two of the fingers on my right hand. He bucks back on my digits so hard that he nearly flies off of my lap, and I just pull him back towards me, sinking my fingers in deeper. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m more turned on by how desperate he is for me or by his actions; suddenly, it doesn’t really seem all that important.

He cries out when I remove my fingers from his ass, and to get his attention while I move my hand down to slick my own throbbing dick up, I bite firmly into the flesh of his neck between his shoulder and his ear and suck HARD, and he howls at the top of his lungs, his body seemingly on auto-pilot as it bucks frantically against me.

"Are you ready for me, Fox? Do you want me to fuck you now?" I ask him, my teeth still pinching his sensitized skin, "Are you ready for my big hard cock, babe?" Sweat is already running down my temples, and I don’t even care; it just acts as a friction reducer, and Fox is dripping all over me anyway.

"FUCK yes, NOW," he sobs, and I grab both of his hips firmly and find his tiny pucker with the head of my cock, pressing in just a little bit, trying to be careful - until Fox decides that he’s waited long enough and sits down as hard as he can in my lap, driving my prick completely into his ready and writhing body.

"Jezussss," I hiss as his tight opening swallows me in, trying to be still to allow him to adjust to me, but he just grabs my shoulders and starts to ride - slowly at first - lifting himself up and then slamming back down into my lap as hard as he can. We both grunt with the first several such moves, and as his body stretches to accommodate me, he moves faster, both of us breathing hard.

For awhile, he pauses on every downstroke so that he can kiss me, then pulls away and lifts up, then slams back down and meets my lips. That doesn’t last very long though, because he’s found the right angle for me to graze his prostate and he makes full use of the advantage.

"Unnhh..oh god, yeah...love you so FUCKING much," he hisses out from behind clenched teeth. His head is thrown back and his hair is soaking wet again, his chest thrust forward and sliding against mine continuously, our sweat melding together, his hands clutching my shoulders for dear life, his eyes squeezed shut...Goddammit, just LOOKING at him like this makes me want to come, and if he doesn’t stop driving me into him so deep...

"Oh yeah, right there, right there - harder," I manage to growl out at him, and he keeps me inside of him all the way, his sphincter muscles tightening and convulsing around me, and I’m going to come ANY minute now, "God, Fox, movemovemove...gonnacome, babe, want you to come with me...HARD," I yell into his chest.

He lifts up and braces himself on my shoulders for a full ten seconds before he finally drops himself down onto my cock as hard as he can, and then we can both feel my balls convulsing underneath his ass. "FFFUCKKKK," I scream against his sweat dampened flesh, then grab his hips and pull him to me, sealing our bodies together fully as I shoot my cum so deep into his body that I wonder vaguely if he can taste it.

Releasing a strangled cry of his own that sounds a little like my name with a few extra syllables, I feel his balls tighten against my abdomen and his own cock releases a stream of semen that somehow finds its way up and slathers both of our chests, despite our close proximity. We clutch one another for several minutes, heaving breaths driving us closer together with each inhale and exhale, my softening cock spasming in his ass, his deflating prick spasming against my stomach; it just doesn’t get any better than this.

****************************************

I’m here packing up my office; my last official duty as Assistant Director for the FBI. I don’t think that $50,000 a year with benefits is a bad deal at all - that’s what they’ll be paying me for the next ten years. After that, I’ll be ready for Social Security, which will come out being pretty close to my severance. Goddammit, who ever would’ve figured how eager the government is to get rid of the old guys and replace them with the 20-year olds? Poor kids; they only come in at about $23,000 these days...but they are fresh-faced and ready for the fight, I’ll give them that.

I wonder if there’s something wrong with me that I’m actually looking forward to not coming in here every day; all the twelve and fourteen hour days that I’ve put in, all the shit I’ve put up with from my superiors (and superiors that supposedly don’t even exist), all the weekends I’ve missed out on. It all seems so far away already, and I haven’t even enjoyed my first Monday being work-free yet.

Fox and I spent most of our free time these last couple weeks discussing everything, and he really did end up agreeing with me about the job. I told him that he’ll still have my full support, and he has actually ended up being pretty damned supportive. Still, I can’t help but think about the look on his face as we left the condo this morning. He looked a little...lost, almost. I wish that I felt more guilty about this, but I don’t. I just can’t. I’ve...no, WE’VE...been through so much already, and I really AM getting too old to go chasing after mutants and mother ships with Mulder. In fact, he admitted nearly the same thing to me just last night.

I smile as I pick up my nameplate and place it in the box on top of the other items that have made this office mine for the last thirteen years, remembering my excitement at the promotion from Special Agent Skinner to AD Skinner. My smile fades as I my thoughts switch to Fox, and how he realized years ago that he would never be able to move up through the echalons the traditional way; hell, he’d never get out of that basement, and he KNEW it. He still knows it, and he reiterated that to me once more last night as we lay in one another’s arms after we’d made slow, sweet love on our last night together as AD and suboordinate.

There’s a knock at my door, and I shake off my memories and half-shout, "Come in," surprised when Mulder walks in. His coat jacket is slung over his shoulder, and he gives me a huge grin as he hands me an envelope. It’s a plain white envelope and he has scrawled ‘AD Skinner’ on the front of it. "What’s this," I ask him, holding it up to the window so that I might cheat and see inside it; no such luck.

"Open it, sir," he says, still smiling at me, his hazel eyes with their golden flecks shining almost too-brightly for the dim light of my office. "It’s your copy," he tells me, beaming, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. I wonder what in the hell he’s up to now, I think as I open the envelope and pull out the paper inside, unfolding it cautiously, shooting him one more glance before I read it.

"That’s the last damn time you call me sir, Mulder, you got it?" I growl at him, fixing a fake scowl on my face - which fades into shocked surprise when I get to the bottom of the sole paragraph gracing the page, along with today’s date and Fox’s signature. He never ceases to amaze me, and most likely never will, this man.

"Next-to-last-damn-time, sir. That’s your copy; I’ve already handed it in to the Deputy Director, and CC’d everyone that I needed to in order to make it official. I wanted to surprise you...you know, make this your last official act as Assistant Director of the FBI. So, are you surprised?" He has the nerve to ask some minutes later while I’m still standing here with my jaw hanging open and the letter dangling from my right hand.

"Fox, you can’t DO this," I whisper to him, dropping the letter to the ground so I can reach up and take off my wirerims and rub the bridge of my nose YET again; yes, I suppose I am doomed to repeat this action over and over for the rest of my - no, OUR lives.

"Walter. They’ve offered me a severance package ALMOST as good as yours to resign and leave with you. I’d be a fucking MORON to say no. And, they’re going to pay me until I’m YOUR age!" He smirks at me, and I reach out and grab him and pull him to me, not caring if anyone happens to walk in on us.

"Are you sure," I mutter into his ear, squeezing my eyes tightly shut against my emotions; I never saw this coming. I never would have figured that he’d leave with me. But he is. He really really is. "You have to be SURE, Fox. I’ll never forgive myself if you -" he shushes me by placing his right index finger across my lips, and says, "I am sure, Walter. I’ve never been more sure of anything else...except us, of course," he finishes, tears glistening, making those gold flecks all the more pronounced.

"I love you," I whisper to him, and he smiles at me as one lone tear rolls down his cheek, "So much, Fox, so much," I tell him, returning his smile, tears in my own eyes now.

"Let’s go home, Walter," he says, kissing me on the cheek and then grabbing my box of things from what used to be my desk. "You can get my box...it’s just outside the door," he chuckles, wiping at his eyes quickly with his sleeve, "And hey, Walt, don’t crumple up that poster, okay? I’m going to hang it in the bedroom when we get home," he snorts, then takes off at a jog for the elevator at the end of the hall.

"Mulder, you are NOT hanging that damned UFO poster up in our bedroom. Do you hear me, Fox?" I shout after him, running to catch up to him with his box of things in my arms, ignoring the seemingly disgusted glances that meet me from passersby in the hallway. He holds the elevator door open for me, waiting for me to hop in next to him, and then we both put our boxes down on the floor of the metal car and stare at the small group of Agents that have collected to watch us go.

"That’s right," I tell them, not a trace of uncertainty or embarassment in my face OR my tone, "He may be ‘Spooky’, but he’s ALL MINE," I sneer, then grab Mulder and dip him in my arms as though we were in the middle of a dance hall instead of the Supervisor’s Hall of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. As the doors close, I plant a big juicy one right on his lips; the last thing those people ever heard or saw from us was Fox murmuring, "Oh Walter" as I kissed him.

I have no idea where we’ll go from here. We’ve talked about traveling, and I’m sure I’ll be able to drag him to SEVERAL beaches before I’m through with him...just as I’m sure he’ll be able to drag ME to every UFO sighting spot and convention known to man. I don’t care anymore; as long as we’re together, we’re going to be just fine. No more threats from shadow conspiracies, or nameless faceless men with guns, or vials of cure-all’s to unknown government distributed diseases, or ANY of that shit. From now on, it’s just Fox and Walter. On permanent vacation, courtesy of the F.B. Fucking. I.

"I mean it, Fox. You’re NOT hanging that thing up in the bedroom..."

*************************************

The END. THE END of TOL X, and the END of the series! Thanks SO much for reading, and there WILL be more fic! Take care!