THEN:

It was supposed to have been a celebration of sorts.  Three weeks since Walter Skinner had technically died in a hospital bed in Georgetown, and now he was alive, and his doctors were calling it a miracle.

Fox Mulder didn't know from miracles, he only knew that, as he looked across his dining room table at his lover, the thought of Walter Skinner not being in his life was enough to make him lose his appetite.

Not that he had much of one tonight. He'd ordered in Thai food, and bought Walter's favorite wine to go with the meal.  It was their first night alone together since Walter had been poisoned, and Mulder wanted everything to be perfect.  So far, nothing was.

It had started this morning, when Mulder had received the pictures of Walter's assailant from the photo lab. No amount of fake hair could have disguised the man once Mulder had a chance to study the face carefully. And once he knew, he couldn't unknow, as much as he may have wanted to.  And suddenly, still staring at those cruel, handsome features, Mulder understood what had happened, and why.

He had told Walter about Krycek during one of their first nights together, when they were still finding their way around their new relationship, and wanting to know all about one another past the information each of them had garnered about the other from work.  Mulder wasn't ashamed of the affair, just glad that it had been brief, and a little sad that the man had turned out to be a traitor.  Walter didn't hold it against him either, as he had thought he might. He'd displayed gentle interest in the story, then proceeded to physically drive all thoughts of the Russian rat right out of him.

Mulder wanted to pursue the case immediately.  Even though it technically didn't fall into his division, and even though the whole S.R.819 fiasco had been effectively terminated, the fact remained that someone had tried to kill Walter, and he knew who that someone was.  And he just might be able to find him.  All Walter had to do was give him the okay.

Walter refused.

Mulder was stunned.  He couldn't understand why Walter wouldn't let him do this for him.  It seemed so simple.  But all the doors were shut before he could even begin.  Walter refused to identify his would-be-murderer.  He refused to reopen the case, or begin a new investigation.  And he flat out told Mulder to forget about it.

Furious, Mulder had turned to leave the office with Scully, when Walter called him back. Scully gave him a concerned yet understanding look and left without him. A moment later, Kimberly stuck her head in, said "I'll hold your calls," to Walter, and quietly shut the door.

Immediately, Mulder began demanding to know why Walter wouldn't allow him to follow up on the case, why he wouldn't want to see the man who had killed him brought to justice, why he was lying about recognizing the man.

Walter came around the desk in one smooth motion, took Mulder into his arms and cut off his words with a kiss so thorough and consuming that Mulder was left dazed and breathless when Walter pulled his mouth off of his.  Still holding the younger man tightly, he nuzzled his hair, then whispered in his ear, his warm breath making Mulder shiver.

"Let it go, Fox. Please."

Walter stepped away, gave Mulder a look that was filled with both demand and desire, then turned back to the desk.  With his back to his lover, he said quietly, "Supper's at 8, right?"

"I…" Mulder was still breathing hard, and confusion had been added to the emotions he was feeling, which didn't help matters a bit.  He stared at Walter's broad back, and wanted nothing more in that moment than to press himself to it. He stepped forward, and Walter returned to his chair. Mulder stopped, and their eyes locked, saying more than all their words could.

"Eight, yeah," Mulder finally said in a voice barely above a whisper. "That's not too late, is it?"

"It's perfect.  Now go on. Scully probably thinks the worst." Walter gave him a lopsided grin that looked more sad than teasing.

All day, Mulder had fretted over the case like a dog with a bone, unable to drop the matter, unable to pursue it.  He was jittery and irritable and even Scully commented on it, which made him snap at her, then apologize guiltily.

"Mulder, can't you just be happy that Walter is alive and well? Why does everything have to be a case file?" she had demanded. "Can't you just accept this and move on?"

"Scully, you said it yourself-these things that were put into him, they're not dead. Just dormant, and they could come back at any time. How can I not use every tool I possess to keep that from happening to him? Or to someone else for that matter?" He gave her a beseeching look.

She nodded her agreement, but added, "It's Walter's life as much as yours, Mulder, and you have to let him play it the way he needs to."

He mulled over her words for the rest of the day, then left early, telling her he had to clean up a little since Walter was coming over for supper.

She smiled and sent him off with a kiss on the cheek and a stern order to "Just do this his way.  For him."

Walter had showed up at his apartment a few minutes before eight, a briefcase of files and a bouquet of apologies in the form of roses in his hand. He offered the flowers and another one of those sad smiles to his lover, then stepped inside the apartment, commenting, "The place looks great-you dusted this month, didn't you?"

"Ha ha, Walter. You're funny." Mulder took the flowers and tossed them on the small table by the door. Then he took the briefcase and threw it under the same table. Walter started removing his long grey coat, and Mulder helped him.

"You came right from work, didn't you?" It wasn't a question, as it was obvious that he had.

"I had a lot to catch up on today," was the excuse.  "And I didn't want to be late." Walter wrapped his arms around Mulder as the younger man reached for his tie, loosening it, making Walter twitch when those elegant fingers brushed over his throat for just a fraction of a second.

Before either man could do anything else, the door buzzer rang, indicating their food had arrived.

"I'll get that," said Mulder, "Why don't you grab the wine.  It's in the fridge."

It should have been perfect, Walter thought. The wine was his favorite, the food, too. But where there was formerly relaxed talk between him and Mulder, now there were stilted words and awkward silences. Where there should have been smiles and hearty appetites, there were frowns, and longing looks, and more moving food around than eating it. Their disagreement this morning lay between them like a Krycek shaped wall, and neither man seemed able to move it.  Finally, when he thought he would choke if he had to try to force one more bite of food down, Walter tested the wall.

"You're not eating," he observed quietly.

"Neither are you!" Mulder shot back defensively, and with more anger in his voice than he meant.  He saw the slow look of hurt come over his lover's face, and he jumped up from his chair, knocking his cutlery to the floor and ignoring it in his haste to move across the room to stand behind Walter and put his arms around him tightly.

"Oh, shit, Walter, I'm sorry.  Sometimes I am such an ass."

"That makes two of us then," he replied, standing up to return the embrace. They stood silently for a long moment, chipping away at that invisible wall with simple physical contact. It seemed to be the first thing that had felt right between them all day.

He heard Mulder speaking, the words muffled but audible from where the younger man's face was pressed to his upper chest.

"I just wanted to make tonight nice, y'know.  It's been three weeks, and-"

"I hear you, Mulder." Walter tipped his lover's face up so that they were eye to eye. "And I understand.  About this morning, I mean.  I know you want to do something-to do this, for me.  To help-"

"Walter?"  Mulder's eyes were wide and miserable. "You know who it was."

"Yes, I do," he admitted reluctantly.

"Then why-"

"Fox, I'm tired.  What do you say we turn in early tonight?"  He searched Mulder's face anxiously, wanting to put this line of discussion to rest before it could become another argument.  He was willing to have disagreements at work-it came with the territory. But he didn't want work here-especially not this work, especially not now. And he would have lied to end the conversation, but the truth of the matter was it had been his first full day back at the office, and he was more tired than he liked to admit.

Mulder became concerned immediately, forgetting the argument they were almost having.

"Dammit, Walter, why didn't you say something?" He sounded more worried than angry.

"I think I just did." He gave him a weak smile, hoping for one in return.

"Go on, then.  I'll just clean up here, and-"

"No."

"No?" Mulder gave him a critical eye. It had to be serious if his lover was suggesting not cleaning up before bed, in light of his just slightly anal-retentive tendencies.  But Walter was still smiling a little as he reached down to take Mulder's hands in his own, entwining their fingers.

"Nothing on this table is going to start dancing in the middle of the night. It'll all be here tomorrow. Come on. I'll even let you watch MST3K."

Walter got his smile and a tightening of the hands locked with his own, and the breach was mended.

"Let me at least put the wine in the fridge."

"Bring it."

"Yes, sir!"

They drank the wine, laughed at the movie, and simply enjoyed being together again, at last.

Mulder reclined naked in Walter's arms, head resting on his chest, relishing the security of those strong arms around him and that muscular body supporting him.  He sipped his wine and concentrated on the movie, choosing to file away the verging-on-codependent relief he felt at having his lover whole and well and holding him for analyzing at a later date.

Walter hugged Mulder a little tighter and dropped a kiss on his hair, relishing the feel of his lover's body resting in his arms. It might be cliché to say that his death had made life more dear, but every cliché holds a grain of truth, and he knew that he wanted to live, more than ever, now, and that he wanted to do so with this man.

It was the reason he was ending the investigation into the poisoning. It was why he was refusing to let Mulder pursue the case. He was scared of losing this. Of losing Mulder.  Of having to live without feeling this way, with this man, ever again.  He finished his wine and set the glass on the nightstand, wishing there was some way to show Mulder how much he meant to him.

The credits rolled, and Mulder raised his now empty glass to the television. 

"Now that's entertainment!" he exclaimed.

Walter snorted laughter, then kissed the top of Mulder's head again, loving the silky texture of his hair and the feel of it against his lips.

Then he snatched the remote from Mulder's hand before he could turn off the television.

"Hey!"

"Let me…" Walter hit the mute button instead of the off button, set the remote and his glasses aside, and switched off the bedside lamp.  Blue television light cast interesting shadows across his lover's face and body as he took the empty wineglass from him.

"Mood lighting, Walter?" Mulder's voice held a teasing note.

"If you like," he replied, turning Mulder in his arms so that they were face to face.

"I like." Mulder punctuated his words with kisses.  "I like a lot." His arms snaked around Walter's neck. " A lot, a lot…" He nipped and licked and prodded at Walter's lips with his tongue, was granted entry, and stopped talking.

Walter allowed himself to be kissed deeply and thoroughly, letting his partner take the lead, enjoying the less active role more than he'd thought he would.  He ran his hands through Mulder's hair again and again, thinking he could never get enough of the textures of his lover; the silk of his hair, the moist heat of his mouth, the satin of his skin playing over lean muscle.  He reluctantly let up his grip on Mulder's hair when the younger man pulled his mouth away, and Walter was pleased to see flushed excitement in his face, knowing it matched his own. 

Mulder took up a wandering tour of Walter's chest with mouth and hands, pinching, biting, sucking, and finding all the right places to make Walter squirm and gasp and groan. After raising Walter's nipples to hard peaks, he continued moving down his body, tasting skin and hair and scars and muscle, utterly absorbed in the pursuit of his lover's pleasure. He licked around his belly and was so delighted with the involuntary giggle he got that he did it again, got the same result, and laughed a little too, cooling kiss-heated skin with his breath and turning Walter's laugh into a soft moan.

More than just Walter's navel was calling out for attention, but Mulder wasn't quite ready to stop his teasing. He tasted the inside of Walter's thighs, spent several minutes kissing his knees, getting more laughter, then licking his way back up to his stomach.

Walter wasn't about to beg, although he shifted his body encouragingly, hoping Mulder would get the point. But his lover seemed determined to drive him crazy tonight, moving around and around his erection, but never letting his mouth touch it. Finally, Walter took hold of Mulder's shoulders and dragged him up his body, pleased to feel an equally hard cock brush against his own. When they were face to face, Walter glared at him with mock seriousness.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he growled, but he was smiling, and so was Mulder.

The other man reached down and took him in his hand and Walter gasped at the first contact.

"Aren't you?" Mulder stroked him slowly, expertly. Walter could feel the rough drag of callus across the sensitive underside of his cock, and he thrust forward with a groan. 

"You seem to be doing all the work," he murmured when his own hands were batted away from his lover's body.

"I'll get my turn, I'm sure," the words were whispered into his ear, making him shiver. "For now, just lie back and relax and let me do this.  For you…"

Abruptly, Walter reached down and stilled Mulder's hand, wrapping his own larger fingers over his lover's. Mulder gave him a confused look, which melted into understanding when Walter reached ineffectually for the nightstand.  Mulder reluctantly took his hand  from Walter's and slid away so that he could get into the night table and retrieve a condom and the small bottle of lubricant from the top drawer.

He handed both to Walter, and leaned in next to him to nibble at his ear again and ask softly "How do you want me?"

"I want you." It wasn't an answer.  But Mulder didn't have to ask again. Walter pulled him back into his arms and on top of him, kissed his cheek with absolute tenderness, then held his gaze with eyes so dark with desire they were almost black, and deliberately spread his legs, so that Mulder was resting between them.

"Oh.  Oh, Walter…" He sounded uncertain, but his body responded with a flush and a furious rush of excitement. He felt Walter press the lube into his hand and some wordless sound escaped him. Walter kissed his other cheek, just as softly as the first, and hugged him tightly, running his hands up and down his back, then bringing them back up to cup his face.

"Fox…" There didn't seem to be anything else to say.

Mulder was nervous and excited and clumsy and awkward and Walter was more aroused than he'd ever been. Mulder had never looked more beautiful to him, and he kept up a litany of breathy affirmations as he felt his lover penetrating him with his fingers, slow and cautious, then quickening when he found the spot he wanted and Walter cried out his pleasure.  Mulder twisted his fingers again, and reached for Walter's cock with his other hand. Walter called out his name and bucked into his fist.

Mulder added another finger, and Walter groaned as he was stretched a little further. Mulder paused, waited until he heard more positive sounds from his lover, then turned his hand.  Walter thrust his hips back, trying to achieve more contact, and Mulder pulled slowly away from him.

With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and his body aching for release, Walter sat up just enough that he could reach his lover and roll the condom over his straining erection, thankful for the foresight he'd had to open the damned thing before Mulder's ministrations had taken most of his motor control from him.

Mulder groaned loudly as Walter's hands smoothed the latex over him, and groaned again when his lover lay back and lifted his legs, resting them on his shoulders.  Walter looked up at him with something akin to wonder, combined with hot need, and Mulder carefully moved forward.

Walter closed his eyes and hissed through clenched teeth at the sudden pain of entry.  His mind marveled for a moment at the feeling, realizing that Fox had been here, exactly here, for him countless times now, and he was glad to be able to offer himself in the same way, and he thought that he was maybe more in love with Mulder than he had thought he could be, and he groaned again at another sharp pain.  All movement stopped, and he opened his eyes to see Mulder gazing at him with a frightened expression on his face.  He hastened to allay his fears.

"S'alright, Fox," he gasped. "Just been a long time-"

"We don't-I-should I stop?"

Walter replied in the most eloquent terms he could think of. He shoved his hips forward, sheathing Mulder completely within his body.

Mulder groaned as he was enveloped, and grasped Walter's hips, more to still his own trembling, although Walter was shaking a little too;  whether it was from pain, desire or strain on muscles long unused, Mulder didn't know.

Walter looked up at his lover, whose gaze of stunned incredulity was rapidly giving way to something far more carnal.  His eyes were closing now, muscles tensing and flaring throughout his body, and he tipped his head back and whispered Walter's name.  The older man reached up and touched the rapid pulse in Mulder's neck.

"Now. Fox. Please."

Trance like at first, Mulder slid back, then forward, then back again, nearly pulling out, then slowly pushing back in, finding a familiar rhythm in this most unfamiliar situation.  Walter watched his lover intently, trying to pace himself to Mulder's movements, tensing and flexing muscles he'd forgotten he had, and being rewarded with inarticulate cries of pleasure.  He watched the man above him surrender to his desire, and knew he would never see anything so exciting, so beautiful, ever again.

Mulder pushed on, harder now, getting swept up in his own need, but not so much so that he didn't deliberately twist his movements upwards as well as forward, finding the spot he'd discovered earlier with his hand, and reveling in the cry of purest pleasure from his lover.  He found himself speeding up almost against his will, and at the last moment he opened his eyes and found Walter staring at him so intently that it was almost like additional physical stimulation, and he came with a shout, burying himself in Walter's body and quaking with the force of his orgasm.

Walter cried out when Mulder twisted inside him and found the center of his pleasure. The initial pain was a dim and fading memory, and he gave up his body to his lover's actions, focussing solely on pleasuring his young partner, and finding his own pleasure in that.  He kept his gaze intently on Mulder, and realized that his own orgasm was approaching without any physical stimulation to his cock whatsoever.  He redoubled his efforts, clutching at the bedsheets and shoving his hips up to take as much of his lover as he could. He let his legs slide off of Mulder's shoulders to wrap tightly around his waist just as Mulder thrust one last time into him and stayed there, coming with a shout that Walter heard in his heart as well as his ears. The sensation was exquisite and brought about his own orgasm nearly as loudly. All his senses spiraled into blackness…

When he came back to himself, he was resting in Mulder's arms, and his lover was wearing a scared expression on a sweaty face and calling his name softly.

"Walter? Oh, Jesus, Walter, are you okay?"

He didn't think he was quite ready for verbal communication just yet, so he tried a smile instead, and turned in the other man's arms. He felt a twinge in his backside and knew he'd be sitting on a hip for the next day or two, and didn't mind a bit.

"Did I-god, Walter, did I hurt you?"

The question immediately gave Walter a vision of an awful joke he'd heard once about a mouse and an elephant, and he started to laugh.  He tried to control it, but then he'd look into Mulder's confused, worried face, and it would start him snorting and giggling again, and he'd think 'did I hurt you dear?' and then he'd laugh some more. 

Mulder held him through what could only be termed hysterics of some sort, rocking him gently, and smiling a little even in the midst of his concern, just because Walter's laughter was something he could never hear enough of. 

Eventually, Walter swallowed the last of his laughing fit, but kept smiling and whispered, "Yes, Mulder, you did."

"Oh, hell, Walter, I-"

"But if you apologize, I'll have to shoot you."

Now Mulder was laughing, too, and kissing him, and he was kissing him back, and then he was slipping away, feeling warm and sleepy and well used, and not regretting anything.

Mulder held his sleeping lover for a long time, still rocking gently, kissing his forehead periodically, and murmuring so softly that even if Walter had been awake, he might not have heard the words.

"I love you, Walter."