Mulder sat at the table at Starbucks, scanning the newspaper and sipping his coffee. He was oblivious to his surroundings, his thoughts focused only on the coming weekend and the plans he and Walter had made. 

Lately it surprised him to realize that the overt domesticity of the situation no longer frightened him. Long, lazy weekends doing nothing but making love and watching television and talking had segued into more frequent overnights during the week. Slowly, unnoticed until it was too late to take it back, he had taken over territory in Walter’s home. A toothbrush, a razor, a suit and a couple of shirts in the closet. A down 
pillow on the bed and his favorite beer in the fridge. Small things, drops in a bucket in and of themselves, but together they amounted to an all encompassing wave that Mulder knew would eventually pull him in, an undertow from which he could not escape. The siren song of comfort, safety and peace to which even he was not immune.  

He felt the movement next to him more than he saw it. His body was still so attuned to the one that slid into the chair across from him that Mulder felt the movement as a caress. He didn’t look up. After all this time, he didn’t have the courage to face those clear green eyes, to offer himself up with a futile “Why?” once again, knowing the only answer would be, “Because.”

“What do you want now, Alex?” he asked tiredly. “Do you have some more useless and obscure information to feed me? Are you bored and in the mood to send me on another wild goose chase?” 

He still didn’t look up. He could feel Alex Krycek shift in his seat, heard him clear his throat. He shook his head, willing the memories away. Memories of a young man who did not really exist. Memories of soft lips and a sweet, supple body that belonged to a murderer, not the rookie agent he thought he had known. Thought he might have loved. 

“I want to talk to you, Mulder. Nothing more. How are you?” Krycek sipped his drink, looking intently at the top of the man’s head until Mulder finally met his gaze. The connection was still there, as painful and real as electrocution. As vital to Alex as air.  

Mulder snorted, and refused to acknowledge the flush creeping through his body. Alex’s voice pulsed through his veins, warm honeyed mead laced with arsenic. Surely this was not the same voice that had cried his name so sweetly in the middle of the night…

Alex dropped a manila envelope on the table between them. 

“Fine, Mulder, you don’t have to talk. Just…have the gunmen sweep your apartment more often, alright? You never know who might be listening.”

Mulder picked up the envelope and carefully felt the shape of the cassette tape inside. “Dare I ask?”

Alex sighed and unfolded himself from the chair. “Are you happy with him, Mulder? That’s all I want to know.”

“Yes. I really am,” Mulder replied, feeling the truth of the words blossom warm and full in his chest. As much as it scared him, as much as he wanted to run away to the haven of his dark, lonely apartment and his dark, lonely life, he knew now that he would not. Walt wanted him to move in, and that idea scared him far less than the idea of being alone again. 

Alex stood expectantly, waiting for Mulder to speak again. He sensed the peace that had washed over Mulder. He really was happy with Skinner. Not that he cared; certainly he did not. But if Mulder was really happy, he was glad. It made his job easier if Mulder weren’t such a danger to himself anymore. He reached out and squeezed Mulder’s shoulder; felt the other man flinch from the touch. 

“Goodbye,” he said softly, the squared his shoulders and walked out. He’d seen that look on Mulder’s face before. The sated, satisfied look that spoke of peace and security. He’d still be around when Mulder was hungry and restless again. 

//////////////////////////////////

Mulder rushed in, barely glancing at Walter, and ran up the stairs. Walter could tell it was his lover since the nose was a dead giveaway, but the rest of him was a blur.  He knew from prior experience that it was nearly impossible to figure out what the problem was until Mulder was ready to tell him, so he began preparing dinner.  He cooked practically every day, now that he had sometime else to cook for and because he 
refused to allow his lover to eat fast food in the apartment. 
Surprisingly, Mulder rarely complained. 

After eating, washing the dishes and putting away left over food, he decided it was time to approach Mulder. He went upstairs tentatively, unsure of his lover’s reaction.  Mulder was face down on the pillows and he moved closer to the bed, reaching down to run his fingers through the thick brown hair.  Mulder flinched, then turned toward him. At the sight of the wet eyes and almost pleading look on his lover’s face, Walter 
bent and kissed him, softly at first, then more deeply. He knew his lover needed to feel wanted, loved, and above all, safe.

Mulder pulled away and sighed, “Thank you, Walter, for loving me, for putting up with my quirky behaviors. But I think I still need a little more time alone before I’m ready to talk about it.”

Walter nodded and left the room, willing to wait until his lover was ready to discuss what was troubling him.

////////////////

After Walter left the room, Mulder once again mentally reviewed the words captured on the tape Alex gave him. He didn’t remember the one-sided conversation, since he’d apparently been asleep, but he remembered the night it must have happened because they seldom stayed at his apartment.  Par for their lives, they’d walked into the middle of a liquor store hold up and a fight.  Though neither of them was hurt, the subsequent adrenaline rush that surged through them drove them to Mulder’s closer apartment, tearing at each other’s clothes before they were all the way in the door.  After their first fear-tinged, almost violent coupling, they’d later made love slowly and gently.  

Walter was a little quieter than usual for the next few days, then he’d asked Mulder to consider moving in with him.  They spent most nights together anyway, he’d explained reasonably, so it made sense.  Mulder had casually agreed to think about it, though his heart had lurched in a combination of terror and excitement.  

Now, thinking of Walter’s murmured words of love and insecurity, uttered while Mulder slept, he saw how much courage it must have taken for the other man to ask him to move in when he was almost certain of a negative response.  He was deeply ashamed to realize that Alex Krycek knew 
more fully expected how he felt than Walter did, and resolved to give him an answer tonight. 

///////////////

Walter Skinner lay in bed, pretending to sleep. He listened to the sounds around him; the quiet heartbeat of the ticking alarm clock, the womb-like sounds of the rain outside, the rhythmic drumming of Mulder’s long, slender fingers against his ribcage. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly. 

Mulder tensed beside him, ceased his fidgety movements and sucked in a breath. For a sinking moment Walter thought Mulder had retreated behind the old walls. If he pressed too much, Mulder would get dressed and leave. If he let it lie between them, it would fester into resentment. 

Finally, Mulder let out the breath he was holding. “I saw Krycek today. He had an audio tape. My apartment is under surveillance.” 

“Damn,” Skinner replied without heat. They’d both know the risks, and chose to play roulette despite them. “Why did he tell you about it? What did he want?”

“He gave me the tape, Walt. I think…I think he’s glad that I’m happy.” Mulder’s voice was husky with sleep. 

“Are you happy, Fox?” Skinner asked. He knew the superficial answers to that question. He knew that lately Mulder smiled more often, that he slept better at night. He knew how enthusiastic Mulder was in bed, how giving a lover he could be. But was that enough? Did he still need to push Mulder to commit to something he wasn’t ready for?

Mulder rolled to his side and propped up on one elbow, looking down at Skinner. His fingertips reverently traced the planes and angles of the older man’s face, down his neck, stopped to explore the hollows of his collarbones. Walter sighed and relaxed into the touch, shifting slightly to maximize their contact. 

Sweet golden-rich arousal pooled in Mulder’s body, radiating from the base of his spine to tease its way up his vertebrae, to pool between his legs. He leaned down and kissed Walter softly, a feathery brush of lips against lips, chaste and innocent and utterly arousing to Mulder. 

“I’m happy. I’m very happy. I think I could get used to this…living here with you…building a life. I’d like to get used to it, if the offer still stands.”

“What brought this on? Does this have something to do with you seeing Krycek today?”

“Yes and no. I realized something today. A few months ago, seeing Alex would have screwed me up so badly that I would have rushed to the closest bar. But today…it didn’t bother me. At least not enough to ruin our weekend. I realized that I look forward to being with you more than anything else in my life. I want to be with you.”

A slow smile warmed Walter’s face.  He pulled Mulder down to kiss him, murmuring against his lips, “What took you so long?”