Chapter 13: Fast as I can

“I’m telling you, Walter, next time, I don’t care who cums first, you’re making the coffee! Bad enough for Scully to hear us, but do you realize that John Doggett is in our kitchen right now? If there was a list of people who I never want in the same house as me when I’m having an orgasm, he’d be at least—uh…Walter?”

He was ranting to an empty room.

“Walter? Walt?” He entertained the notion of looking under the bed just long enough to feel foolish, and then he got scared.

“Shit!” he set the coffee cups down on the dresser, looking around the room in a controlled panic; scanning in a method learned at too many crime scenes, he saw that the window was still closed, the curtains still drawn. The bedclothes were pushed back, but no signs of struggle aside from the one the two of them had participated willingly in. His clothes were strewn all over the floor, and Walter’s clothes were—

--all the clothes on the floor were his.

He moved quickly to the window and pushed back the curtains.

Walter Skinner was standing at the edge of the woods in back of the house. The yard they had cleared back there wasn’t huge, but he was still a fair distance away. His back was to the house, and his hands were shoved into the back pockets of his jeans. He didn’t appear to be under duress; Mulder couldn’t see anyone pointing guns, or palm pilots for that matter.

Still, it was odd.

Mulder realized that somewhere between him coming back from the kitchen and Scully coming out of the bathroom, there would have been time for Skinner to move through the house unnoticed.

It didn’t take long for Mulder to pull on jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, retrieve the rapidly cooling cups of coffee from the dresser and slip his shoes on.

He had just a glimpse of Scully’s back as she entered the kitchen, and then he was out the front door, down the steps and crunching along the gravel footpath that led to the back of the house.

Skinner hadn’t moved.

Mulder didn’t say anything, but he knew by the shift in Skinner’s posture that the older man had heard him approach.

He stood a step behind and to one side of Skinner and held out one of the cups in mute offering.

Their fingers brushed as Skinner took the proffered mug.

“Thank you, Fox,” he said quietly, then returned to his contemplation of the trees.

Mulder followed suit and wondered what his lover was seeing; what he was thinking.

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence for a while, and when Mulder’s cup was empty, he set it on the ground and put an arm around his lover’s waist.

“Do you remember that conversation we had once about pet names?” Skinner said finally, his voice low and sad.

Mulder smiled. “Pretty hard to forget, Walter.” He tightened his grip on the other man.

“Not really,” Skinner muttered. He turned to look at Mulder then, and anger and fear were warring in his eyes. “Apparently it’s very easy to forget.”

Suddenly his coffee cup was falling to the ground and his arms were around Mulder in a fierce embrace.

‘This morning,” his voice was low and muffled against the side of Mulder’s neck, his breath warm and shiver inducing. “Before we—when we—this morning, I thought there was something I—I don’t know, I couldn’t remember, and it nagged at me.”

Hey it’s no big deal, Walter,” Mulder replied, trying to soothe with words and stroking hands, even as his own fears rose to the surface.

“It is, though, Fox. I had half a memory of calling you something—something not Mulder—something that was—that meant something—and then it was gone.” Skinner pulled back so they were face-to-face, shook his head sadly and swiped at his eyes. “So, I guess I came out here to see if I could remember.”

“All that good mountain air, huh?” Mulder’s light tone contrasted sharply with the way his hands found Skinner’s and clutched greedily at them.

“Something like that,” Skinner agreed with a wan smile.

“Did you know John Doggett is in our kitchen?” Mulder suddenly changed the subject and bent to retrieve their coffee cups. He pretended not to notice the extra few seconds it took for Skinner to process this bit of information, and when Skinner smiled, he smiled back.

“Doggett? That’s terrific. Scully will be thrilled. But—“ He had let Mulder take a hand and start leading them back to the house; now he stopped and gave his lover a sharp look. “Do you think he has something?”

“I think between my personal genius, and Scully’s ‘homme du jour’, you’re going to be out-thinking me for a long time to come, Walter.” Mulder’s voice was firm and optimistic and Skinner couldn’t resist pulling him close for a quick kiss before resuming their trek back through the yard.

An unexpected gust of wind played with Mulder’s hair, and he shook his head, trying to get the errant forelock out of his eyes without relinquishing his hold on either Skinner or the coffee cups.

Skinner stopped them again, and raised his free hand to brush tenderly at the stray bangs. He ran his hand through the dark hair a second time, then cupped Mulder’s chin and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. When he stepped forward again, Mulder held him back, saying “I know I’m going to regret this, but…”

Skinner gave him a quizzical look, which Mulder responded to with a smile and another kiss, this one full on the mouth and much harder. A second later, though, he had to pull back with a pained mewling sound as the cut on his swollen mouth reopened.

“Well,” he said, shrugging off Skinner’s worried look, “So much for my dramatic moment.” Instead, he nuzzled his unhurt cheek against Skinner’s and whispered, “Puppy.”

Skinner gave him a confused frown, repeated the word stupidly, and then Mulder saw dawning recognition light up his eyes.

“Puppy? Puppy!” His grin was infectious, and Mulder couldn’t resist it, even as he complained.

“I should have told you it was ‘Master’, or ‘Super Stud’ or—“

“Bad puppy!” Skinner exclaimed, laughing. He held Mulder tight and kissed the tip of his nose. An awkward attempt to spin them both around resulted in Mulder stumbling, Skinner tripping and both of them falling on the grass beside the path. Mulder grunted as the air was forced out of him.

“Uh! Jeez, nice moves, Twinkletoes!” he exclaimed.

Skinner just laughed at him and kissed him again, and Mulder discovered that his mouth wasn’t so sore after all. He rolled Skinner onto his back and straddled his body.

“Okay, so the name was a give away—but you better remember the rules, Walter,” he tried to look stern and smiled at the same time and it didn’t work.

“Puppy.” Skinner was still laughing, like a dam had burst and all his relief was flooding out of him.

Mulder felt the same sort of relief, but another part of him was already worrying about what Skinner might forget next.

“You’re going to have some pretty interesting grass stains, puppy,” Skinner told him as he attempted to roll out from under Mulder, “What do you suppose Doggett and Scully will think of that?”

“They’ll think I got lucky,” Mulder replied easily. Skinner opened his mouth to make some comment and Mulder quickly covered it with his hand.

“If you say ‘lucky puppy’, Walter, I will have to hurt you.” He could feel Skinner’s smile under his fingertips, feel warm breath tickling his palm, and he wanted nothing more than to freeze time; to just be allowed to have this moment. Not to move forward from it, into something more perilous and unknown. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing this—this moment, this feeling.

He wouldn’t lose it.

He rolled off Skinner to lie next to him on the grass, and Skinner turned on his side and ran a hand over his chest and stomach.

“I am lucky,” Mulder murmured.

“I’m lucky,” Skinner corrected.

“Well sure, Walt, that’s just a given. I mean, I am, after all, me!”

Then Mulder erupted in completely un-butch giggles and tried to roll away as Skinner dug his fingers into the man’s ribs and began tickling him mercilessly. Mulder squirmed and got to his knees and Skinner tackled him and they wrestled through the tall grass, laughing and cursing and kissing and rolling.

***

“What kind of behavior is that for a coupla grown men?” Doggett shook his head as he watched Skinner and Mulder wrestling in the back yard.

Scully could hear the smile in his voice.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love to be out there with them, John Doggett!” she replied, coming up behind him and putting her arms around his waist. Standing up on tiptoe, she was just able to peer over his shoulder and look out at her friends outside.

“That depends,” said Doggett.

“On?” Her tone held a teasing lilt. Doggett turned in her arms and kissed the top of her head.

“On how involved you would be in the unofficial X-Files Wrestling Championship.” He moved the kiss to her mouth and stroked his hands possessively over her waist and hips. “You can pin me any day, lady.”

Scully laughed and kissed him back.

***

end 13/19