"At night, when all the world's asleep, the questions run too deep, for such a simple man…"

Mulder awoke stiff, sore and with an achingly full bladder. It took a moment to process everything in his head into something approaching logic, but this was no cause for alarm. Every morning started this way for him, with his mind already racing before his body could catch up. So he did what he did everyday, and cautiously opened the filters of his mind to let the stream of consciousness trickle in:

*…no heat—did I forget to pay a bill?  Gotta pee.  Have to get up and—Scully! The baby! No, wait…they're fine, they're at home, and I'm—I'm—I'm paralyzed. Oh, hell, what was I—is this an alien thing? A post-hypnotic thing? A—have I been shot? Oh, god! Wait, what's that--*

Mulder opened his eyes with a gasp and discovered Walter Skinner draped over him like the world's sexiest wet sandbag. He found himself grinning even as he was still shaking off his mind's disturbing images and trying hard not to wet himself.

He gave Skinner a rough but affectionate push, which had no effect whatsoever. A second nudge, and Skinner's response was to shift himself around, still asleep, until even more of his weight was pressing down on Mulder, and his arms went round him tightly. He butted his head into Mulder's chest once, like a man adjusting a pillow under him, and went right on sleeping.

"Oof! Get off me," Mulder exclaimed, rather unkindly, but feeling unable to be pleasant in light of the fact that he was on the verge of making an even more unpleasant mess all over himself.

He shoved hard at the sleeping man on top of him, and Skinner grumbled something wholly unintelligible and finally rolled off of Mulder, who scooted out from under him and through the back of the truck.

He returned to the truck some moments later, relieved but a little confused to find himself awake just as dawn was approaching, having apparently spent the bulk of his sleeping time in the back of the truck with Skinner.

He had vague memories of watching rain with his lover, talking to the man, touching him…

Less vague was the memory of Walter's mouth on his, of his hands roaming over his body, of…

In the cab of the truck, with the rain pouring down and obscuring them from view as effectively as it obscured their vision, at some point they'd made love.  Oh, not in the technical tab A slot B way—they were both a little too old for the acrobatics involved in a full-fledged car trick—but in a slow, sweet way that had left them both satisfied.

He remembered Walter's voice, low and growly, whispering words of love and lust in his ear with an almost desperate urgency.  And he remembered saying them back.

He had absolutely no recollection of getting the back seat pulled down, or of moving from the front of the truck to the back.  He supposed Skinner had maneuvered the two of them back here, and he supposed that meant that he'd been more exhausted than he thought.

He wasn't tired anymore.

He climbed back into the truck bed and sat down close to Skinner, who still lay curled on his side and snoring softly.  He looked relaxed, disheveled and, to Mulder, incredibly sexy.

And there was so much more room in the back of the truck…

Skinner awoke stiff, not sore and with a lapful of Mulder. He discovered that he had been awakened by the feel of his pants and briefs being gently pulled down as Mulder took it upon himself to turn his morning hard-on into something with more carnal purpose. He groaned loudly as his cock was enveloped in wet warmth, and shifted his hips forward. With eyes still closed, he reached blindly for his lover and found thick soft hair to wrap his hands in.

Mulder took him without urgency, licking and sucking gently, and letting the big man's hands guide him in his ministrations. Soft moans and whispered affirmations greeted his actions. He continued on in this way until he could feel a sudden shift in  the body under him, a tightening of muscles and a clenching of fists tugging at his hair, wordlessly seeking completion. He redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with a loud groan as Skinner bucked his hips once, twice. And on the third thrust, Mulder swallowed Walter to the base and reveled in the taste of his orgasm as it boiled out of him and into his eager mouth.

More soft kisses and licks followed, until Skinner was trembling from overstimulation, then, with a last gentle kiss to the crown, Mulder slipped up his lover's body until they were face to face, and gave him a saucy grin and a peck on the cheek.

"Mornin'," he drawled as he settled into Skinner's arms.

"I could get used to that wake up call, you know." 

Mulder was absurdly pleased to hear Skinner still breathing hard. 

"Don't get too used to it, big guy," he warned. "Remember, turnabout's fair play."

In response, Skinner reached down to cup his groin with one big hand, but after one careful squeeze, Mulder pulled his hand away. Skinner looked surprised, then wounded, and Mulder kissed both expressions off of his face with a thoroughness that sent a new wave of arousal through Walter's body, and he wondered again for the hundredth, or thousandth, or millionth time, just how he had managed to live so long without this man in his life, in his bed, in his heart…

Mulder pulled away with a sigh, and Skinner gave him a questioning look.

"Don't get me wrong, Walter, car tricks definitely have a warm spot in my heart—" For some reason, Mulder blushed, and Skinner made a mental note to ask him about his past 'car tricks'. But later; Fox was still talking.

"And it's not you—I can see that look in your eyes—that I'm too old, too bald, too ugly face you make when you think I don't notice."

Skinner's guilty expression was there and gone in a heartbeat, as he quickly masked his recognition of the truth in Mulder's words, and the resentment at being caught. Sometimes life with a psychological profiler was not all it was cracked up to be.

"Too bald?" he asked archly, raising an eyebrow. Mulder laughed, as Skinner had intended, then sobered, but couldn't completely hide a smile. It barely quirked his lips up, but his eyes twinkled merrily, and Skinner couldn't help but return it.

"You know what I mean, Walter. Being deliberately obtuse is my job, remember?"

"I thought that was just a hobby."

"Smart ass. The point is, Walter, that it's not always about getting off. Don't misunderstand me, it is definitely a perk that I don't intend to give up.  But this morning was just my way of saying hey, good morning, I'm glad to be here with you." Mulder kissed him for emphasis. "I don't expect payback, and I hope you realize that." His tone had turned serious, and Skinner bit back the "payback's a bitch" comment that wanted to come out of him, choosing instead to take Mulder's face in his hands, give him a level look and softly whisper, "thank you."

It was a tender and serious moment between men for whom tender was almost a non entity and serious was a constant, but the combination worked for them on every level. And then Mulder jerked away from Skinner and said,

"I am way too wired for this. Let's get outta here, and find a place where we can spend the day that's not a gas station, a rest stop, or the cab of this damned truck."

"Sounds good to me."