We Need A Little Christmas
 

1. A Winter's Tale

"Tell me again why I'm sitting here at the kitchen table drinking coffee-"Mulder began irritably.

"I slaved over a hot coffee maker for minutes for you," Krycek interrupted with a grin.

"Why I'm sitting here drinking *flavorful* coffee with you at the crack of dawn-"

"It's not that early!"

"-at *half past dawn*, when I could still be asleep-"

"When do you ever sleep in?"

"I could still be *in bed*, getting-"

"Giving me-"

"A great wake-up blow job!" They finished in unison. Mulder tried to hang onto his surly expression and failed utterly in the wake of Krycek's smile.

Krycek refilled Mulder's cup and dropped a kiss onto his hair.

"Because you love me?"

Mulder seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Nope, that's no excuse. Loving you at noon is just as convenient." He smiled quickly, and then worked on recovering his serious expression; Krycek suspected there was more posturing than any real anger on his lover's part.

"Because I love you?" he ventured.

"Definitely not," Mulder replied quickly. "If that were the case, I'm pretty sure we'd still be in bed."

Krycek ruffled Mulder's hair, squeezed his neck briefly with the same real hand, and felt his lover shiver under the touch.

"I do, you know," he said quietly. A pause, then: "Great head, notwithstanding."

Another flash of smile, and Krycek wished he could convince Mulder that he didn't have to hide those rare moments of happiness. But a lifetime of defense mechanisms, ones that Krycek was only now starting to understand, simply weren't going to make Mulder someone who could open up and be happy overnight. Not even for all the great wake up blow jobs in the world.

"I know," Mulder said, then teased Krycek by adding, "Me too." He tipped his head back and Krycek leaned in for a kiss, tasting coffee and toothpaste; not the most appetizing combination in the world, but somehow Mulder made it work.

Serious moment passed without incident, neither man having to show more vulnerability than he was prepared for, Mulder sat back up and said, "So, I'll ask again; why-"

"Because I have to leave now or I'll miss the meet."

"That makes sense." Mulder sipped coffee, and then stood with a yawn and a stretch that Krycek couldn't fail to appreciate. His appreciation grew when strong arms came around him and Mulder hugged him tightly, ducking his head and nuzzling his neck, mouthing the skin just above the tight black t-shirt's collar. "Very rational," he murmured, breath warm on bare skin. "My logical man." A couple of strategic kisses and a soft bite and Krycek groaned and let himself do some exploring across Mulder's bare chest and stomach, smoothing the sleek muscles sheathing his ribs before tracing a path around his waist to his back and down until his hands were resting easily on Mulder's plaid-flannel covered ass.

They shared a handful of kisses and smiles and Mulder arched a brow, reminding Krycek of Scully at her most skeptical; he wondered if Mulder was even aware he was doing it.

"Covert Ops? You sure?" As he spoke, he pressed his half-hard cock to Krycek's causing the other man to groan again and pull him closer.

A frustrated sigh and Krycek reluctantly disengaged himself. Smiling at Mulder's pout, he handed him his rapidly cooling coffee and said, "I'm sure. Soonest started, soonest done."

Mulder barely managed not to spill his coffee when Krycek suddenly lunged at him, pressing a fierce kiss to his mouth, swallowing the ensuing gasp and replacing it with one of his own.

Just as Mulder knew the coffee cup was going to fall from his hand, Krycek pulled away with a swipe of tongue over a swollen lower lip.

"Work to do," he teased, walking away and leaving Mulder panting and dribbling coffee onto his bare feet.

2. Do they know it's Christmas?

Krycek ducked behind two large wooden crates, narrowly missing a volley of gunshots that would have taken off his head. He grinned maniacally at nothing except maybe his own machismo and twisted the cap on his head so the bill was to the back. Checking the clip on his own high caliber weapon and taking a deep breath, he stuck his head out around the corner of the first crate.

And pulled back like a turtle in its shell a moment later at a second round of gunfire. Then, using what his eyes had told him in that split second he'd been able to look out into the warehouse, he simply put his arm out, gun first, and gently squeezed the trigger with a finesse he usually reserved for his lover's balls.

Two shots, a shout and a groan.

Krycek waited a minute, then two, feeling nervous sweat break out across his brow and above his upper lip. Then he repeated the motion, with much the same results, except the scream this time was about half an octave higher.

Again, he gave his assailants the better part of two minutes to die or reload before cautiously stepping around the side of the crate, gun held at the ready. He pretended there wasn't some part of him doing an inner dance of glee at being able to hold his gun with two hands, both of them warm and strong.

Two gunmen, although with the semi-automatic weapons they had been using, it had seemed like a herd of them. One was making a high pitched whimpering noise and clutching alternately at his stomach or his knee, both bleeding profusely through his torn white shirt and blue jeans. The other one wasn't moving at all, except for an occasional twitch and shudder, which Krycek knew from lots of experience, would carry on for several minutes after death. Like a chicken with its head cut off, he thought.

Another grim smile, not just for himself this time, but for all the people this band of merry researchers would not be messing with this year; people that they wouldn't be hurting anymore. A sentimental thought, maybe, but true. Krycek had to admit that life with Mulder had, if not mellowed him, at least turned him into something far more human than the 'screw everybody else my shit's more important' rat bastard that had been pulled from a silo in North Dakota a lifetime ago.

Of course, his ego hadn't been tamed one bit-Mulder claimed to like that part of him, so it got to stay. This meant he couldn't help crowing just a little, even if that crowing was less of the abrasive rooster variety and more like a whisper, seasoned with whiskey and poured over silk and sandpaper.

"If I was any better, I'd have to charge for it."

A flash of light, a roar, and Krycek just had time to think "wha-fuck?" when the crates blew up behind him.

Mulder held the door open for the woman who was walking into the building at the same time and earned a grateful if harried smile for his actions. Her arms were full of boxes and bags and she looked about to tip over at any moment. Mulder knew the feeling, if not the reason behind it. While he was not overburdened with the capitalistic baggage of his fellow traveler, he was completely worn out and coming to the end of his metaphorical rope.

How hard could it be to find one simple present for one simple Russian with a taste for leather and vodka?

This was it. If the perfect gift didn't present itself in this small jewelry store after four malls and two outlet stores (Mulder remembered Scully threatening to take hostages after one of her own adventures in consumerism, and he was feeling more sympathetic now), then the only recourse left to him would be wrapping a bow around his dick and calling it good.

That didn't sound half-bad, whether he found anything else or not...

The woman he'd helped had dumped her packages onto the counter immediately and loudly engaged one of two sales clerks in a lively discussion over a case full of watches. Mulder thought about that briefly, but then dismissed it as a fanciful notion; even if Alex was the Rolex type, any timepiece he bought for his lover would have to be more shockproof than anything this jewelry store had to offer.

He let himself worry for one bright awful moment, knowing without being told that Alex had gone back to that lab-the one that he thought had been taken care of. The one that had housed the science that had given him back his amputated limb.

After all, he had been the one to find the latest information about amputees-three of them so far, whose bodies had been mutilated and dumped out in the countryside, looking like clichéd alien abductees. Mulder had been intrigued.

Krycek had known better.

Some heated words had been exchanged. Words that stemmed not from anger, but from both men's fears of losing the other. And in the end, Krycek knew that he had to be the one to clean up the job he thought he'd finished a two-armed year ago, and Mulder knew that Alex would go with or without his consent.

The makeup sex had been exquisite in its combination of love and pain.

The woman's voice got louder. Mulder filtered it out, noticed a man in a pinstriped suit enter the store and walk over to the watch case as well, and then dismissed both people as a case of simple silver pendants caught his eye.

He expected that nothing here would really capture everything he felt for Alex, but he was willing to try; learning optimism with every day that he and his lover were together. He expected Alex would be fine and waiting at home for him when he got home tonight; forced optimism this time as he imagined his lover's skills coming up against the dark forces he knew far too well.

What he didn't expect was for the woman in the shop to suddenly throw her shopping bag at the store clerk assisting her. Equally unexpected was the very large gun the man in the suit pulled from beneath his jacket.

And most unexpected of all was getting shot even before he could raise his arms in surrender, figure out a profile for this sudden madness or even take one step forward in some grand heroic way.

At least he didn't have to shop anymore, he thought before everything went black...

3. All I Want For Christmas Is You

Mulder quietly let himself into the apartment he shared with Alex Krycek and kicked his shoes off with a barely stifled groan. It wasn't so much the gunshot wound, which was not life-threatening, almost a graze, really. Some basic first aid and a shot of painkiller from the paramedics and while he didn't think he'd be playing tennis anytime soon, it was at least a manageable pain. No, the real issue was the railroad spike that someone had driven into the back of his skull while he wasn't looking, and even the aspirins he'd dumped on top of the emergency pain medication weren't making it better.

The store clerk had already pressed the silent alarm when the gunman had shot at Mulder. So by the time the bullet had caught him high in the shoulder and spun him around, the police had already been alerted. And by the time he staggered from the shot and fell back, knocking his head into the plate glass display of charms behind him, an undercover unit that had been investigating the office next door was already outside. And, finally, by the time he hit the floor, the last vision he had was of scuffed men's dress shoes as the cavalry arrived.

He had woken up an unknown time later, still on the floor, with an EMT by his side and glass in his hair.

Now, hours later, his shoulder wound was dressed, the cut on his forehead had been cleaned, as had the slice across his jaw, the swelling on the back of his head from where he'd knocked himself unconscious on the floor was starting to go down...

And best of all, Alex's black leather boots were sitting by the door.

"Maybe there really is a Santa Claus," he muttered, feeling thick and stupid. Carefully he eased his jacket off, wincing at the pull of stitches in his shoulder. But he supposed it could be worse. "I could have no arm at all," he mused, and that brought a ghost of a smile to his face as his thoughts became decidedly more Krycek-shaped.

Still awkward, he tried to hang the coat on the eight ball hook of his coat rack and managed to miss it entirely. After a quick internal debate over whether to leave the coat crumpled on the floor (which he lost) he stretched with a groan, scooped it up, and something fell out of one of the pockets with a metallic sound.

His head hurt even more as he bent down again to pick up whatever it was. When the small silver pendant was lying in the palm of his hand, he couldn't help but laugh, although it sounded a bit shaky, even to himself. It was a Chinese Zodiac symbol, one that he knew he recognized, from somewhere. "And I didn't even have to wait in line," he thought. Turning the charm over in his hand a couple of times, he pushed past the headache to his eidetic memory, searching for this particular symbol. And then he had to laugh again.

"If coincidences are just coincidences," he said to God, to his lover, to himself. "Then why do they feel so contrived?"

He locked the door, shut out the front foyer light and found the bedroom through the dark by a sheer act of will; the pendant was clutched tightly in his hand.

Alex Krycek felt the bed dip next to him, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Since both of those would require some type of effort on his part, he opted for answer C, none of the above.

He'd been thrown clear of the warehouse by the force of the blast. In fact, even now, his ears were still humming, although the ringing and high pitched squeals of earlier were gone, so he supposed his full hearing would come back in time. Not like he hadn't been on top of more than one explosion in his short odd career. Something a little bit different about this one, though.

He'd never wanted to survive one quite as badly as this. And he suspected the reason for that new survival instinct was what had caused the dip in the mattress. Again, his mind warned him that he was far too exhausted and sore to consider such a grueling task as opening his eyes, and for just one moment, his mind was right.

He heard Mulder gasp, then mutter "Alex? Oh hell..." The scared tone forced his eyes open in a way his own desire hadn't been able to. In the glow of the small bedside lamp, Mulder's face looked pale and his pupils were large and almost black. A jagged scratch stood out in blood-red on his cheek, and a smaller cut was taped together with two little bandages above his right eye. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand clenched in a fist on his leg, the other stretched out towards Krycek.

He tried to smile, and again it felt like too much work. But he didn't like the look in his lover's eyes. So he forced a tired grin and muttered "Hey."

Mulder felt tears prick the inside of his eyelids. "Hey" And he smiled back.

Krycek had managed to lose his baseball cap, most of his jacket and half of his black t-shirt in the blast. The rest of the shirt was now wadded up on the floor and he had pressed a gauze pad onto the burned spot on his back. His socks were gone as well, somewhere under the bed, but he'd only managed to slip off his belt and undo the top two buttons of his jeans--just enough to allow him to take deep breaths-before falling into a shallow half-sleep while he waited for Mulder.

As he watched, Mulder's gaze left his face and travelled down his chest and stomach, and then he was looking into his eyes again, frowning. "Jeez, Alex, what the hell--?"

Krycek shrugged and felt the movement reverberate through every bruise on his battered torso. "Mission accomplished," he said, his grin turning from soft to mean somehow. Mulder shivered at the sight of that hard smile, remembering seeing it aimed his way not all that long ago. But not now. Now...

"Do you need to go to-to the hospital?" Mulder was appalled at the number of bruises on the man. Krycek looked like someone had worked him over with a baseball bat. He was startled to find himself reaching towards his lover, his hand hovering indecisively over a bruise on Krycek's chest that was puffy and saucer shaped like a UFO.

Krycek saw that moment when Mulder decided that he was too fragile to touch. So even as he was pulling his hand back, Alex reached out, snake-strike quick, and caught him by the wrist. He forced Mulder's hand to complete its journey, pressed firmly over his heart. He couldn't stop the hiss of pain escaping between lips pressed tight together, but when Mulder tried to pull away again, he held on tight.

"It's nothing," he assured the other man. Mulder gave him that patented Scully brow again and Krycek tried to deflect him. "What about you?" he demanded. "You look like ten miles of bad road, Mulder."

"Mission accomplished?" Mulder suggested, his tone more teasing, less tearful.

"I had a mission. You had a shopping trip. There's a difference." Krycek sighed and brought Mulder's hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles lightly. "What happened?" he demanded, words muffled by the back of Mulder's hand.

"Jewelry heist. Right place, wrong time."

"Ah. C-4 explosives. Right place, really wrong time."

"Okay, you win," Mulder conceded. He gave Krycek another worried once-over. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I will be, once you lose the suit and get that gorgeous ass in bed with me."

"You think my ass is gorgeous?" Mulder peered around, trying to check out the gorgeous ass in question, even as he palmed the pendant he was still holding and started unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie. When he discovered that he lacked the dexterity for all that multi-tasking, not to mention the ache in his back when he twisted around like that, he paused and opened his hand, looking down at the pendant like he'd never seen it before.

"What is it?" asked Krycek, holding out his hand.

"Uh...Ya tebyA lyublyU," Mulder replied-'I love you' in Russian. And then he suddenly dropped the treasure into the hand-the real hand, Mulder reminded himself-and then concentrated on his clothes, suddenly feeling stupid about his sentimentality and sure that Krycek was going to mock the cheesy gift.

The shirt and tie were off, the pants unbuttoned and half-way down Mulder's long legs and there had been no comment from the man on the bed. Mulder risked a look up and saw that Krycek was holding the pendant up in that wonderful good hand, and the low lamplight was making it sparkle.

"It's Chinese," he said, his voice low and secretive. "What does it mean?"

Mulder finished undressing until he was standing in just his boxer briefs. He still didn't answer, and Alex gazed at him expectantly.

Instead of telling his lover what the pendant meant, or simply crawling into bed next to him, Mulder knee-walked across the bed, finished unbuttoning Krycek's jeans, and finally spoke as he slid the pants carefully down legs just as bruised as the rest of Alex's body. "It means I love you." He placed a small kiss on Krycek's bare knee as it was revealed. "It means I have always loved you." Another kiss on the other knee, and then he was sweeping the pants over ankles and feet and Krycek shivered. He wasn't wearing anything under the pants.

"And it means that I will always love you." With just as much gentle care, Mulder pulled the covers out from under his lover, then stretched out beside him and covered them both.

Alex turned to face him, and Mulder kissed him on the nose.

"It's the rat, isn't it?" Krycek managed to grin and somehow look a little hurt at the same time.

"Well..."

Before Mulder could feel stupid, or ashamed, Krycek kissed him softly, no more than a brief meeting of lips, and told him "I love it. I love you."

"Oh, and I didn't pay for it," Mulder added.

"I think I love it more," replied Krycek. Mulder rolled onto his side, fitting himself almost perfectly next to Alex without actually touching any part of him.

"I planned this a little differently. Or at least a little sweatier," Mulder admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly. Not only is it a perfect gift, but you also managed to find the only three places on my body that I'm pretty sure aren't bruised."

Mulder stretched his legs and let his toes rub delicately over the arch of Krycek's foot.

"Okay, four."

Mulder grinned at that, stroked his foot again and Alex held the pendant up once more, letting its sparkle engage them both for a moment. Then he took Mulder's hand, kissed the palm, and dropped the bit of silver into it.

"I'll get a chain for it tomorrow," he told him, and Mulder turned away to set it in a small dish on the nightstand. When he rolled back, Krycek met him mouth first, and this time there was a bit more to it as Krycek licked his way into Mulder's mouth and wrapped his tongue delicately around his lover's. The soft kiss grew in animation, but was abruptly ended when Krycek put a hand in Mulder's hair and Mulder jerked away with a pained groan.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Me too. Sorry we didn't do our errands before Christmas eve. I had plans too." Krycek smiled and told Mulder a million dirty things with his eyes. Then he took a deep breath and stretched out his arm so that he could put it around his lover. He made no sound of complaint, but Mulder could see his bright green eyes grow dull with pain for just a moment, and he tried not to lean into the embrace, as badly as he wanted to.

Krycek was having none of it. "Oh, no. The day I'm that rough that I can't hold you---well, that day is never going to come." When he could still feel Mulder trying to ease his weight off of him, he tugged him in closer. "Listen to me. This is exactly where I need you to be. Where I need to be."

Mulder relaxed and let his feet wander again. Krycek sighed.

"Okay, so we've learned some things today, haven't we?" The tease was back in his voice, and as long as neither one of them moved, the pain was tolerable. Better than that, with the heat of Mulder's body lying alongside his easing the tension from his overtaxed muscles.

"Enlighten me," Mulder whispered, kissing him on the ear.

"C-4 and jewelry robbers are not good Christmas traditions."

"Agreed."

"You're so easy." Krycek got another soft kiss for that, this time on the tiny bit of unbruised skin between his neck and shoulder.

"And you may have discovered that trauma from a gunshot can be rough on the libido, but it's nothing compared to having a warehouse fall on you. I think we have to change the term to 'black and blue balls'."

Mulder snorted laughter at that, and Krycek shivered at the feel of his warm breath on his neck.

"And finally, as you so clearly pointed out this morning, before it all went to shit, half past dawn is just about the perfect time for a spectacular blowjob."

Another laugh from Mulder, this one sounding a little jagged. Alex waited until the tired giggles dried up, just watching Mulder, until they were looking at each other, losing themselves in each other's half-closed eyes.

"So, who votes for a nap?"

Mulder just kept looking at him, eyes warm with emotion, more than he could put into words.

"The 'eyes' have it."

They exchanged one more long kiss, slow and sleepy.

"I'll see you at dawn," murmured Krycek.

"Half past," replied Mulder.

"I'll be here."

"Thank God," Mulder was half asleep and wholly honest. Something else came out of his mouth, something garbled to near incomprehensibility, and then he started snoring quietly. Krycek grinned and gave him a final soft kiss, his own eyes slipping closed.

"Your Russian still sucks, lover, but I love you too. And S RazhdestvOm, moya mIlaya!."