*************************************************************************

Disclaimers: Mulder and Skinner are the concepts and the property of Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen productions. Using their characters in my own stories is of dubious legality and certainly in a gray area ethically. It's a dilemma I struggle with daily.

Other: The Usual Apologies for the Tylers. I'm thinking of taking out a hit on them.

Author: annezo @ fastmail . fm

*************************************************************************

SIDESHOW

"Mr. Skinner!"

The shrill voice caught him a moment before the elevator doors closed. Walter pretended to be absorbed by the papers in his hands.

The elevator's other passenger caught the door. "Sir," she said helpfully. "I believe someone is trying to get your attention."

"Thank you, Debra," he said, trying to sound grateful. He was reluctant to step off of the elevator and into another painful conversation with Mrs. Tyler, but the woman had stopped several feet back from the open door, obviously expecting a private discussion.

"I'll send the elevator back down," Debra said helpfully.

This left, by Walter's calculations, a minimum of three minutes he'd have to kill. Unless he got lucky, and the building was forcibly cleared by reason of a telephoned bomb threat or something in the interim.

Walter wiped the thoughts from his mind. He refused to be intimidated this way. There had to be a way to stop this persistent harassment.

The elevator doors whooshed shut behind him. "Yes, Mrs. Tyler?" He allowed himself the luxury of a hint of impatience. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, you'd have to tell me that," she said coyly.

Walter shuddered. "I'm sorry," he said abruptly. "I don't understand."

"I understand that naughty Jimmy of mine was bothering you the other day," she cooed.

A heart-stopping instant of panic. "I beg your pardon?"

"Now, now," and she shook her finger archly. "It's very nice of you to cover for the dear boy, but I've already made him admit it."

"I believe I did see him," Walter said weakly, his mind churning furiously. Surely that half-witted boy didn't... .

"He was so very impressed with you when he first met you," she explained. "I did tell him that he shouldn't bother you any more with his silly questions, but you know how children are today."

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Walter stepped back, toward the safety of the elevator. "I don't have any children. However, I can tell you that I did speak to your son for a minute or two the other evening. If he wants information about the Bureau, he really needs to contact the proper authorities."

"And that's just what I told him." Mrs. Tyler shook her head. "Not that I'm not delighted by his interest, of course. I think he needs a steady job, don't you?"

"I really wouldn't know." Walter tried to remember how he'd become the recipient of Mrs. Tyler's personal confidences.

"He's rather a flighty boy," she confessed. "Although that's rather an old-fashioned expression, these days. He's so like his father. It wasn't until I found my late husband a nice, serious job that he really managed to settle down, of course."

"Really?" Walter wondered where the damned elevator was. He did not want to know any more.

"Oh, yes," she said brightly. "In the early years of our marriage, he must have tried dozens of jobs before I put my foot down and made him pick something steady that things really began to work out for him."

Walter remembered the weak, sulky face on the photograph in her office. "I'm sure that's very interesting, but...."

"Insurance," she said triumphantly.

"I'm sorry?"

"My Uncle Harry owns an insurance agency in Baltimore," she explained. "I convinced him to take my Donny on and then made sure he kept with it until things began to work out for him." She sighed. "And then, of course, he passed away."

Sadly enough, the only emotion Walter felt was a deep and abiding sympathy for the woman's late husband. And not for his early death.

"I'm sorry," he insisted. "I don't understand what this has to do with me."

"It's Jimmy," she said earnestly. "He needs the same kind of guiding hand as his dear father did."

Walter had had enough. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I don't have the time or the qualifications to accept such a responsibility."

He heard the elevator ping softly behind him and stepped toward it again. "If you'll excuse me...."

"Oh, I'm not asking you to accept responsibility," she explained, stepping after him quickly. "Just, perhaps, if you have a few minutes one day, to talk to the boy. I'm just so worried about his future."

"Mrs. Tyler." Walter reached behind him and blocked the elevator door. "If you're having family problems, we do have a competent Human Resources department who can advise you. I don't feel that it's appropriate for you and me to discuss these matters."

He was disappointed, and worried, when she didn't look discouraged. She didn't even seem to be aware of the snub.

"How very true," she agreed cheerfully. "A man like yourself, Mr. Skinner, with so much on his mind, doesn't need to hear about my little problems."

Some kind of automatic good manners almost prompted Walter to protest that he hadn't meant to imply that her concerns were unimportant. Honesty kept his mouth closed. Important as they no doubt were to her, they were a minor annoyance to him. Well, more than a minor one, but definitely in the category of an annoyance.

Besides that, he damned well didn't want to hear about them any more.

"Thank you," he said with real gratitude. "Now, if you'll excuse me...."

"I'll talk to you later, Mr. Skinner." She smiled warmly as the doors closed.

Not if I see you first. Walter sighed in relief, then froze. He turned his head and glared at the man lounging casually in one corner of the small box. "Don't say a word."

"Who, me?" Mulder looked insulted. "Do I go for the cheap shots?"

"Every chance you get." Walter pushed the button for his own floor. "I'm surprised you didn't step out and 'rescue' me again."

"You seemed to have things well under control." Mulder watched him casually. "Besides, my Lone Ranger days are over."

"What does that mean?"

Mulder grinned and waved the folder in his hand. "Got a case," he said smugly. "I'm on my way up to see if I can get my boss to approve it. I leave town tonight for sunny California."

"He might not approve it," Walter warned.

"Hey, don't take your personal problems out on me," Mulder objected. "I've got my heart set on this one. After all, am I responsible because some people find you irresistible?"

You are if you're not one of them, Walter thought. But this wasn't the time, or the place, for that remark. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You suppose it's genetic?" Mulder asked with interest "Just imagine if she had a daughter or two as well. You could form...." He thought. "I'm not sure 'harem' is the right word. What would you call that?"

"Sick? Perverted? Disgusting?" Walter stepped off the elevator. "Are you coming?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Skinner." Mulder fell in beside him, wiping the wicked grin from his face in favor of a more appropriate expression. "May I speak to you for a minute, sir?"

Walter held open the door. "In my office, Agent Mulder."

"Yes, sir." Mulder walked past him and through Kim's office with a hang-dog air that garnered him a look of sympathy from Walter's pretty secretary.

"Was there a point to that?" He waited until the door was closed behind them and Mulder was seated across from him."

Mulder grinned. "Hey, if I go out of here looking whipped enough, you'll be drinking cold coffee for a week."

"I didn't know you were so popular with the clerical staff," Walter said pointedly.

"I have my moments. I have my fans." Mulder handed him the folder.

"I'm glad to see you have a formal presentation," Walter said with scathing politeness. "I thought you were going for the Barnum & Bailey approach these days."

Mulder winced. "Ouch. You might want to file those claws just a bit."

"Agent Mulder." Walter slapped the folder down on the desk. "That is not an appropriate way for you to address your boss. While you're in this office, I expect to receive the respect that my position and my years of service with the Bureau deserve. Is that clear?"

Mulder looked at him steadily. "What is it?"

Walter was appalled. He'd been worried about Mulder's ability to separate the personal from the professional. About the danger of Mulder using their personal relationship to his own advantage in the office. And Walter had been the one to actually cross the line.

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder." He opened the folder. "That was inexcusable."

"It was unusual, to say the least." Mulder frowned slightly. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"It's a personal matter," Walter said firmly. "Nothing that you need to worry about."

Mulder nodded. "If you say so, sir."

Walter checked the forms, asked a few pointless questions, and initialed his approval. He handed the folder back to the other man. "That will be all, Agent Mulder. I'll expect regular reports."

"Naturally." Mulder tucked the folder under his arm and clasped his hands in his lap patiently.

"Was there something else?"

"I'm not leaving until you explain that," Mulder said quietly.

"Agent Mulder...." Walter rubbed his head. "I'm sorry I bit your head off," he said honestly.

"Apology accepted," Mulder said mildly. "But I'm not leaving until you explain yourself."

Walter looked away. "It's a personal matter."

"Having something to do with the circus," Mulder nodded. "Go on."

"What?" Walter stared at him. "What circus?"

"As I recall, you're the one who introduced the Barnum and Bailey motif," Mulder pointed out.

Now that he was looking, Walter could clearly see the anger burning behind Mulder's calm stare.

"Not in the office," he said stubbornly. He rearranged the files on his desk aimlessly. "If that's all, Agent Mulder?"

"That's all." Mulder pushed himself to his feet and nodded. The gesture had a painful finality to it.

For the rest of the day, Walter tried to ignore a faint sense of nausea hovering on the edge of his consciousness. Knowing Mulder's persistence, he more than half-expected a call, Mulder checking in again to see if Walter was all right, if something had happened. The phone didn't ring and Walter found himself watching the clock tensely as 7:12 p.m., the time Mulder's flight was scheduled to take off for California, came and went.

Walter kept up the professional facade for the next two days, managing to deal with the usual overflow of paperwork, the interminable meetings, assorted staff problems, and even Kim's unexpected absence due, as she explained in a very thick voice, to an unavoidable dental emergency. Underneath it all, every time the phone rang, he kept waiting to hear Mulder's voice.

When the call came, it was less than encouraging. At least, it would have been, had it been other than a business call, of course. Mulder's voice was cool and professional. He sounded exactly like he usually did when he reported in from the field, intent on reporting their preliminary findings and completely oblivious to anything else. Which, all things considered, was less than satisfactory.

Walter still wasn't sure where that outburst in his office had come from that day. There had just been something about Mulder's amused acceptance of Mrs. Tyler's behavior, his casual unconcern about Walter's uncomfortable predicament. Something that had pissed Walter off, quickly and irrationally.

Walter sat in his living room the second evening and considered the drink in his hand. Even if he was frustrated by his inability to discourage Mrs. Tyler's advances, whether or not he had the uncomfortable feeling that Mulder and others were laughing about the situation behind his back, there had been absolutely no excuse, no justification for the way he had spoken to Mulder.

Losing his temper, which might have been forgivable during their off-hours, was inexcusable in the office.

Whatever Mulder felt about the situation, it was nothing to the treatment Walter gave himself over the next few days.

He should stop expecting Mulder's voice on the other end of the phone, open his e-mail without scanning for something with Mulder's return address. There was no point waiting for a message that clearly wasn't going to arrive.

He couldn't stop himself from hoping to hear from his lover but remembering the anger in Mulder's face, Walter didn't expect it. Which was just as well, because the phone in his living room didn't ring. Not that night, the next, or the next.

Walter was drinking. Not heavily, but more than his usual relaxer when he got home. He sat on the couch, looking at the stubbornly silent phone. It took an act of will to force himself to stop drinking and fix dinner each evening.

The fourth night, Walter gave in. Mulder wasn't going to call. It was time, and Walter wondered why it hadn't occurred to him before, for him to take the first step.

He reached for the phone, punching in Mulder's number before he could change his mind. He waited while the connection was made and was met by the relentless, angry buzz of a busy signal.

He put the phone down carefully. He'd try again in a few minutes. Mulder was working late, that was all.

Walter checked his watch. It was only six in California. Not late at all.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Walter grabbed some cash and opened the door to the delivery boy.

"Good evening, sir." Jimmy Tyler stood there, cradling Walter's Italian dinner under one arm. He was half way in the door a second later, smiling brilliantly. "I was hoping to speak with you."

Walter reached for the food, intending to usher his uninvited guest out as quickly as he had arrived. "What about?"

"It's about my mother, sir." Jimmy didn't seem to see the dismissive gesture. Handing the bag to Walter, he shrugged out of his coat and looked around appreciatively.

The older man hesitated, then shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

Jimmy was right behind him. "No problem, sir."

"What about your mother, Jimmy?" Walter put the bag on the counter then turned to face his guest, arms crossed forbiddingly. "You should know that if there's some kind of problem, I really don't think I'm the person you should be speaking to."

"I was hoping for some advice." Jimmy shrugged. "Since I haven't been able to really talk to you before, I thought I'd stop by for a few minutes. I hope you don't mind."

Walter minded quite a bit and he suspected the young man knew it. "Advice?" Walter frowned. "Surely there must be someone else you can talk to." He felt as though he'd been repeating that same phrase for months, either to Jimmy or his mother. It was getting old.

Jimmy shrugged again. "Not really. It's kind of a personal matter." He gave Walter a knowing smile. "Not really something I can talk to the local pastor about, you know?"

"You said it concerned your mother," Walter pointed out. Possibly the only thing in the world he was less interested in than Jimmy Tyler was the boy's mother. "Is there a problem at the office?"

"No. It's just that...." The young man hesitated. "I very much enjoyed seeing you the other night, sir. I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Walter asked unhelpfully.

"There are...some things I wanted to explain to her," Jimmy said carefully. "But I'm not sure how or even if it's really the right time to do it. I thought," and his eyes took in the expanse of Walter's shoulders with evident admiration, "That someone older and more experienced might be able to give me some advice. Steer me in the right direction."

Here it was. Walter's stomach knotted up. "Whatever it is that you want to discuss with her, I'm sure it's none of my business," he said firmly. "My relationship with your mother is purely professional." That didn't sound discouraging enough, so he added, "In fact, I barely know her."

"About our conversation the other evening." Somehow Jimmy was right in front of him. "I was wondering if you'd given it any thought."

Walter backed up a step before running into the counter. " Jimmy..." he started hastily.

"Sir...Walter," the young man said confidently. "I know you're involved with someone."

"How...what makes you say that?"

"It's obvious." His eyes flickered over the older man quickly. "I mean...I can't imagine that you wouldn't be. But I wanted to offer you...another option."

"Jimmy, I don't think this is...." Walter stopped uncertainly. This was his own fault. He had been too busy worrying about Mulder's reactions to the situation to consider that Jimmy might not stop at innuendo and invitation.

"I know it's sudden," Jimmy breathed against his neck. "But since it's not that easy for me to get to talk to you, I thought I'd just take a chance, if I could find you alone again."

"No," Walter said firmly, refusing to stoop to an undignified struggle to escape the embrace. He did manage to move aside a few inches and glare at the younger man. "I'm not interested."

Jimmy looked disappointed. "If you're sure..." His hands slid down the older man's arms regretfully. "At least think about it," he urged.

"I know," he interrupted before Walter could speak, "You work with my mother, and you think it could be a problem. But you said it yourself, you barely know her. And I think," he brushed a soft kiss across Walter's unresponsive mouth, "that we could be very good together."

"I said 'no', Jimmy," he said firmly, managing to step away from the counter. "And I meant no. Not now, not in the future." He led the younger man back toward the living room. "We won't discuss this again. Is that clear?"

"Yes." The voice was obedient, but the boy didn't look discouraged. It had to be some kind of damned family trait. The inability to take no for an answer.

The phone rang.

Mulder. Walter's heart thumped erratically. Abandoning, Jimmy, he strode across the floor and snatched up the receiver. "Skinner."

"I'm sorry to call you so late, sir," said a careful voice.

"Not at all, Agent Mulder." Walter glanced toward his uninvited guest. "Can you hold on for a moment?"

"If you're busy, I can call back later."

"Hold the line, Agent Mulder." Walter laid down the phone.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you," he said firmly, heading toward the door. "I would suggest that you try a counselor."

"Are you sure?" Jimmy looked disappointed. "I can wait a few minutes if you need to take that call first."

"That won't be necessary," Walter said. "Now, or in the future." He opened the door. "I hope I make myself clear?"

Jimmy's face set into a mutinous sulk. "You don't mean that."

"Believe it." Walter urged Jimmy toward the door, then closed it after him with a quiet, but definite bang.

And that, he hoped, would take care of it.

"Mulder?" He picked up the phone anxiously. "Are you there?"

He could hear a sigh through the phone. "I guess I don't have to ask who that was. "

"He just showed up," Walter said defensively. "I was getting rid of him when the phone rang."

"Of course you were."

"What does that mean?"

"How did he find out where you live, Walter? Don't tell me he followed you home like a lost puppy and you didn't notice until he was in your living room. "

It was a good question. Unfortunately, Walter didn't have a good answer for it. "I have no idea."

"Whatever." There was an uneasy silence. "I just called to tell you that Scully's coming back to Washington tomorrow. I'm staying here for a couple more days."

"Why?" Walter demanded. "If the case isn't wrapped up, why is your partner leaving you there?"

"The case is essentially finished. It's Scully's mom's birthday or something so she wanted to get back. I told her I'd stay and clean up the paperwork."

"How much longer do you expect to be?" Walter started to ask if the paperwork couldn't be done from the office, then stopped himself. He wasn't going to hover over Mulder and he certainly didn't want to imply that he didn't want Mulder out of the office for any extended length of time. No matter how true it was at the moment.

"I don't know," Mulder said casually. "A couple of days. However long it takes."

Walter wanted to object. The weekend was coming up, after all. After their disastrous last encounter, he'd been hoping.... "Very well. Keep me informed."

"I'll be doing paperwork," Mulder reminded him. "Nothing more dangerous than a paper cut."

"Give me a call and let me know when you'll be back." Walter turned loose of his half-formed plans for the weekend regretfully. "I'll expect to see you back in the office Monday."

"Okay," Mulder said slowly. "Well, thanks for the interest."

Walter wasn't destined to find out what that meant. A moment later the dial tone hummed in his ear.

He hung up the phone, thinking back over the conversation. It hadn't gone particularly well, but Mulder had called. That was something. They could smooth out the rest of it when Mulder got back into town.

Walter punched in a number quickly. One ring, two, then the connection completed.

"Mulder."

"You understand that you will be in trouble if I find out that you stayed out there visiting Disneyland on the Bureau's money?"

Mulder chuckled, the sound warming Walter irrationally. "That's Anaheim. I'm in Sacramento. Not a mouse or a beach anywhere in sight."

"Then there's no reason you can't fill out the necessary forms and be back by Saturday, is there?"

"I guess not."

"Then I'll see you Saturday." Walter broke the connection and went to the kitchen to get something to eat.

Not even the heavy white sacks with their reminder of Jimmy Tyler's persistence had the power to annoy him. He piled a generous helping of lasagna and garlic bread onto a plate and decided to eat in the living room while he watched television.

He turned on the television and flipped around until he found an old Western on one channel. That's good. He sighed happily and started eating.

Tomorrow was Thursday. Two more days until the weekend. Things were definitely looking up.

. . . .

Walter received an e-mail from Mulder, confirming that his plane would be landing at three o'clock on Saturday.

He planned the weekend carefully, feeling a little foolish as he made reservations at an out of the way restaurant and stopped by the store to pick up some grapefruit juice, which Walter couldn't stand but Mulder loved, for breakfast.

He owed Mulder an apology and Walter was determined to do it right. He also owed Mulder an explanation, which was going to be a little more difficult.

He had a number of other errands to run, but he was home by 3:00. By his calculations, Mulder should be home by 4:30. 5:00 at the latest, if Dulles was busy. Walter left a voice-mail, carefully worded, telling Mulder to call as soon as he got in.

He spent the next hour re-wiring a lamp that had shorted out and doing a few other things around the apartment. The four-thirty deadline came and went and then the five o'clock one, and the phone didn't ring. Walter tried not to watch the clock, failing miserably as another hour passed.

Walter dialed Mulder's home number impatiently, hanging up when he reached the machine again. He punched Mulder's cell phone number in and received the message that the phone was turned off.

The airport was his next bet. Walter called to check on the status of Mulder's flight. A polite but tired voice told him that the plane was unable to land, due to a storm center in Baltimore. The flight was being re-routed, probably to New York.

Walter thanked the woman and hung up the phone carefully. New York.

Mechanically, he looked up the number of the restaurant, called, and cancelled his reservation. That was that. It wasn't as though he hadn't spent weekends alone before. Since his divorce, Walter had had a lot of spare time. He had friends he could call, people he hadn't seen in a while he should get in touch with. He could go to the office and get some work done.

What he did was to sit on the couch and stare blankly at the television screen while a game played itself out. And he had a drink.

The doorbell rang two hours later and Walter's frustration boiled over into temper. Jimmy. It was that damned kid again, he could feel it.

This time, he was going to put a stop to this harassment, once and for all.

He jerked open the door, and started talking. "What in the hell...."

Mulder looked tired. And stunned. "I'm sorry?"

Mulder. "Mulder?" Walter grabbed his lover and dragged him into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"What was...."

That was as far as Mulder got before Walter pulled him into his arms and kissed him gratefully. Every time Mulder tried to talk, Walter kissed him again. At one point, he heard Mulder's bag hit the floor, then Mulder's arms locked around his shoulders and Mulder was kissing him back enthusiastically.

"Wow." Mulder laughed shakily against Walter's neck. "Not much of an overture, but the second act was great."

"How did you get here? I missed you." Walter kissed him again. "I acted like an asshole. I'm sorry." He was trying not to babble and failing dismally. "I didn't think you were going to make it."

Mulder gave him a hug. "They re-routed us to National instead of JFK. Your place was closer than mine so I took a chance on stopping by." Walter could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad I did."

"So am I," Walter told him honestly.

"Do you greet all your unexpected visitors this way?" Mulder teased. "Remind me to stop by unannounced more often."

"Idiot," Walter said fondly. He turned loose of Mulder reluctantly. "Do you want to change? Have you eaten?"

"Later." Mulder slid his arms around Walter's waist and pulled them together again. "Right now, I want to you to say hello again."

Walter kissed him. "Okay, I got a little carried away," he said, embarrassed. "I was surprised to see you."

"You should get carried away more often," Mulder teased again. "It suits you."

Walter looked at the gleam in Mulder's eyes and the smile curving his mouth. "It suits you, anyhow."

"And that has to count as a good thing, right?"

Right now, Walter didn't want to argue, even as a joke. "Yes." He kissed Mulder's neck. "A very good thing."

"If you're wondering if I missed you," Mulder said lightly. "The answer would be 'no.' Not at first, anyhow."

"I can explain," Walter offered.

"And I want to hear it." Mulder smiled at him. "But not right now."

"Right." Walter kissed him again. "You want to eat first or have sex first?" He laughed at Mulder's startled expression.

"Damn," Mulder said regretfully. "What a choice. I haven't eaten all day."

"I'm assuming you haven't had sex all day, either," Walter pointed out.

"And then some." Mulder slid a quick look at him. "I think I'll take a shower."

"A promising start." Walter untucked Mulder's shirt helpfully, running his hands up under the fabric across the smooth skin.

"And then," Mulder said thoughtfully, "I want to neck on the couch for a while. Then we can eat. And then we can have sex."

"That's very complicated," Walter objected. He stroked Mulder's shoulders under the shirt. "We might lose track. Are you sure you don't want to just...."

"No," Mulder gave Walter a grin. "I've been thinking about this all day. That's definitely the plan."

"Did you think about me washing your back?" Walter asked hopefully.

Mulder nuzzled his chin and smiled up at Walter. "If I let you do that, what happens to my plan?"

Walter thought about it. Mulder, naked in the hot shower. He kissed his lover slowly. "A good plan is always flexible."

"If you're going to wash my back, I'm going to have to eat first," Mulder apologized. "Or I'm not going to have the energy."

Walter tried to remember what he had in the house that would be fast for dinner. He could heat the lasagna up. "You shower," he ordered. "I'll get dinner started."

"I'll meet you on the couch in thirty minutes," Mulder offered.

"Deal." Walter kissed him firmly. "Go. Wash up."

Mulder snagged his suitcase and nodded, heading toward the stairs. Now that Walter stopped to look at him, Mulder looked even more tired than he had at first. Something must have gone wrong with the case.

He'd get Mulder to talk about it later, he decided.

It took only a few minutes to get the pan of lasagna into the oven for reheating. Walter laid out some garlic bread to heat at the last minute, then went back to the living room to wait for Mulder.

"Now, where were we?" Mulder said cheerfully. His hair was tousled into damp spikes and he looked more alert.

Walter opened his arms and Mulder slid onto the couch and into them smoothly. "This feels about right."

"Trust me," Walter assured him. "We were right here." He gave Mulder a kiss.

"That's it," Mulder agreed. "Right about there." He smothered a giant yawn and stretched out, his head in Walter's lap. "Anything new happening?"

Walter smoothed the damp hair, wishing for a moment that Mulder would let it grow out a few inches again. "Nothing in particular." He waited.

Mulder nodded. "Sounds peaceful."

"There's plenty going on," Walter objected. "Just nothing new. All routine."

"Have to have a routine." Mulder grinned. "Can't have a bureaucracy without routines and paperwork, can you?"

"No." Walter curled his hand across Mulder's neck lightly. "Speaking of paperwork, how did yours go?"

"We finished it." Mulder looked unhappy. "Most of it."

"What happened?" Walter probed.

Mulder sighed. "Turns out the couple we arrested had kids. Six of them." His face set expressionlessly. "We had to call Social Services. It was...kind of a scene. You know."

Walter knew. It was never pleasant and it wasn't something any agent wanted to do. He could remember the frightened crying of the children; the parents either swearing or begging; the smooth, professional faces of the social services staff hiding their very real sympathy for the children being taken inexplicably from their parents' care.

"Bad one?" he asked quietly.

"The youngest was nine months," Mulder said abruptly. His body tensed and Walter rubbed his chest soothingly. "It's a little hard to explain that your mom is going to prison to a kid that age."

"Any age," Walter corrected. "How about the others?"

"Three to fifteen," Mulder said tiredly. "I never know if the older ones are worse or not. They understand what's happening, anyhow."

"Not always a good thing," Walter agreed. He cupped Mulder's face in his hand. "Why don't you relax? Rest for a few minutes."

"I might." Mulder tried for a smile. "But don't let me fall asleep. We have a plan."

"We have time," Walter reminded him. He grinned down at Mulder. "I'll make sure all the steps get followed."

"That's important," Mulder said sleepily. "Can't have a plan without steps."

"Right," Walter said quietly. He sat and watched Mulder's eyes drift shut and listened as his breathing evened out into a light sleep.

Can't have a bureaucracy without routine. Can't have a plan without steps. Something else was bothering Mulder. Something he wasn't ready to talk about yet.

Walter shifted his position, getting comfortable, then relaxed himself, letting Mulder sleep peacefully. Once or twice, Mulder's sleeping face creased into a frown and he mumbled something incomprehensible. Each time, Walter stroked his cheek for a few seconds and Mulder slid back into dreamless sleep.

The room darkened, the single bulb of a table lamp creating a pool of light as the last rays of sunset faded from the windows. Walter could smell the lasagna heating in the kitchen. He should probably check on it, but he didn't want to disturb Mulder.

The television, muted almost to silence, flickered with a black and white movie. Godzilla vs. the Ape Man or something. It was dubbed, the actor's mouths moving oddly in contrast to the tinny whisper of voices reciting the dialogue.

Mulder stirred and his eyes flew open a few seconds later. He looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. "Liar."

"Hmm?" Walter didn't move.

"You promised not to let me sleep," Mulder said huskily.

"No I didn't."

"Hmm...maybe not." Mulder yawned. "How long was I out?"

Walter checked his watch. "About an hour."

Mulder nodded. He sniffed hopefully. "Lasagna?"

"Leftovers," Walter confirmed. "It's about all I had."

"Smells awesome," Mulder said enthusiastically. "I'm starving."

"We can't eat yet," Walter pointed out. "You have a plan."

Mulder looked startled, then pleading. "Walter, I'm starving."

"I promised," Walter reminded him. "Steps, you said. Follow the steps."

Mulder looked sly. "I didn't make you promise to follow them in order."

"Sophistry," Walter dismissed.

"That's a pretty sophisticated concept for a guy with oil under his fingernails," Mulder objected.

Walter checked quickly and Mulder took advantage of his distraction to stand up.

"Food," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "It's torture to sit here and smell that."

In the kitchen, Mulder pulled out plates while Walter stuck the garlic bread into the oven to heat.

In a few minutes, plates loaded with the rich lasagna and hot bread, they were settling back onto the couch. Walter left the television playing quietly and Mulder divided his attention between his food and the movie.

Finally he put his plate on the table and leaned back, stretching in satisfaction. "That hit the spot." He rubbed his stomach. "I'm a new man."

"I hope not."

"What?"

"I'm not done with the old one." Walter gathered up the two plates and took them back to the kitchen, listening with surprise as Mulder laughed at the tired joke. The agent was a lot more exhausted than he was pretending.

Walter cleaned up the kitchen and headed back to the living room. He caught Mulder sprawled on the couch, his eyes half-closed.

"Bed," Walter said firmly.

"Hey!" Mulder scowled up at him. "What happened to necking on the couch??"

"If you lay there for another sixty seconds, you're going to be sound asleep," Walter pointed out.

"Not if I'm not alone." Mulder rolled to one side and smiled. "What I need is something to keep me distracted."

"Mulder...."

"You want to talk to me, lay down," Mulder told him. "I'm not in the mood for vertical people."

Walter stretched out carefully, hoping he wasn't going to fall off the edge of the couch. Mulder shifted to give him some more room and in a minute they were both more or less securely settled on the large sofa.

"That's better." Mulder propped his head up on his hand and grinned at Walter. "Now. You were saying?"

"That I think you need to sleep."

Mulder burrowed his head into the curve of Walter's neck. "No way."

If it were quiet, Mulder would inevitably fall asleep, Walter decided. He didn't intend to baby the agent, but neither did he intend for Mulder to exhaust himself out of some idiotic stubbornness. Walter turned the volume on the television up and watched the screen, his hands stroking Mulder's back gently.

Mulder sighed and Walter could feel the tension seeping out of his muscles.

After a few minutes, Mulder raised his head and grinned. "I know I don't get out much anymore, but as I remember the process, necking involves a lot more kissing than this."

"Have to follow the steps, right?"

"It pays to have a plan," Mulder agreed.

Walter made a decision. He rolled off the couch and pulled Mulder to his feet. "Upstairs," he said firmly.

This time Mulder didn't argue. He let Walter push him up the stairs, trying to smother a huge yawn and stumbling over one or two of the steps.

He's out on his feet. In the bedroom, Walter flipped on a bedside lamp and went to where Mulder was swaying tiredly in the middle of the floor.

Pushing Mulder's hands aside, Walter dealt efficiently with his shirt buttons. He hung up the shirt and started peeling Mulder out of the rest of his clothes.

"Damn." Mulder fought another yawn. "Here you are feeling all cave man for a change and I don't think I have the energy to take advantage of it."

"Idiot." Walter tossed the rest of Mulder's clothes onto a chair, then leaned forward and nuzzled the soft flesh of his lover's cock. To his pleasure, there was a definite response

"Or, maybe I do." Mulder's hand stroked his head gently.

Walter couldn't resist. He ran his hands up Mulder's legs, feeling the muscles shift and tighten as Mulder swayed toward him. He licked slowly, tracing a line from the base of the hardening organ toward the sensitive crown.

Mulder sighed and pushed against him. "I'll take 'Encores' for five hundred," he suggested.

Walter chuckled, the vibrations sending a shiver of response through Mulder. Walter repeated the caress; hearing Mulder's hum of satisfaction and feeling the grip on his head tighten slightly.

Reluctantly, Walter climbed to his feet and gave Mulder a kiss. "Bed," he repeated.

"Absolutely." Mulder's eyes gleamed. "Who needs foreplay?"

In spite of Mulder's jokes, Walter didn't miss the tired stumble as he climbed into bed. He undressed, taking his time and knowing that Mulder would relax while he waited for Walter to join him.

By the time Walter slid into bed, Mulder was once again losing the battle against sleep.

"Shouldn't leave me alone for so long," Mulder said indistinctly. "I get bored easily, you know."

Walter smiled at him. "You're exhausted. Get some sleep."

"Hey!" Mulder made a determined effort to look alert. "I was promised sex."

"You're going to be asleep in two minutes, no matter what I do," Walter told him. "I'm not wasting my energy trying to keep you awake."

"I have every faith in your ability," Mulder offered.

Walter might have been tempted by the way Mulder's hand slid down below his waist and started exploring, if Mulder's body hadn't been shaken by another huge yawn a few seconds later.

Walter kissed him briefly, pulling Mulder's hand up against his chest. Something kept nagging him about Mulder's earlier words.

"What else happened in California?" Walter probed. "Did you have any trouble with the locals?"

"Not really." Mulder didn't look surprised by the abrupt change of subject. "Under the circumstances, I thought it went pretty well."

Considering that Mulder and Scully had headed out to investigate reports of a ghost with the ugly habit of kidnapping and dismembering trespassers and had discovered a budding counterfeit ring, that was saying a lot.

Walter dismissed the case. It wasn't that. "Then, what is it?"

"What's what?" Mulder looked wary.

"Plans, routines, bureaucracies. That's all you've talked about since you got here," Walter exaggerated. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh?"

Walter could see him hesitating, weighing something. "Just say it, Mulder."

Mulder propped his head on one arm and smiled casually but Walter could feel his tension. He waited. Maybe it was unfair to take advantage of Mulder's vulnerability when he was tired, but Walter didn't care.

"You're the planning type," Mulder said. "A schedule for everything. What about me?"

"You're not the planning type," Walter said dryly. "So what?"

"That's not what I mean." Mulder fidgeted restlessly.

"And?" Walter invited, not moving.

"I've been assuming you have some sort of plan," Mulder said irritably.

"You mean, about us?" Walter was beginning to understand.

"Yeah," Mulder rubbed his eyes. "About us."

Walter tried to decide how to answer. "In the first place, it would be a little presumptuous of me to make plans," and he copied Mulder's emphasis precisely, "Without talking to you about it."

Mulder shrugged.

"In the second place, I don't," Walter finished abruptly.

"No?"

"No." Walter looked at him steadily. "I told you before, I don't have any idea what in the hell we're doing. If there's a rule book, I haven't seen it."

Mulder smiled weakly. "Forty-five thousand government pamphlets on every subject and nothing for this. I checked."

"Not on Bureau time, I hope," Walter said automatically, watching him closely. "What title were you searching for?"

"Steps to take when your boss, who's also your lover, slams the door in your face and refuses to explain." Oddly enough, just saying what was on his mind seemed to relax Mulder. He curled back against Walter's shoulder comfortably.

"I told you I could explain," Walter objected.

"I wasn't sure I'd want to hear it." Mulder made a face. "Not that I think you're really going risk your career and even a prison sentence over some nineteen year-old twinkie."

"I'd hope not. I might not respect you any more if you did." Walter fought to keep a smile from his face. "You can't really have thought that?"

"I'm not jealous," Mulder said defensively. "Although that kid is starting to get on my nerves."

"Imagine how I feel." Walter hugged Mulder firmly. "I'll think of something."

"So what was the problem?"

Walter had felt guilty, self-conscious, defensive, and ashamed of his outburst in the office that day. Now he felt embarrassed.

Mulder caught his expression and a gleam of humor lit his face for a moment. "What?"

"I thought you were laughing at me," he admitted the words muffled against Mulder's hair. "Ever since you told me that the entire building knows about that woman, I've felt like there was a camera on us every time I see her. I just thought about you laughing with the rest of them, and...." Walter's words trailed off as he realized just how stupid that sounded.

He was grateful when Mulder took the explanation seriously. "Maybe I did laugh at you, but only to your face," he said quietly. "If you've been imagining me standing around, regaling the office with funny stories...."

"Forget it," Walter interrupted. He sighed. "Somehow it seemed logical at the time."

"Have you spent a lot of time thinking about this?" Mulder asked curiously.

"Of course not. It was just for a minute, that day in the office."

Mulder laughed shortly. "Well, that figures."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been worried about Junior," Mulder said tiredly, "And all you're thinking about is his mother."

"I'm not thinking about her," Walter said definitely. Then he did think of both of the Tylers for an angry moment. There had to be a way to put and end to this situation.

"You know what I mean." Mulder waved away the interruption. "I thought it had something to do with me, with us, and all the time you were just worried about your dignity?"

Even though there was no bitterness in Mulder's voice, Walter wasn't sure how to answer that. "I wasn't really thinking of it like that."

"I guess that means you're not going to volunteer to make a plan and write a rule book, either?" Walter could hear the amused acceptance in Mulder's voice.

"In your dreams," Walter said comfortably. Not for the first time, he swore a private oath to keep better control of his temper in the office.

"I'm beginning to think you were right when you said you weren't qualified." Mulder kissed him to take the sting out of the words.

"I have been trying to say that," Walter said mildly.

"I guess I didn't believe it." Mulder rubbed his head and smiled. "Listen, I don't know about you, but I'm fading fast here."

"Right." Walter tipped Mulder's face up and kissed him. "You okay?"

"I'm okay." Mulder smiled. "Just jet-lagged or something."

Walter flipped off the lights. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he grew aware of the moonlight streaming in through the light curtains. The glow highlighted Mulder's face against his shoulder. Walter was tempted to try and coax Mulder into making love, but his lover was more than half-asleep already.

Walter had to be content with one kiss and a dreamy smile from his lover.

"Night," Mulder said with satisfaction.

"Good night," Walter said, amused by the smug curve of Mulder's mouth..

"Laugh all you want," Mulder threatened around another yawn. "I waited all week to be here and you're not going to embarrass me about it."

"I don't want to embarrass you," Walter said. He rested his cheek against the top of Mulder's head. "I've been waiting too, you know."

"In your spare time," Mulder agreed thickly. "In between blondes."

"They're just a hobby," Walter said solemnly. "I can quit at any time."

"A hobby? What does that make me?" Mulder grinned up at him and then his eyes drifted shut. "Hold that thought," he breathed. He took a deep breath and his weight settled against Walter heavily.

Walter looked at Mulder's sleeping face. What does that make you?

He closed his eyes and waited to fall asleep himself. There was an answer for that, but it was too soon. There was too much unexplored territory to make it safe to take that next step.

Mulder stirred uneasily and his hand tightened around Walter's waist. Walter stroked his shoulder and Mulder drifted back a deeper sleep.

Walter watched the sleeping face and sighed. He knew his answer, but in spite of everything, he didn't know if it was the one Mulder wanted.

What am I to you? He wasn't ready to ask Mulder that question.

For a moment, the vastness of the world outside the bedroom overwhelmed him. His job, Mulder's job and his fantastic quest to uncover a truth no one else believed in, the danger they were both in.

Walter's arms tightened around Mulder's shoulders. He couldn't do it. Couldn't find a way to make this fit into that world.

Mulder stirred again and his eyes opened. He looked at Walter, reading his expression. "We can do it," he said distinctly.

"Can we?"

"Of course." His moment of clarity fading, Mulder's eyes closed again. "We're together."

****

The end