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Disclaimer stuff: All X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. Etc., etc., etc.

Blame: It's Cass's fault. She insisted that Walter wanted to be ridiculously schmoopy. So he was, and this one is for her.

Thanks: To Lynn for the beta and kind words.

Author: AnneZo @ fastmail . fm

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The red light blinking on the answering machine caught his attention and he stared at it, reluctant to play back the messages. There would be one from Mulder, he was sure of that. And since it was, he checked his watch, over two hours past the time when tonight's 'date' was supposed to have started--it couldn't be anything except a polite, "maybe next time." Which meant that the weekend he'd been looking forward to with so much anticipation was now just two more empty days that would have to be filled.

Walter knew the agent would have understood the emergency that had kept his boss in the office almost four hours past his usual time. That wasn't a problem. Not having called the other man to explain might be. He wondered unhappily if Mulder had called first, or if he had just shown up at Walter's door and stood there, confused, when his ring went unanswered. Gathering his energy, he pushed the playback button and waited while the messages played. The third one was Mulder's.

"Sir?" The voice was cautious. "It's Mulder. I'd appreciate it if you could give me a call when you get home."

Mulder didn't sound particularly annoyed. With a wave of optimism, Walter realized that it was possible, even likely, that Mulder was aware of today's crisis. The weekend might not be a total loss. There was still tomorrow, after all. He picked up the phone and punched in Mulder's home number, then waited, feeling his momentary enthusiasm melt away as the phone rang and rang in his ear. When the answering machine kicked on, he gave up and replaced the receiver.

Walter thought about dinner, but the last of his energy had ebbed about the time Mulder failed to answer his phone. Walter decided to have a drink instead. He was in the kitchen, getting ice, when his phone rang. Walter listened to the whrrr for a few paralyzed seconds before he found himself hurrying back to the living room with a totally unfounded sense of expectation.

"Skinner."

Sick anger mixed with Walter's disappointment and he barely kept his temper. "I don't need any insurance." He dropped the receiver and decided to make that drink a double.

The phone rang again. "That wasn't very nice." Familiar, reproachful voice. "You didn't even let me get to the part that explained the comprehensive dental plan."

"Mulder?"

The room around him settled into something bright with promise. "You're lucky I didn't offer to turn you in. Don't you know that it's illegal to make telemarketing calls after nine in the evening?"

"Remind me and I'll fill out a report on myself Monday morning." A quiet laugh vibrated through the phone. "What are you doing?"

"I just got home," Walter said quickly. "I was fixing myself a drink."

"Did you eat?" Mulder sounded disappointed.

"No." Walter thought about the stale sandwich he'd ignored in the conference room. "Didn't get a chance."

"Oh?" Mulder's voice was elaborately casual. "I thought maybe you'd remember you were supposed to be having dinner with me."

"I remembered." Walter's hand tightened on the receiver. "I didn't know if you knew where I was."

"Word got around pretty fast once the bullets started flying down south." There was a noticeable hesitation. "Well, I know you're probably tired."

"Have you had dinner?" Walter asked desperately.

"Not yet," Mulder admitted. "I came out to pick up some Italian."

'Came' out? "Where are you?"

"I decided on spaghetti and meatballs." There was a nervous edge to the low voice. "You like spaghetti?"

"Yes, I do. Where are you?" Walter insisted. There was a long silence, punctuated by the sound of something crackling. Interference? "Mulder?"

"I guess I'm about . . . ." He could hear Mulder clearing his throat. "Right outside your door, actually."

Walter stared at the door. "My door?"

The weekend stretching out in front of Walter didn't look quite so bleak any more. "Mulder?"

"You're an idiot," Walter said happily.

"Are you going to ring the doorbell?"

He hung up the phone and was opening the front door two seconds later. Mulder managed to look both shy and sheepish as he slid past the older man and into the apartment. Walter took the large plastic bag from the other man's hand. A rich aroma of pasta sauce--tomatoes and sausage--filled the air and he was suddenly ravenous. "Smells great."

Mulder dropped the other small bag he'd been carrying next to the desk. "A clean shirt," he said casually. "Spaghetti sauce is tricky stuff."

Walter locked the door, feeling Mulder's grin as he hooked the night chain, then led the way to the kitchen.

Mulder followed him, talking fast. "I made an appointment for the car but I can take it in myself if you need to work or something."

Walter put the spaghetti on the table and turned to face his guest. He helped the younger man slide out of his jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair, then gathered Mulder against him in a warm hug.

"I don't have to work," he said. "Thanks for getting dinner and I'm glad you're here."

Mulder relaxed against him, his arms sliding around Walter's waist. "That's good," he said. "I wasn't sure you'd still . . . ."

Walter silenced him with a kiss. "I tried to call you as soon as I got home."

"Should have tried the cell." Mulder made a face. "I've been parked across the street for half an hour."

Walter frowned at him. "Didn't you see me come in?"

"I saw you." Mulder shrugged, grinning self-consciously. "I was trying to decide whether or not I was making an ass out of myself."

Walter kissed him again, then rubbed their cheeks together, noticing Mulder's recent shave. He wished he'd gotten around to taking a shower himself. "I didn't check the messages right away," he admitted. "I couldn't decide if you were going to be pissed off, or just say 'some other time,' you know?"

Mulder laughed, rocking against him. "God, I hope we get better at this."

"We couldn't get much worse," Walter said ruefully. He stole another kiss. His stomach growled and he slid away from the younger man.

"You think you're hungry?" Mulder grinned at him. "I've been sitting out there smelling that stuff for half an hour, you know."

"You want to eat in here or in the living room?" Walter started gathering plates and forks while Mulder unpacked the food.

Mulder pried the lid off of the sauce and the kitchen filled with a spicy tomato odor that made Walter's mouth water. "I don't care, whichever you want." The younger man stirred the sauce. "We need to heat this up."

Walter's stomach complained again. "We'll eat it cold."

Mulder grinned at him. "Cold spaghetti? That doesn't sound like you. The next thing I know, you'll be saying I can eat it in bed."

Walter thought longingly of crisp sheets and firm pillows. Not even the exhilaration of Mulder's unexpected appearance had erased the effect of a day that had started well before five a.m. "Why not?" He traded the plates for a couple of shallow bowls, handing one to Mulder. "You spill any on the sheets, you sleep in it."

"I've slept in worse." Mulder filled his bowl with pasta and sauce, virtuously taking only three of the oversized meatballs as soon as he noticed Walter's watchful eye on him.

Walter filled his own bowl, then eyed the garlic bread and tried to weigh his hunger against the discomfort of the inevitable crumbs on the sheets. Mulder solved the problem for him by dumping two of the crusty slices on top of Walter's pasta and the other two on his own bowl.

Walter grabbed a handful of napkins and followed the younger man up the stairs. "How was your day?" he asked curiously. If Mulder was involved in a case, it hadn't reached the point where he and his partner were ready to share any information with the A.D. Walter hadn't even seen Scully for several days.

"Not bad." Mulder balanced his bowl on the bedside table in the darkened room and started to strip. "Better than yours."

Walter watched him doubtfully for a second. He hadn't thought Mulder intended to . . . .

The younger man slid under the blankets and over to grab the remote control from the other bedside table and flip on the small lamp. He leaned back against a stack of pillows and smiled up at Walter. "Coming to bed?" The warm glow highlighted a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Walter fell out of his clothes and on top of the other man, pinning Mulder against the pillows. "Christ, you look good," he groaned.

"Yeah?" Mulder's arm slid around Walter's shoulders and stroked his back. "You feel great," he whispered.

Walter fought the blankets and sheets out of the way and the two men wrapped themselves together in a tangle of arms and legs and breathless kisses for a few blissful minutes.

"Ahhh . . . ." Mulder squirmed in under Walter's arm and collapsed bonelessly against his chest, smiling.

Walter hugged him, feeling the firm weight molding itself to his body. "Jesus, I waited all day for this," he sighed. He rubbed Mulder's back and the younger man raised his head for a warm kiss. "All week," Walter corrected. He rolled the two of them onto their sides and moved in for another, longer kiss.

There was another audible rumble from the area of their stomachs. Mulder snickered. "Me, I think."

"We should eat." Walter traced the curve of Mulder's cheek. "It's going to get cold."

"It's already cold," Mulder objected. "It will wait a couple of minutes."

Walter looked at the hopeful face next to his own, then turned his head and nuzzled Mulder's arm, watching the pleased smile spread his lover's face.

Mulder reached over and kissed him, his lips trailing along the angle of Walter's jaw and up to his mouth. Walter leaned into the caress. The warmth inside of him bubbled up and curved his own lips into a satisfied grin. He pulled their bodies together, holding the younger man close. He'd waited all week for this moment and now that it was finally here, it felt better than anything he'd imagined.

Another two-toned growl interrupted their next kiss. Mulder nuzzled his neck, laughing. "Yours or mine?"

"Both, I think." Walter smiled.

Another rumble. "That was yours," Mulder claimed, laughing harder.

The joke was contagious. Walter heard his own answering chuckle with surprise. "Yours," he denied. "It had that sort of hollow sound."

"No, it didn't." Mulder tried to control his laughter. Another, louder growl. "That was me," he said triumphantly.

Walter slid down and gave the area a punishing nip, laughing at Mulder's yelp of surprise. He grinned up at the younger man, his cheek resting against the flat stomach.

"Walter . . . ." Mulder touched his cheek, then sat up and pulled the older man's mouth to his for a kiss.

They stretched out next to each other again and Walter smiled at his lover's flushed face. The dim lighting suited Mulder, softening the sharp planes and angles of his face and warming his eyes to a soft brown. "I don't think you laugh like that often enough."

"No one ever lets me eat cold spaghetti in bed," Mulder said, still laughing. "Eat," he ordered. He restacked the tumbled pillows and grabbed his own bowl. "TV okay?"

"Nothing weird." Walter retrieved his own dinner and leaned against the pillows, trying to decide which approach to the sticky pasta was least likely to result in disaster.

Mulder found a channel where a movie was just coming on, and settled back to attack his own food. He speared one of the oversized meatballs and took a bite. "I'm starved," he complained. He shot Walter a mischievous look. "I thought I was never going to get dinner."

"You've already got spaghetti sauce on your chin," Walter said with satisfaction. He watched Mulder swipe his face with a napkin. "Missed it." He leaned over and licked off the drop of spicy sauce.

Mulder giggled, sounding absurdly young, and nodded at Walter's bowl. "Okay, stud. Let's see you try it."

Walter plunged his fork into the bowl with an assumption of casualness and lifted a cautious mouthful. He almost managed it before one strand slithered off the fork and onto his chest. Mulder peeled the pasta off of Walter's chest with a triumphant laugh and waited for him to swallow.

"Yours, I believe." He dangled the strand over Walter's mouth.

He almost managed to nip one finger while eating the spaghetti, but Mulder pulled away an instant too soon. The younger man gave him a wicked grin and leaned over to lap the remaining tomato sauce off of Walter's torso. "You know," he said. "This spaghetti idea was better than I thought." He nuzzled his way up to Walter's chin and accepted a quick 'thank you' kiss.

"At this rate, it will be midnight before we finish eating," Walter pointed out.

Mulder gave him a euphoric smile. "You have someplace else to be?"

"No place in the world." Walter couldn't resist stealing another kiss.

"Yeah." Mulder grinned. "Me, too." He turned back to his own dinner, still smiling.

A few minutes passed while Walter mastered getting his dinner directly to his mouth without leaving a trail. Once or twice, Mulder grabbed his hand and claimed the right to lick off drops of sauce, but eventually the older man got the hang of it. Mulder seemed to handle the task effortlessly, which told Walter a lot about the other man's solitary dining habits.

"What is this?" His attention was distracted by the movie on the television. An obnoxiously artificial dinosaur menaced two men who were struggling harder to look scared than seemed absolutely necessary.

"The Land That Time Forgot," Mulder said with satisfaction. He crunched into a piece of garlic bread. "It's a classic."

On-screen, the dinosaur fell limply to the deck of the ship, its head somehow shrinking about 75% in the process. The plastic creation bounced.

"Why are there dinosaurs on that ship?" Walter persisted.

Mulder finished off his last meatball and eyed Walter's plate casually. "It's a submarine and the dinosaur was standing next to it. You going to eat that last meatball?"

"Yes." Walter speared it. "You still hungry?"

"I could eat." Mulder looked at Walter's fork.

Walter handed the younger man his last piece of garlic bread, grinning at the disappointed face. Mulder gave him a look, but he took the bread.

Walter cut the meatball down to manageable bites and popped one into his mouth. "What's the woman doing there?"

"Love interest," Mulder said indistinctly.

Walter gave him a suspicious look and counted the pieces of meatball remaining in his bowl. "What is she doing on a submarine?" he asked.

"Captured by the Germans." Mulder eyed the remains of Walter's dinner, then laid his own fork and bowl aside. "Are you seriously telling me you've never seen this one?"

"What's so surprising about that?" Walter finished his dinner and took the bowls over to stack on the dresser next to the door. "It's a lousy movie," he pointed out, crawling back into bed.

The younger man gathered Walter in to relax against his shoulder. "I can see your knowledge of the classics has been sadly neglected," he teased.

"A fact for which I don't think I've ever been sufficiently grateful," Walter said lazily.

Mulder laughed and gave him a quick hug. "Feeling better?"

"I felt better as soon as you got here," Walter admitted. He would have been embarrassed by the unguarded honesty if it hadn't been rewarded with another hug and the feeling of Mulder's cheek brushing against his head.

"That's nice to know." His lover's low voice was almost a purr and the long arms cradling Walter's body held him as through he were something valuable and fragile.

He lay almost motionless in the embrace, lost in the novelty of being cuddled. "S'true," he offered. Something warm and happy was spreading through him, something more than the pleasure of a good dinner and some entertaining company. Good company. He smiled to himself. Mulder was a lot more than that, as Walter was quickly beginning to realize.

He nuzzled a soft kiss against Mulder's arm and licked the inner curve of his elbow. "You taste pretty good even without the sauce," he teased.

Mulder slid down behind him until his face was pressed against Walter's cheek. "Wow. A few meatballs and you go from tiger to tabby cat in no time flat."

Walter turned and gathered his lover against his side. "I'm glad you showed up," he said honestly.

"You are?" Mulder sounded unbelievably pleased.

"I am." Walter smoothed the brown hair back from the other man's forehead. "You weren't home when I called. I was disappointed."

Mulder burrowed in against him, his face buried in Walter's neck. "I felt like such an asshole, sitting down there waiting forever." His voice was half laughing, half tense. "But . . . I'd been thinking about this all week and I was afraid if I just called, you, you'd say tomorrow or something."

"A pre-emptive strike?" Walter let his smile show in his voice. "You figured if you just showed up at my door, I'd let you in?"

"Something like that." Mulder's arms tightened around his waist. He seemed to share the older man's compulsive honesty tonight. "Kind of a jerk thing to do when you were tired, I know. Which is why it took me twenty minutes to get up the nerve to come in after you got home."

"Any time you want to surprise me with dinner in bed, feel free," Walter offered recklessly.

"Any time?" Mulder looked wistful, then he smiled. "I'll try not to abuse the privilege."

Walter felt ridiculously pleased with himself and the world in general. "You're a lunatic, you know?"

"But you knew that before, so that's okay, isn't it?" Mulder smiled at him.

"Yeah. It's okay." It was a lot more than okay, but Walter wasn't sure how to say that. Not yet.

Mulder smiled brilliantly and Walter felt his heart turn over. "Jesus." He gave the younger man a quick, hard kiss. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mulder looked uncertain. "What do you mean?"

"I mean here." Walter hugged him. "With me."

"I want to be here," Mulder said simply. He wrapped himself around Walter. "And you said 'yes'." He sounded absurdly smug.

"So I did," Walter remembered. One hand skated over his lover's back, stroking up and down to memorize the planes and curves of the smooth muscles.

Mulder shivered and pressed against him when Walter's hand lingered around the curve of his hip. "And here we are."

"Yes." Walter kneaded the hard muscle. His eyes drifted to his lover's serious face. It would be so easy to get lost in this. Having this man in his arms, in his bed. In his life in this intimate and necessary way.

"I wondered if it was me, or just that you needed . . . ."

"I thought the same thing." Walter smiled against the brown hair. "About both of us." He rolled onto his back, pulling Mulder on top of him and relishing the way the firm body shifted and pressed against him.

"At least we're on the same wavelength." Mulder kissed him thoroughly.

"Mmm hmm." Walter let his lover slide over and curl up next to him again. He laughed, shaking his head.

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "Got a wavelength joke you wanted to share?"

"I just . . . ." Walter shook his head again. "Who knew you were so cuddly?" he asked. He could have sworn Mulder was blushing. "It's okay, I was just . . . ." He looked at the other man, once again overwhelmed by what had happened between them.

"That's why." Mulder traced Walter's smile with one fingertip. "It's hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hard enough so that when they weren't together, Walter found himself doubting that it was as right as it seemed to be when they were like this. Doubting, that is, when he wasn't struggling to keep from humming under his breath and daydreaming through meetings.

He was caught by an enormous yawn. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Long day," Mulder agreed. He rubbed his face against Walter's shoulder and stretched.

"Too long." Another yawn fought with the pleasure of feeling Mulder's body moving against his.

"We can sleep in." Mulder flipped off the television and handed Walter the remote. "We don't have to take the car in until ten."

Sleep in. It sounded wonderful. Walter smiled at his lover's smug face, reluctant to turn off the light and lose sight of the other man's face.

Mulder reached past him and turned out the lamp himself, pressing a gentle kiss against Walter's mouth. "Sleep," he ordered. "We have all weekend. Right?"

"Yeah. We do." Walter let his lover squirm around until they were spooned together, Mulder's back warm against Walter's chest. All weekend. He smiled and kissed the back of Mulder's neck, listening to the other man's sleepy murmur of pleasure.

Walter laid his face against a warm shoulder and let his eyes drift closed. Tomorrow, he'd find a way to let Mulder know just how right the two of them were for each other. They had all weekend to make each other believe it and Walter intended to use every moment.

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The end