M/K
PWP.
Smut, no actual sex, no plot,
bit of humor... No real point to this at all....hmmm...I guess I just had a "Mulder"
moment.
Truth is, I wrote this scene with the intention of fitting it
within a larger story then changed my mind, stole parts of it for
"Cat Burglar" and left this original piece to fester in the
bowels of my hard drive.
I found it again
recently, dusted it off, decided it was a fun little piece of nonsense
in its own right, so decided to post it as a vignette as part of my
Anniversary update.
SNAP HAPPY by Mort
"I've got two words for you…bull shit."
"Huh?" Mulder spluttered around his Big Mac. He couldn't believe his
irritatingly polite subordinate had actually sworn at him.
"Okay. Try these two instead. Urban Legend," Krycek continued.
Mulder finally had the grace to flush a little, although he pouted prettily and glared at Krycek with all the dignity he could manage
while chewing a handful of French fries. He swallowed, cleared his throat, gazed longingly once more at his rapidly cooling dinner, then sighed in acceptance of the younger man's obvious intention to leave the gear stick in neutral until he was convinced Mulder was playing with a full deck.
On one hand, Mulder understood Krycek's hesitation. Mulder had made no attempt to befriend him, confide in him or, let's face it, even treat him with mere professional disinterest. No. He'd made a concerted and deliberate effort to destroy Krycek's initial enthusiasm for the X-files, so he only had himself to blame for the fact that Krycek had finally failed to bite.
On the other hand, he was the senior Agent, the head of the department (even if it DID only have two staff) and when he said jump, the only words Krycek was supposed to say were 'how high'. Not
'bull shit'. Which, come to think of it, was just one word anyway. Krycek wasn't only a green punk in a bad suit. He was an illiterate punk.
Then again, on the other hand, Mulder had to admit that the scenery was nice enough *despite* the bad
suit and haircut.
But, since he didn't have three hands, he didn't allow himself to dwell on *that* thought.
"Drive," he snapped.
Krycek fixed him with huge, green eyes and then lowered his unbelievably long lashes until his expression was almost painfully demure. Then, in a voice that slithered across Mulder like raw silk, he said:
"No."
The word was so contrary to Krycek's posture of submission that it took Mulder a moment to digest its meaning.
/Who's illiterate now?/ a mocking voice whispered in the back of Mulder's head.
He was too occupied with rolling his ice-filled coke over the stirring in his groin to even notice.
Dammit. He had to get rid of this guy soon, or he was going to get himself into a shit load of trouble. His career prospects were already tenuous enough without being hauled up on charges for the molestation of a very young, very green,
obscenely sexy, subordinate agent.
"Problem?" Krycek asked, offering a paper napkin.
"Wha…?"
Flushing, Mulder looked up into innocent green eyes.
"You looked uncomfortable. I thought you'd spilt something," Krycek explained, and glanced with casual interest at Mulder's lap.
Mulder snatched the proffered napkin with an embarrassed snarl.
"Look just drive. I'll explain on the way."
Krycek gave a small, reluctant shrug and, to Mulder's surprise, capitulated. He shifted into drive, indicated and pulled out into the traffic. Mulder took a long sip of coke to
organize his thoughts. He knew his leaps of intuitive logic were beyond most people, and sensed that Krycek was no longer prepared to simply follow him like an adoring puppy.
Of course he isn't, the sarcastic voice whispered again. Even a puppy can only be kicked so many times before he learns to refuse to come to heel.
"I thought you had an open mind," Mulder challenged. "I thought you respected me and were willing to suspend your disbelief. Have you lost your enthusiasm for the
X-files after all?"
He grinned internally as he waited to see whether Krycek would squirm out of the trap or just bury himself deeper.
"Skinner had me yesterday," Krycek said, with a dramatic shiver. "Jeez, the guy is so BIG."
Mulder spluttered coke all over the dashboard.
"What"?"
"I mean I'd never really noticed," Krycek continued, blithely unaware that Mulder was choking in the passenger seat. "I've only ever seen him sitting behind his desk before."
"He…he had you?" Mulder asked weakly, his mind swirling.
"About the Oakhampton case. He said if I turned in another report like that, I'd find myself posted to Alaska." He turned miserable eyes on Mulder. "He said it's so cold there, my balls would freeze and drop off."
"He…um…did?" Mulder asked, as a daydream popped into his head of both himself and Krycek being relegated to the Alaska office. He could think of several ways to ensure that Krycek's balls stayed snug and cosy.
"So, with respect, Sir, I really would prefer not to have to explain to the AD why we spent the day down the sewers of DC, looking for a man-eating Alligator."
Mulder could see his point. He could also imagine a number of far more interesting and less pungent ways to get dirty with Alex Krycek. However, Mulder was slave neither to Skinner's
skepticism nor his own rebellious sexual urges.
"Sherlock Holmes had a saying," he began portentously, hoping the literary reference would impress the younger man.
"Pass my opium?" Krycek sniggered under his breath.
"What?"
"Just clearing my throat, Sir," Krycek replied innocently.
Mulder narrowed his eyes but continued. "As I was saying, Sherlock Homes used to say that when you have eliminated the impossible, then what was left, no matter how improbable, had to be the truth."
Krycek shrugged, clearly unimpressed.
"The theory stinks and if we go down in those sewers, so will we."
"Afraid of getting your suit dirty, Krycek?" Mulder sneered nastily.
"More worried about the safety of my balls," Krycek replied.
"Leave me to worry about your balls," Mulder snapped, then flushed as he
realized what he had said.
Fortunately, Krycek seemed oblivious.
"The thing is," Krycek said earnestly, "the pathologist clearly stated that the foot had been so badly gnawed by rats that it is impossible to know how it became
detached from its body in the first place."
"So, what are you suggesting? That someone just carelessly misplaced their foot like an old shoe? They accidentally dropped their foot down the toilet and flushed it away?"
Krycek gave an offended sniff.
"All I'm saying is that there's a thousand possible scenarios that could have placed the foot in the sewerage system. It doesn't prove that the victim was in a sewer when the foot was detached. Besides, even if the rest of the body was down there, it's probably already been eaten by the rats."
"Probably," Mulder agreed easily.
"And, anyway, we're far more likely to find evidence of a homicide than an x-file. The murderer, if there was a murderer and all we have so far is a foot, not a body, probably chopped the body up and threw it in the sewer. So if that's true it's not an FBI case at all."
"But the pathologist also stated that the foot was severed while the victim was still alive," Mulder pointed out.
Krycek's face twisted in thought and his fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel.
"So, maybe the murderer tied the victim up and chopped off his foot."
"And is that the typical behavior of a simple crime of passion, or more indicative of a serial killer?" Mulder asked.
"Could have been a hit," Krycek pointed out mulishly.
"Either scenario would make it an FBI investigation, wouldn't it?
Krycek bit his lip and darted a suspicious glance sideways before nodding.
"So, " Mulder finished with a smirk. "Don't you think it makes more sense to go looking for a body in the sewer, than walking around DC until we find a hopping man?"
"I thought you said the killer was a man-eating alligator that had escaped into the sewers," Krycek replied.
Mulder chuckled at the expression of complete confusion on the younger Agent's face and wished he had a camera to record the moment.
"What?" Krycek demanded.
"God, you're so gullible Krycek. Don't you know that's just an urban legend?"
The End.
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