We meet in the dark. It's familiar. All too damn familiar. It is always in the dark. This job calls for hiding and secrecy far beyond the job description on paper. We work for and against the people. For ourselves, and despite ourselves. Everything is in the dark. And no one is compelled to stop. We're bound too tightly by this game we play.
But this is a new one, tainted by old ways. The same old fear, the knowledge that all you do can ruin you. I'm impatient. Mulder especially likes to play games, but a different kind. He plays for fun. He plays fair…mostly. That's what gets him into trouble. It's why I have to save his ass all the time, and why sometimes I can't because I need to save my own.
He knows where I live. He stops by after dark sometimes.
He's looked to me, he's hated me, he's forgiven me. Nothing is ever clear cut.
We never really know where we stand with the others we're supposedly working with.
I keep the lights out this night. I know what to expect just enough to wait comfortably in the dark, but little enough to make me agitated and brooding. A new level of complication could explode in my face, or it could make life easier for a few hours. Maybe I could sleep and dream undisturbed for the night. Or maybe Mulder's opening a new can of worms I'll have to clean up and throw back in his face.
He knocks lightly when he's finally here, and lets himself in. I have my hand on my gun, but I'm not more alert than usual. This is what we had planned. I see his familiar silhouette before he closes door. I hear the shifting of his coat, then a soft, muffled thud. I see his dark silhouette carefully moving this way. I wonder how well he can see.
I stand and move to the side. Mulder's head turned towards me. Can he see me or did he just hear me? I reach out to grab his arm. This is the scenario I am faced with daily. Even during the day, Mulder is in the dark and I have the decision of whether to guide him or not. Tonight we are allies.
Mulder's hand slides over my arm in turn as he fully faces me.
"I always like the way you smell," Fox Mulder says, and I hear the faint lopsided smile he's probably wearing. I scoff softly. He's always saying strange things. He enjoys keeping people on their toes and their reluctant amusement. He shuffles closer and I feel his warmth and his soft breath. It smells faintly of mint. We keep our voices down and don't talk much. The possibility that the place, or one of us, is bugged is always high. Even in the dark, it is not safe. I grasp his arms then move away from him, briskly walking to the door and locking it. I return to him, by now we both can see. I look at him, and he stares steadily back, eyes unmoving. Mulder moves first; I let him. I want to see what he's after. I know him well enough to be sure that his honesty would eagerly reveal his intentions. He touches my chest with a firm hand, then two, and moves them around. It's strange. I haven't felt this in a long time, this comfortable sensation. It's much simpler keeping the other half of the bed vacant. Less complicated. One less weapon that can be used against me.
Mulder hums quietly. It's a happy, contented sort of noise. Then he presses his chest against mine. He feels solid and warm. But everything that happens feels dangerous. It is dangerous. He puts his face next to my neck. "I've been curious about what this would be like," he drags his lips against my skin. "You know, sometimes you get too close when you're mad at me. It just makes me want to misbehave more." Mulder lets out a very soft, short chuckle. I sigh through my nose.
"I see." I sometimes feel like I'm talking with an unruly teenager. In some ways Mulder hasn't quite aged like he should have. I put my hands on the small of his back and lean in. He picks up his head and turns in towards me. I kiss his lips softly. He kisses back and eagerly goes in for more. I kiss him more harshly, holding him firmly in place. Mulder is an adult man, I feel it in the way he holds himself, his calm and cool. But he also takes me back to my high school and early college years. He has a youth and vigor that I haven't felt in a while. It shows through in his arousal, his flirtations, and his humor.
My hands slide down and grab his backside. It's firm and muscled. Mulder is a little slender, but undeniably fit.
Mulder pulls back. "And you accuse me of being cheeky." I scoff quietly and smack his rear. There was a small gasp, but he recovered with an, "Ooh," of mock surprise. I turn him around and guide him into the bedroom. He took the initiative of removing his shirt and undoing his belt. I pulled my shirt over my head and saw his eyes move over me, as fixated as an adolescent boy, as controlled as a man.
I pushed him back on the bed and climbed over him. In the dark, things seem less real. This is a vivid dream we can both share and forget tomorrow.
He beckons me and waits for me. He puts on a show and teases the both of us. He likes doing this. I think he's wanted to do this. He does it with his words all the time. I feel an ache I haven't felt this strongly in a long time.
We're both naked in the dark, moving together, breathing together. There's a weapon in my bed again. He has to know that. We're hoping for the best. After all, this is just a dark dream. A dream on just this night. His arms grip my back strongly. Sometimes he says my name—my last name. It should probably stay that way.
I'm pulled in more and more by his warmth and smooth skin. It feels so human. For a moment I feel like a complete man again, and the thought of stopping never enters my head. Being in his body feels so good. It's bliss I'd forgotten.
I was close.
"Inside." He mutters, touching my face then trailing his hands down my back, pulling me in further. I grab him and stroke him. He has kept quiet all for his breathing, but now he's making restrained moans. It's so human, so vulnerable. He peaks on my name—my first name. I'm not sure if that's trouble. I push myself faster and harder, watching his face experiencing that bliss and I soon followed.
My door didn't open again until later the next morning.
In the dark, things don't seem as real the next day. It makes it easier to go on as usual. As it should, but Mulder has a knack for complicating things. He keeps coming back to replay the dream we had in the dark that night. "I don't want to be alone," he says as we embrace. I don't say anything I just hold him as we feel each other. That is another unwritten part of the job description: you're always alone. It's the way it is, but Mulder doesn't accept it yet. I've gotten used to it. This is just the way things are and it's about time Mulder learned this too. But in the end, despite everything, despite myself, for myself, he finds that my door is always open.
And I vainly hope it always will be.