"What happened between you and Mulder when you were partners?"
I swear it's like I just shocked him with a cattle prod. He stiffens and the grin disappears. Guess he wasn't expecting that one. I slide off the table onto the cold linoleum, and there's enough room between him and the table that I can stand comfortably in front of him. I brace my hands on either side of the chair and lean toward him.
"Did you turn him down?"
Krycek's glittering green eyes widen in surprise--he doesn't even bother to point out the fact that I've asked two questions. Unfortunately, he hasn't answered either of them. I try again.
"Did he turn you down?"
I've been to Mulder's apartment enough times to catch a glimpse of his 'video' collection. And let me tell you, it's not all het. In fact, het would be in the minority. Krycek swallows, moves his head back slightly to get away, but there's really no place for him to go.
"I tried to seduce him to gain his trust," he says. Now his voice is downright hoarse. Wonder if I'm doing that?
"And?" I can pretty much figure it out on my own from here, but I still want to hear it.
"And he fell for it. But then he found out I wasn't gay . . ."
Yeah, that's what I had figured. I'm not a Special Agent for nothing. My fine detective skills also notice the direction that Krycek's gaze is taking. I'd forgotten about my blouse. I almost pull away before deciding that I can use this to my advantage. Lucky for you I wore a really nice bra today. Hope you appreciate it. And he seems to. Appreciate it, I mean. His breathing is a bit quicker, short puffs against my chin. I can smell berries. Krycek must have eaten a blueberry muffin in the past hour.
When AD Skinner accidentally looked down my blouse that morning it was like he wished he'd never seen anything. But Krycek--Krycek looks like he wants to take a bite out of me. He actually licks his lips. It's been a long time since a man looked at me that way. Especially since I started working with Mulder. This would be a really bad time for Mulder to come back in. He's bound to get curious soon because he's been out in the hallway for a half hour. The man has the patience of a Christmas Eve crowd at Barney's. So I ask the thing that I'm really curious about.
"And how far did your seduction go?"
His eyes snap up to mine. There's all sorts of interesting emotions swirling around in them. Confusion. Respect. Wariness. Desire. Amusement. I think he actually leans toward me. His nose brushes my cheek, just for an instant.
"That's five questions. You're not playing by the rules, Dana."
I have to admit that his use of my first name startles me. All through med school I was Ms. Scully and then Dr. Scully. In Quantico I was Cadet Scully, then Agent Scully, and finally, just Scully. The only person who calls me Dana is my mother, and I don't see her often enough to be used to it.
"I told you I don't always do what people tell me--Alex." The name rolls off my tongue like a foreign word. I've written the name Alex Krycek, I've spoken it to various law enforcement officials. But he's always been Krycek. Like I've always been Scully. I think Mulder would say there's a certain psychology behind only referring to people by their last names. Keeps things at a distance, less personal, more objective. And it's true, because when I think of Krycek, I think of spy, assassin, double-agent, murderer, thief. When I think of Alex . . .
I get another whiff of blueberries and my mouth begins to water. I really need that milkshake. I don't think they have blueberry milkshakes. And then it comes, unbidden, a vision of Alex Krycek laid out on this very table wearing nothing but a grin and a strategically placed bowl of berries. And then the bowl tips to the side and the berries spill like marbles over strong thighs, bouncing onto the worn linoleum floor. Oh. My. God.
My breath catches, and a tiny line appears across the bridge of his nose as he frowns, looking like he's trying to read my mind. I pray to God that Krycek's spy abilities are not aided by any type of ESP. What are the rules about kissing suspects in custody? Because if he tilts his head to the side just a little, and I lower my mouth . . .
When I think of Alex I think of a man who maybe isn't all that different from me, who's just on the wrong path. Who maybe would have caught my eye when he was Mulder's partner if I hadn't been so jealous and he hadn't had such bad fashion sense. Who has the most amazing eyes I've ever seen on someone who wasn't an airbrushed model, with stubble and messy hair and know-it-all-smirk that just screams lazy sensuality.
"You didn't answer my question," I whisper. I think I'm going to kiss him. I try to tell myself it's purely an interrogation technique, that I'll be able to get anything out of him after this. But even I'm not that deluded. His nose brushes against my cheek again, and again, and now I can tell he's doing it on purpose, trying to see how close I'll let him get. His eyes are closed, those impossibly long lashes spilling onto his cheeks. But when I feel his mouth brush the corner of mine, I forget all about his eyes.
I think about the fact that I'm with a criminal. I think about losing my job. I think about Mulder standing outside.
"He's a screamer, Dana."
Oh God. I turn my head just enough to catch Krycek's mouth and he makes a startled noise that turns into a low moan as I brush my tongue against his lower lip. His mouth opens under mine and his tongue slides past my teeth. I can't believe I've got my tongue in Alex Krycek's mouth. He tastes like coffee and blueberries. Who needs a milkshake when I've got this?
I want to run my fingers through his too-short hair to see if it's as soft as it looks, but my hands won't release their white knuckled death-grip on the arms of the chair. I'm at once frustrated by, and grateful for, the fact that he's handcuffed. Frustrated because I think I'd like to feel his hands on my body, slipping around my waist, pulling me down into his lap, pressing me against him. Grateful because if he did all that, I'd go from Dana Scully FBI Agent to Dana Scully Wanton Hussy faster than you could say "it's been awhile". If I'm not there already.
This is the man that made love to my partner in order to gain his trust so he could betray him. That doesn't have so much impact as the thought of them together. When Krycek slants his lips over mine and his tongue does a wide sweep of my mouth I can imagine that's what he did to Mulder. Those quiet groans and mumbles he makes into my mouth are the same ones he made into Mulder's mouth. And the way he alternates between kissing my breath away and nibbling at my lips is the way he was with Mulder. It's so dirty. And I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life.
When I groan against his mouth he actually jumps a little. It's the first time I've made a noise and I'm forced back into reality enough to pull out of the kiss. His mouth keeps moving a little, and he leans forward to follow me but is stopped by his restraints. His eyes drift open and they're no longer the glittering green that I admired so much. They're black. His pupils are completely dilated except for the tiniest ring of dark green on the outside. Krycek's broad chest is heaving, and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush as I realize I've been holding my breath. I think that Alex Krycek looking at me like I'm the only woman on earth is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I can't taste anything but blueberries. I'll never look at them the same way again. I'll never look at Mulder the same way again.
God. Mulder! I've got to get out of here. I don't know how long I've been standing like this, staring into Krycek's face. When I pull back it's like a cold gust of wind blows by, and he blinks a few times looking dazed. I dart away to slip on my pumps and turn my back to him, collecting myself before I face Mulder. If I even look a little bit flustered, he'll assume the worst. And I know I'm flushed and breathless. Suddenly, I don't want Mulder to lay another finger on Krycek. Ever.
Krycek clears his throat, and I think he's going to say something so I take a few steps to the door and open it a crack. Mulder's not there. I open it wider and then step into the hallway. One of the officers glances over at me.
"Where's Agent Mulder?" I ask. He looks confused, so I elaborate. "Tall, angry man in an expensive suit?"
"Oh, he left a little while ago. Didn't say where he was going."
"He left?" I don't believe it.
"Yes ma'am. Is everything all right in there?"
Damn. I guess I'm not completely composed. It's almost a good thing that Mulder took off. Then again, it would serve him right. Guess what Mulder? Your precious partner just made out with a criminal. And she liked it. But Mulder isn't here. He took off. I. Don't. Believe. It. He ditched me. Again. Twice in one day. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I go back into the interview room and lean against the closed door. What am I supposed to do with Krycek? I take a few steps toward him.
He doesn't look so relaxed anymore. Pensive. Angry, almost.
"He ditched you again, didn't he?"
I scowl at him. Of course that's what happened, but I'm not going to admit it. Anyway, he probably heard my conversation with the officer outside.
"God damn, that stupid sonofabitch!"
And before I know it, he's moving, and I feel a strong arm around my waist, another reaching inside my jacket to get my gun. This is the type of thing I have nightmares about. But my brain must be fogged because all I note is that there's a distinct bulge pressing against my back. Krycek nudges the barrel of the gun under my chin.
"Not a word now, Agent Scully. I've got to get out of here before Mulder gets himself killed . . ."
Does this mean that Krycek really is telling the truth about trying to protect Mulder? I think back to this morning, when I'd heard that Mulder had captured Krycek. He only gets caught because he wants to. I wonder how long he's had the handcuffs undone. The entire time? When I saw him squirming in the chair? During the kiss, when I was being less than attentive to anything but the feel of his mouth on mine? I've been centimeters away from a felon who could have reached up and broke my neck. He could have taken my gun at any time. He could have grabbed me and . . . The idea should terrify me, but it seems obvious that Krycek has no intention of harming me. His grip is more comfortable than confining, and the gun is only grazing my chin. I tilt my head back just in case, and feel his breath in my hair as he begins to mutter angrily.
"Stupid. I can't believe they think he's such a threat. If they only knew what a dumbass he was . . ."
All I can think about is the smell of leather and berries, and the feel of his body pressed against mine. He is as tall as Mulder, but quicker despite his broader frame. My brain goes off on another tangent, and suddenly I imagine that Krycek is pressed up against Mulder, running his hands over Mulder's lean frame. Mulder is mewling and arching his back and begging--
" . . . too short. You make a lousy hostage." Ah. So that's the master plan. My body relaxes further. I'm not concerned about the gun, since it seems that Krycek only wants to use me as a shield to make his escape. But I'd really rather not be a shield. Plus once I think about his plan, I realize how stupid it is. I guess I'm not the only one who isn't thinking clearly. And if there is some danger to Mulder, I'm gonna be there to stop it.
"Is Mulder really in trouble?"
"What? Yes. They don't want him investigating this case, and you know how he makes those incredible intuitive leaps with only shreds of evidence. If only you realized how right he is most of the time--"
I don't really want to hear that. Plus I'm getting impatient. "Give me my gun."
"What?"
"Give me my gun."
"So you can shoot me? You're crazy!"
"There's more than one way out of a police station you know."
As understanding sinks in his hold on me loosens and the gun drops. There are about thirty ways that I could disable him right now. And I know they work. I've used almost all of them since being assigned to the X-files. But unlike Mulder, I have no overwhelming desire to harm Krycek. When I turn to look at him, his hand remains on my waist. He stares at me for a beat, obviously trying to figure out if this is some sort of trick. Finally he hands the gun back.
I tilt my chin toward the chair. "Now put on the cuffs."
"Sounds kinky," he grins. "Who knew Dana Scully was into bondage?"
I swear it's like I just shocked him with a cattle prod. He stiffens and the grin disappears. Guess he wasn't expecting that one. I slide off the table onto the cold linoleum, and there's enough room between him and the table that I can stand comfortably in front of him. I brace my hands on either side of the chair and lean toward him.
"Did you turn him down?"
Krycek's glittering green eyes widen in surprise--he doesn't even bother to point out the fact that I've asked two questions. Unfortunately, he hasn't answered either of them. I try again.
"Did he turn you down?"
I've been to Mulder's apartment enough times to catch a glimpse of his 'video' collection. And let me tell you, it's not all het. In fact, het would be in the minority. Krycek swallows, moves his head back slightly to get away, but there's really no place for him to go.
"I tried to seduce him to gain his trust," he says. Now his voice is downright hoarse. Wonder if I'm doing that?
"And?" I can pretty much figure it out on my own from here, but I still want to hear it.
"And he fell for it. But then he found out I wasn't gay . . ."
Yeah, that's what I had figured. I'm not a Special Agent for nothing. My fine detective skills also notice the direction that Krycek's gaze is taking. I'd forgotten about my blouse. I almost pull away before deciding that I can use this to my advantage. Lucky for you I wore a really nice bra today. Hope you appreciate it. And he seems to. Appreciate it, I mean. His breathing is a bit quicker, short puffs against my chin. I can smell berries. Krycek must have eaten a blueberry muffin in the past hour.
When AD Skinner accidentally looked down my blouse that morning it was like he wished he'd never seen anything. But Krycek--Krycek looks like he wants to take a bite out of me. He actually licks his lips. It's been a long time since a man looked at me that way. Especially since I started working with Mulder. This would be a really bad time for Mulder to come back in. He's bound to get curious soon because he's been out in the hallway for a half hour. The man has the patience of a Christmas Eve crowd at Barney's. So I ask the thing that I'm really curious about.
"And how far did your seduction go?"
His eyes snap up to mine. There's all sorts of interesting emotions swirling around in them. Confusion. Respect. Wariness. Desire. Amusement. I think he actually leans toward me. His nose brushes my cheek, just for an instant.
"That's five questions. You're not playing by the rules, Dana."
I have to admit that his use of my first name startles me. All through med school I was Ms. Scully and then Dr. Scully. In Quantico I was Cadet Scully, then Agent Scully, and finally, just Scully. The only person who calls me Dana is my mother, and I don't see her often enough to be used to it.
"I told you I don't always do what people tell me--Alex." The name rolls off my tongue like a foreign word. I've written the name Alex Krycek, I've spoken it to various law enforcement officials. But he's always been Krycek. Like I've always been Scully. I think Mulder would say there's a certain psychology behind only referring to people by their last names. Keeps things at a distance, less personal, more objective. And it's true, because when I think of Krycek, I think of spy, assassin, double-agent, murderer, thief. When I think of Alex . . .
I get another whiff of blueberries and my mouth begins to water. I really need that milkshake. I don't think they have blueberry milkshakes. And then it comes, unbidden, a vision of Alex Krycek laid out on this very table wearing nothing but a grin and a strategically placed bowl of berries. And then the bowl tips to the side and the berries spill like marbles over strong thighs, bouncing onto the worn linoleum floor. Oh. My. God.
My breath catches, and a tiny line appears across the bridge of his nose as he frowns, looking like he's trying to read my mind. I pray to God that Krycek's spy abilities are not aided by any type of ESP. What are the rules about kissing suspects in custody? Because if he tilts his head to the side just a little, and I lower my mouth . . .
When I think of Alex I think of a man who maybe isn't all that different from me, who's just on the wrong path. Who maybe would have caught my eye when he was Mulder's partner if I hadn't been so jealous and he hadn't had such bad fashion sense. Who has the most amazing eyes I've ever seen on someone who wasn't an airbrushed model, with stubble and messy hair and know-it-all-smirk that just screams lazy sensuality.
"You didn't answer my question," I whisper. I think I'm going to kiss him. I try to tell myself it's purely an interrogation technique, that I'll be able to get anything out of him after this. But even I'm not that deluded. His nose brushes against my cheek again, and again, and now I can tell he's doing it on purpose, trying to see how close I'll let him get. His eyes are closed, those impossibly long lashes spilling onto his cheeks. But when I feel his mouth brush the corner of mine, I forget all about his eyes.
I think about the fact that I'm with a criminal. I think about losing my job. I think about Mulder standing outside.
"He's a screamer, Dana."
Oh God. I turn my head just enough to catch Krycek's mouth and he makes a startled noise that turns into a low moan as I brush my tongue against his lower lip. His mouth opens under mine and his tongue slides past my teeth. I can't believe I've got my tongue in Alex Krycek's mouth. He tastes like coffee and blueberries. Who needs a milkshake when I've got this?
I want to run my fingers through his too-short hair to see if it's as soft as it looks, but my hands won't release their white knuckled death-grip on the arms of the chair. I'm at once frustrated by, and grateful for, the fact that he's handcuffed. Frustrated because I think I'd like to feel his hands on my body, slipping around my waist, pulling me down into his lap, pressing me against him. Grateful because if he did all that, I'd go from Dana Scully FBI Agent to Dana Scully Wanton Hussy faster than you could say "it's been awhile". If I'm not there already.
This is the man that made love to my partner in order to gain his trust so he could betray him. That doesn't have so much impact as the thought of them together. When Krycek slants his lips over mine and his tongue does a wide sweep of my mouth I can imagine that's what he did to Mulder. Those quiet groans and mumbles he makes into my mouth are the same ones he made into Mulder's mouth. And the way he alternates between kissing my breath away and nibbling at my lips is the way he was with Mulder. It's so dirty. And I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life.
When I groan against his mouth he actually jumps a little. It's the first time I've made a noise and I'm forced back into reality enough to pull out of the kiss. His mouth keeps moving a little, and he leans forward to follow me but is stopped by his restraints. His eyes drift open and they're no longer the glittering green that I admired so much. They're black. His pupils are completely dilated except for the tiniest ring of dark green on the outside. Krycek's broad chest is heaving, and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush as I realize I've been holding my breath. I think that Alex Krycek looking at me like I'm the only woman on earth is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I can't taste anything but blueberries. I'll never look at them the same way again. I'll never look at Mulder the same way again.
God. Mulder! I've got to get out of here. I don't know how long I've been standing like this, staring into Krycek's face. When I pull back it's like a cold gust of wind blows by, and he blinks a few times looking dazed. I dart away to slip on my pumps and turn my back to him, collecting myself before I face Mulder. If I even look a little bit flustered, he'll assume the worst. And I know I'm flushed and breathless. Suddenly, I don't want Mulder to lay another finger on Krycek. Ever.
Krycek clears his throat, and I think he's going to say something so I take a few steps to the door and open it a crack. Mulder's not there. I open it wider and then step into the hallway. One of the officers glances over at me.
"Where's Agent Mulder?" I ask. He looks confused, so I elaborate. "Tall, angry man in an expensive suit?"
"Oh, he left a little while ago. Didn't say where he was going."
"He left?" I don't believe it.
"Yes ma'am. Is everything all right in there?"
Damn. I guess I'm not completely composed. It's almost a good thing that Mulder took off. Then again, it would serve him right. Guess what Mulder? Your precious partner just made out with a criminal. And she liked it. But Mulder isn't here. He took off. I. Don't. Believe. It. He ditched me. Again. Twice in one day. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I go back into the interview room and lean against the closed door. What am I supposed to do with Krycek? I take a few steps toward him.
He doesn't look so relaxed anymore. Pensive. Angry, almost.
"He ditched you again, didn't he?"
I scowl at him. Of course that's what happened, but I'm not going to admit it. Anyway, he probably heard my conversation with the officer outside.
"God damn, that stupid sonofabitch!"
And before I know it, he's moving, and I feel a strong arm around my waist, another reaching inside my jacket to get my gun. This is the type of thing I have nightmares about. But my brain must be fogged because all I note is that there's a distinct bulge pressing against my back. Krycek nudges the barrel of the gun under my chin.
"Not a word now, Agent Scully. I've got to get out of here before Mulder gets himself killed . . ."
Does this mean that Krycek really is telling the truth about trying to protect Mulder? I think back to this morning, when I'd heard that Mulder had captured Krycek. He only gets caught because he wants to. I wonder how long he's had the handcuffs undone. The entire time? When I saw him squirming in the chair? During the kiss, when I was being less than attentive to anything but the feel of his mouth on mine? I've been centimeters away from a felon who could have reached up and broke my neck. He could have taken my gun at any time. He could have grabbed me and . . . The idea should terrify me, but it seems obvious that Krycek has no intention of harming me. His grip is more comfortable than confining, and the gun is only grazing my chin. I tilt my head back just in case, and feel his breath in my hair as he begins to mutter angrily.
"Stupid. I can't believe they think he's such a threat. If they only knew what a dumbass he was . . ."
All I can think about is the smell of leather and berries, and the feel of his body pressed against mine. He is as tall as Mulder, but quicker despite his broader frame. My brain goes off on another tangent, and suddenly I imagine that Krycek is pressed up against Mulder, running his hands over Mulder's lean frame. Mulder is mewling and arching his back and begging--
" . . . too short. You make a lousy hostage." Ah. So that's the master plan. My body relaxes further. I'm not concerned about the gun, since it seems that Krycek only wants to use me as a shield to make his escape. But I'd really rather not be a shield. Plus once I think about his plan, I realize how stupid it is. I guess I'm not the only one who isn't thinking clearly. And if there is some danger to Mulder, I'm gonna be there to stop it.
"Is Mulder really in trouble?"
"What? Yes. They don't want him investigating this case, and you know how he makes those incredible intuitive leaps with only shreds of evidence. If only you realized how right he is most of the time--"
I don't really want to hear that. Plus I'm getting impatient. "Give me my gun."
"What?"
"Give me my gun."
"So you can shoot me? You're crazy!"
"There's more than one way out of a police station you know."
As understanding sinks in his hold on me loosens and the gun drops. There are about thirty ways that I could disable him right now. And I know they work. I've used almost all of them since being assigned to the X-files. But unlike Mulder, I have no overwhelming desire to harm Krycek. When I turn to look at him, his hand remains on my waist. He stares at me for a beat, obviously trying to figure out if this is some sort of trick. Finally he hands the gun back.
I tilt my chin toward the chair. "Now put on the cuffs."
"Sounds kinky," he grins. "Who knew Dana Scully was into bondage?"