Bisexual Mulder as Fox Mulder
Alien Supersoldier as Alex Krycek
xxx
There's a knock on the door.
It must be Krycek's neighbour, bringing him soup again. Or, maybe they have found him at last. He's too weak to get up from the bed anyway.
For the past six hours Krycek has been slipping in and out of consciousness - courtesy of the morphine he found in the medicine cabinet. Sometimes, his own forethought surprises him. He never thought he'd be back in this apartment. Not under these circumstances, anyhow.
Once Krycek had made sure that Erica was safely out of the country, he had weighed his options: stay in Moscow and hide like a rat until they find you (and they will), stay and fight (but you're one against a whole fucking syndicate of pissed-off Russian state secret dealers), or get fake documents and get out of the country through less official channels. Krycek, being Krycek, had chosen door number three. But - sorry player! You have chosen poorly, and now there are five Incredible Hulks dressed in bad suits waiting outside the door of the same guy who just made you a fake passport.
They took him as far as the underground parking, and when Krycek saw the van with tinted windows (those guys have seen way too many action movies), he knew they weren't gonna kill him on the spot. Since they didn't answer any of his questions, he had to guess where they were taking him. His guess? Nowhere he'd like to be.
He didn't know that he still had it in him. He'd gone soft. Civilian. He hadn't raised his weapon in years, not even in self-defense. While fighting off the comically burly baddies, he hadn't had the time to reflect on how easy it was to slip back into the old state of being. How natural it all felt: the pain, the blood, the weight of the gun in his hand. The way they look when they realise they're already gone.
He should probably sit down (or up) and think about what just happened, but he is grateful for the morphine because it prevents him from thinking for more than a few minutes at a time (I left something there. What was it?)
His wallet. How do you lose your wallet? If those guys find the wallet… but he didn't have anything of any value there. Just a receipt. A receipt from the shawarma place. The shawarma place that's in his building. That's like dressing up like a Christmas tree and singing Jingle Bells on top of the Ostankino TV tower. There was something else there too, a little trinket he had bought at the airport. But it broke while he was getting his ribs rearranged.
Another knock. More tentative this time. Krycek opens his eyes: it's almost night time now (how long have I been out for?). The morphine must have worn off because he feels more lucid, but the pain is coming back with a vengeance.
The knocking continues. He peels himself off the bed, takes his gun, and slowly approaches the door. He takes a peek into the peep hole, afraid of what he will see outside.
xxx
Mulder stands outside the apartment door, clutching Alex Krycek's wallet in one hand, bracing his other to knock. What is he even doing here? Had he even thought this through before jumping on an airplane and flying across the world to supposedly "rescue" this man who had been his enemy for so long?
But after the events of that night he just couldn't get Alex Krycek out of his head. Of course Scully had stepped in (again) after he'd fucked up the whole encounter. Despite the fact that he had still been working off quite a few drinks, he could still visualize the conversation with his wife quite clearly.
...
"You...WHAT!?" Scully nearly spat out her own drink, holding back laughter. She was sprawled out on the sofa across from him, glass of wine in hand. He was sitting in an armchair, his head in his hands.
"He told me he was in love with me, Scully. I just sort of… went with it," Mulder shrugged, now regretting his earlier actions for even more reasons. "I...was also a bit drunk."
"So...you assaulted him? With your lips?"
Mulder grimaced, looking up at Scully, pressing a hand nervously to his chin. He had hoped that Scully would be helpful, but it appeared he was going to have to endure a fair share of ridicule for his actions first.
"Look, it sounds terrible when you put it that way. I don't know what came over me, I'm just so used to...beating the crap out of him," he shrugged, "didn't seem like the right thing to do to a man that just confessed his undying love, so…I tried something else."
The two of them held each other's gaze for a moment, and as Mulder saw the glint in Scully's eye, he knew she was about to laugh. He couldn't help himself. One giggle from his wife and he lost it, they both started laughing. She was right, the whole thing was just ridiculous.
"Scully, I made out with Alex Krycek," he ran both hands through his hair, "Alex FUCKING Krycek!"
After a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter that brought tears to both of their eyes, Mulder found himself gasping for breath. He leaned back in the chair and took a few deep breaths as Scully continued to giggle over her glass of wine. It was pretty ridiculous now that he thought about it, but still...it had felt so real. So sincere. And how the encounter had ended lingered in his mind. His face fell. As the laughter faded, he could sense the feeling that he had done something awful coming back to him.
"But then I left. He confessed everything to me, Scully. After all these years, he admitted to me that he had killed my father. Told me it was an order that he was given that he carried out. He almost left after that but I had to know why he had come. Then he sat down, and I swear to god in the most honest tone I've ever heard come out of that man he told me that he had always loved me..." Mulder faltered for a moment, not quite believing the words coming out of his own mouth, "and I kissed him. I just, it was such an honest moment from him and I felt I had to do something. I didn't know what to say to him. But then I realized what it might mean and I ran, Scully. I just left the man standing there."
Scully frowned thoughtfully, clearly also feeling how disappointed in himself he felt in that moment. She leaned forward and set her glass down on the table.
"Mulder," he looked up at her, knowing her tone and that she was about to bestow upon him some of her best Scully wisdom, "I cannot pretend that I understand how you're feeling, honestly I'm still processing it myself. Alex Krycek, the same man that tried to kill each one of us and double-crossed every single person he ever spoke to, confesses love? To you of all people? I'm struggling to believe it just because of who he is, or was, I suppose. But I can tell this means a lot to you, and I know you're capable of telling when that man is lying, so if you think he was telling the truth then I believe you." She watched as he held the little snow globe from Krycek in his hands, looking like his eyes might fIll with tears again.
Scully got up and walked over to her husband, kneeling down on the floor in front of him and putting her hands softly on his. Their eyes met and she looked at him in that way she did when she could see right through him.
"Mulder?" She raised her eyebrows, looking at him expectantly, "do you have feelings for him too? Is that why this is bothering you so much?"
He took a deep breath and grasped her hand.
"Scully, I…" and the way he looked at her must've answered her question, because she leaned upwards and pulled him into the tightest hug, and the tears just started to fall. He couldn't help himself. All of the emotions of the night came rushing out all at once, and Scully's embrace made him feel so completely safe that he just let go.
For a few moments Scully held him tightly, rubbing his back gently with one hand, her fingers running through the hair on the top of his head with the other. "It's alright, Mulder, I'm here, and we will figure this out together."
He lifted his head, and rested his forehead on her shoulder, the tears still streaming down his face. "All those years Scully, and I think I knew. It's just... we were always on opposite sides, it was easier just to fight. But I always wondered deep down if he really hated that life. Sometimes he would look at me and...I don't know. I thought maybe I saw something deep down in there. He was just always too busy trying to get me killed so…" he smiled and let out a short laugh, "I can't believe I'm actually, seriously, considering that ...god Scully the things that that man and I have been through...the things we've done to each other," he ran a nervous hand through his hair again.
Her eyes had that glint in them again, and he wasn't sure if it was the wine. "And..what have you done to each other?" She giggled a little, her mouth at his ear.
Mulder sat up and rolled his eyes, "you're a little too into this, Scully, if I didn't know better.."
"-oh come on Mulder, you have to admit it's pretty romantic. Sworn enemy comes out of hiding after all these years to confess he's in love with you? I have to admit, I was just joking that he was obsessed with you, but, it is pretty sweet." She reached behind her and grabbed her glass from the table.
"So this kiss," Scully raised an eyebrow (so we were back to taunting, Mulder thought), "was it, good?"
Mulder bowed his head and rubbed his neck with one hand, clearly embarrassed by the question.
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Scully, this isn't helping."
"What? I need to know what we're working with here! I'm not gonna waste my time over a little peck on the lips but if you seriously rocked this man's world you may have your work cut out for you."
Another pause.
Mulder squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, "I just let him have it, Scully."
She raised her eyebrows.
Mulder exhaled and leaned his head back in the chair. "I threw him up against the wall, it was pretty...forceful."
Scully started giggling again as she sipped her wine. "Wow, Mulder, should I be jealous?" She cocked an eyebrow and her tone was pure sass, but Mulder's expression looked pained.
"Scully I-" but she stopped him, holding a finger to his lips.
"Mulder, I'm joking. I don't give a rat's ass what you do, you know that. I just don't like seeing you hurt. And if anyone has a history of hurting you it's, well…" she trailed off gesturing with her hands in the air.
"-Krycek, yeah, I know. He just seems like he is finally turning a new leaf. Coming clean. And I respect that," Mulder reached up and pulled at his lip, contemplating. "So, now what, Scully? What do I do?"
She looked at him thoughtfully, taking a sip of her wine.
"What do you want to do? It sounds like he's gonna be pretty upset with you, can you live with that? Just let him go?"
Silence.
"Yeah I didn't think so. Mulder, I think you need to find a way to tell him that you weren't taking advantage of him. If you do really care about how he feels, and I think you do, then you need to tell him to make it right."
"Scully?"
"Yes?"
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
She smirked and downed the rest of her wine before setting the glass down again to lean in close and gently kiss her husband.
She cupped his chin in her hands, looked in his eyes, and smiled.
"You tell that man if he breaks your heart I'll break his face."
...
Now, in the dim lighting of an unfamiliar hallway in Russia, Mulder smiles to himself remembering her last remark. She was right, of course, he did feel he had to make it up to the man, but then Krycek had gone and pulled all this weirdness with the Russia trip...and got himself fucking kidnapped!
In preparation he had brought them both some fake passports so they could make a speedy escape if necessary, and also ditched Krycek's friend Erica's phone - because if he had been able to track it, surely someone else would also. He purchased a cheap burner phone with cash in its stead, knowing that Krycek would need some other way to communicate. He just hoped this entire thing hadn't been a setup, not knowing the entire story behind whatever trouble Krycek was in.
Mulder glances down at the evidence he has collected: Krycek's wallet (really, no fake ID? C'mon Krycek, you're losing your touch) from the place he was last seen (although by a questionable source), a receipt for a restaurant in this very building (found in said wallet), and what looked like the broken pieces of a snow globe (sigh). Making his way to the building had been relatively easy, though getting the cab driver to take him without speaking Russian had been a struggle, and finding the exact apartment was a bit tricky. There was some shoddy video surveillance at the place, CCTV wasn't super clear, but he also didn't want the sketchy security man to know who he was looking for. He saw someone who looked like Krycek enter the building and come up to this floor, but the video lost him around a corner leaving him with one of two door options.
Now with these items in hand, Mulder stands outside an apartment door, green paint peeling from age, and it's too late to turn back.
He sincerely hopes the man he is looking for is on the other side (and alive), even if he's still not quite sure what he's doing here. All he knows is, Krycek seemed like he needed him, and his own goddamn desire to do right by a man who had come clean to him wouldn't allow him let this go without trying. (If you could call flying across the entire world, threatening some shady Russian bad guys, and finding a lost wallet "trying.")
Exhaling and shaking off his doubts, Mulder lifts his hand to knock on the door. Nothing. He knocks again, and hears movement from the other side.
Bracing himself for what he might find on the other side, he puts his hand on his weapon, but when hears the lock slide and the door open just barely an inch, still chained, he sees just a glimpse of the man he is looking for on the other side. A wave of relief washes over him.
"Just here to return a lost wallet," he says, holding up the wallet and offering a sideways smile.
xxx
As Krycek sat on the subway train, trying to look as inconspicuous as his bloodied, disheveled appearance would let him, his mind was occupied with one thing: get to his aunt's apartment before he was found again. Or before he bled to death.
The good thing about the Moscow subway is that the people down there are too exhausted after a long day's work to look around and notice the weirdness surrounding them every day. For instance, they didn't see the strange man in a leather jacket that had gone out of fashion fifteen years ago, and whose guts were bleeding out on the floor, drop by searing drop. But that didn't mean he stopped looking around, looking for one of Yustinov's armed refrigerators in the crowd. He was certain he had shaken them off, but he had already lost his vigilance once this week, and look where it had gotten him.
He woke up with a start, still in the seat. He had passed out. This was not a good place to have passed out. Nor the right time. Instinctively he reached for the gun hidden under his jacket, but recoiled when he saw the familiar face looming over him.
"Aleksei Nikola'ich? I knew it was you!" the young girl was smiling, "I haven't seen you in ages. You look terrible. Now, come on, or we're gonna miss our station! Grandma is making her world famous mushroom soup."
Krycek didn't want to be seen with Alina - that's one more person whose life he'd be gambling with. And she was just a kid. But there was no way he could get rid of her now that she had found him. They exited the train, and left the station without any more surprises. But when Alina saw that Krycek was hurt, she insisted on walking him to his door. "I'll bring you some of Grandma's soup. Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"
Krycek smiled feebly, thanked the girl for her help, and closed the door behind him. Only when he was safely alone, in his own apartment, did Krycek allow himself a long, ragged breath, followed by an embarrassingly loud groan.
He stalked to the bathroom, turned on the light, and took a look in the mirror. What he saw did not surprise him. Bruises, cuts, a bloodied nose - it was almost normal for "Aleksei Nikola'ich." He was still a handsome devil, even if the right side of his face was swelling up like a ripe tomato.
He took off his leather jacket, slowly, and saw that it had a hole on the side, where the knife had got him. Fucking hell! That was his favourite jacket. That's the one he was wearing when- Krycek shook his head violently, trying to get the flashes of his last night with Mulder out of his mind. He had more pressing issues at hand.
The jacket might have saved his life: the stab wound wasn't as deep as it was intended, and he didn't lose that much blood. Krycek let the shower run, stripped naked, and unfastened his prosthetic arm. How many times did he have to patch himself up like this? How many times did he have to do it one-armed? He never got to stop and think that this wasn't normal. Not for an average Joe, anyway. Jesus Christ, even Mulder had Scully to stitch up his wounds.
He took a more thorough look at his own naked form. He still looked good, but his body seemed… tired. Like all the beating he had endured, all the pain and the sleepless nights had changed his body into something he didn't quite recognise. His flesh had soaked up every bit of violence and cruelty he had inflicted on others. Was it strange that he felt like all the pain he had caused his victims had somehow imprinted itself on his own body as well?
Krycek forced himself out of his reverie: this was not a time for regretful introspection. Swallowing hard, he stepped into the shower, hoping that the rush of the water would drown out his pathetic sobs.
When he gets to the door he realises he's still without his prosthetic. Not that it would help in a fight. He dares a look in the peephole, half-expecting to see the barrel of an assassin's Glock, but what he sees is even more surprising. Mulder? He has to will his heart to stop beating so fast, because surely, this isn't happening? A part of him wants to tear the door off its hinges and give Mulder the welcome he deserves. But he has to be careful. He has to be. He puts the gun down on the side table in the hallway, and cracks the door open, without removing the chain.
"Just here to return a lost wallet," Mulder says with a disarming little smirk, but Krycek sees his own suspicion and anxieties reflected in the man's tired face.
"Mulder? What- are you here alone?" this is not how he wants to greet Mulder, who has just flown halfway across the globe. Not how he had imagined their reunion to go (a couple of thousand times since the bar).
When Mulder reassures him that he is, in fact, very much alone, and very much needs to take a leak because he hasn't stopped for a restroom break since he left the airport, Krycek closes the door and unfastens the chain. In the privacy that this little interlude is providing him, Krycek allows himself a tiny smile.
He opens the door, and standing halfway behind it - there still may be bad guys hiding in the shadows - he gestures Mulder inside. "Mulder, what are you doing here?"
xxx
The look on Krycek's face alone is almost worth the entire trip. Mulder watches the man try to contain his shock as he peers out from behind the door.
"Mulder? What - Are you here alone?"
Mulder almost laughs at the question, but knowing full well why Krycek is asking it, "Well it's not like anyone else was about to fly out here on a whim." With a subtle eye roll from Krycek, Mulder chuckles, "Despite their best efforts to track me, no I don't believe I was followed, though I can't say for sure what that cabby yelled at me on my way out the door but I'm pretty sure it wasn't nice. Something about me being a dumb American, I think. Speaking of which, you don't happen to be hiding a bathroom in there do you? I haven't been able to take a piss since I touched down." Mulder makes a face to get the point across, and waits for Krycek to unchain the door.
Krycek opens the door cautiously, and Mulder steps inside the hallway of the apartment.
"Mulder, what are you doing here?" Krycek asks, closing the door and re-locking, bolting, and chaining all the security features. Watching him complete this tedious process with one arm, Mulder realizes just how unprepared Krycek really is for his appearance when he sees that he isn't even wearing his prosthetic.
"Guess 'I was just in town and thought I'd stop by' isn't going to cut it, huh?" Mulder gives another sideways smile as Krycek turns to face him. He had thought about this moment countless times on the plane, unsure of what sort of condition he'd find Krycek in. Thankfully he's in one piece, though despite his cleaned-up white T-shirt appearance, the scrapes and bruises on his face proved Mulder had most likely made the right decision to come. He wonders what other wounds he is hiding if his face is that beat up.
"Look, you asked for my help, and then you disappeared. I'm not trying to say that I was worried but - let's just say the guy who took your phone and pretended to be you gave off bad vibes. Speaking of-" Mulder reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cheap replacement phone he has brought along, and holds it out to Krycek, "I brought you a replacement. Thought you might be missing your fans." he gives a comforting smile with a little wink for pizzazz. Krycek looks at him like he might've just been hit by a truck (or seen a ghost) and Mulder starts to wonder if it is too much - did he overstep his bounds again? Did Krycek even want his help? He hopes he hasn't misread the situation, because it's too late to take it back now.
There is a pause, and Mulder tries his best to read the expression on Krycek's face, "Look Krycek, I don't know exactly what you have going on, but I thought maybe you could use a friend."
xxx
(Mulder, you shouldn't have come here!) is the first thing that comes to Krycek's mind when he lets the man inside. He bolts the door closed, while Mulder is going on and on about his adventures. He's all charm and smiles: in other words, he's Mulder. But if Krycek knows Mulder just a little bit he can tell all this joking and jabbing is a way to hide his nervousness. Mulder's nervous. Krycek should say something.
He almost does, but then Mulder reaches into his pocket and takes out a phone, "I bought you a replacement. Thought you might be missing your fans," he chides and holds the phone out to Krycek, a stupid insecure grin on his face. After a few seconds of agonizing silence, Mulder says, dropping the Prince Charming act, "Look, Krycek, I don't know exactly what you have going on, but I thought maybe you could use a friend."
Krycek takes the phone that Mulder has been holding out to him this whole time. Weighs it in his hand, "This-" he cuts himself off when he feels oncoming tears. He takes a few breaths to compose himself, puts the phone away in his pants pocket, and says, quietly, "let me show you where the bathroom is."
He leads Mulder through the hallway, and it registers with him that this is the first time Mulder is seeing this side of his life. (Bet you didn't know I had a secret apartment in Moscow!) He feels strangely naked letting Mulder see the outdated Soviet-style interior, the photos on the walls. This apartment doesn't exactly scream Alex Krycek - he left this world behind when he was just a child - but it is a bit of his home. A part of the history that feels distant and close to his heart at the same time.
Krycek opens the bathroom door and turns on the light. For a moment they're both standing there, at the threshold, in silence. He isn't looking at Mulder, but he feels the other man's eyes on him, and he can only imagine what Mulder is thinking. That he shouldn't have come here. That he just flew to the other side of the world, risking his life and wasting money on tickets and burner phones only to be greeted with stunned silence. Krycek has tried to say something in the past five minutes, he really has, but every time he tries to put his feelings into words he gets choked up, and he can't have that. He's not good at being vulnerable, especially when Mulder has already seen his physical state. He has to keep up some facade of toughness. For his own sake.
But, when Krycek looks at Mulder and sees the uncertainty (and fear) written on the other man's face, he gives in. He still can't bring himself to say anything that won't sound defensive or pathetic, but maybe he doesn't have to. Taking a little step to close the distance between them, Krycek puts his arm around Mulder and pulls him close. He's risking everything right now: his pride, his manhood, his ego (what's left of it). Not to mention, if Mulder will hug him back, he'll risk exposing the giant hole in his left side, too. But he wants this. Oh, God, how he wants this...
xxx
It takes a moment, Mulder thinks, for the realization to sink in for Krycek. He's rambled for several minutes now and Krycek has yet to say a word. Finally he takes the phone that's been offered and it feels like some sort of acceptance. Mulder watches as Krycek studies it in his hand, thinking. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops, and Mulder can tell he's holding something back. Is it...tears?
Not wanting to impose any more than he already has, Mulder waits for Krycek to compose himself. But when the words finally come, they are avoidant: "Let me show you where the bathroom is."
Mulder chews the inside of his lip and clenches his jaw. He's sure Krycek is having a hard time with the surprise of him showing up like it's a Tuesday, but Mulder's still unsure if it's because it's unwanted or if Krycek is just unfamiliar with kindness. This sort of action is typical of Mulder, so should it really be that much of a surprise? (Only if you don't expect anyone to care about you!) The realization of this hits Mulder hard. He doesn't want to assume too much, so he follows Krycek without another word.
It is fascinating to see this side of him: whose apartment is this? Did he grow up here? Mulder gently runs his fingers along the wall as they walk, feeling the age of the paint, and realizes how little he knows about the man he's come to help. (outside of their run-ins with shadowy government figures, of course.) What was Krycek really like outside of all that? How did he even get involved in that life if he started here?
All these questions start spinning around in Mulder's head as they reach what must be the bathroom and Krycek opens the door. He turns on the light, and hesitates for a moment, not meeting Mulder's gaze. He's clearly struggling with whatever's on his mind.
Mulder can't help but continue to look at the man standing in front of him, a broken version of the man he used to use as a punching bag for fun. A face he'd sooner punch than look at for more than a few seconds, now stirs different emotions inside Mulder as Krycek finally looks up at him. Still unable to meet his gaze, Krycek steps towards him, and for a second Mulder is unsure of what is about to happen, but then - probably the best possible reaction he could've hoped for.
Krycek hugs him.
It's an awkward, uncertain, one-armed hug, but clearly an honest display of gratitude from a man who's been speechless since he answered the door, and Mulder is instantly relieved.
The relief spreads like warmth over Mulder, and he's grateful that Krycek can't see the surprise on his own face at that moment because he can't help the grin that involuntarily appears. (Finally.) Not wanting to let the gesture go unwelcomed, Mulder steps in closer and slowly wraps his arms around Krycek, pulling him tightly against his chest. He's well aware what a good hug can do, as Scully has gotten the best of him by doing just that. Clearly words aren't Krycek's strong point, so if this is the best chance he's going to get to communicate with him, he's going to take it. Feeling Krycek rest his head on Mulder''s shoulder due to the tightness of the hug, Mulder feels his heart melt a little. He has no idea what this will mean, but he came all the way here to be supportive, so that's what he's going to do.
Letting the smile settle on his lips and his own chin come to rest on Krycek's shoulder, Mulder closes his eyes and gives the man a gentle squeeze. He does really have to pee, but he isn't going to rush this moment before Krycek gets what he needs from it.
xxx
Krycek fills the electric kettle up with water and turns it on. He gets the cups from the cupboard and gives them a light rinse. He hasn't had the time to do proper shopping, but there's tea in the pantry from his last visit. And chocolate chip cookies. Those don't have an expiration date, right? Krycek once survived a week in the sewers of New York City with nothing but a box of Graham crackers. Even if he were in any shape to go to the store, he wouldn't risk it. This place has been his last refuge, and if Yustinov's cro-magnons find out about it, he will have nowhere else to go.
For a moment, he gives himself permission to forget about the price on his head. Maybe not forget, but compartmentalise. Luckily, compartmentalising is Alex Krycek's speciality. And no, he's not out of the woods yet, but now that he's not alone his odds got just a little bit better. Now that Mulder is here. Mulder, who's in his home right now. Unless this is all a fever dream. It has to be. Krycek is still passed out on the bed, delirious from the morphine and the exhaustion.
Certainly, he must have dreamt that moment in the hallway. That hug. It took every last bit of Krycek's courage to go for that hug. To traverse the space between himself and Mulder and embrace him like it was something normal. Like he wasn't putting his pride and his bruised ego on the line. He had already made a fool of himself once before, and he was positively terrified he was about to do it again. That he was killing his and Mulder's newfound friendship by putting his arm around him.
But then, Mulder had hugged him back. That son of a bitch hugged him back! And when that happened Krycek panicked. It took every bit of courage he didn't have to not break away from the hug; to let himself be held. He almost failed, and as if sensing Krycek's panic, Mulder had held him tighter. This was real to him, too, then. It had to be. This is what friends do, don't they? They hug. They help each other. They get to be vulnerable around each other. Krycek could do this. He could put his head on his friend's shoulder, knowing that Mulder wouldn't push him away, or laugh at him. Or hurt him again.
While the tea kettle is warming up, Krycek goes to the bedroom and gets his prosthetic. He fastens it back on, feeling more like himself again. While the pain in his side is still sharp and loud, he doesn't feel like he's going to pass out again. He should probably lay off the morphine for the time being, though. Stick to Ibuprofen, probably. Going back to the kitchen, Krycek swears under his breath when he remembers that he left the empty morphine ampule in the sink.
xxx
Mulder stands with his back against the bathroom door, rubbing the bridge of his nose. What was happening? Was Krycek happy he was here after all? When Krycek had hugged him he thought for sure that was it, but then the moment ended and Krycek was still quiet. Mulder knew he was vulnerable, but how were they supposed to get anywhere if Krycek couldn't even speak to him? He sighs. (Patience, Mulder. He's been through a lot, probably more than you know.)
Feeling his own physical discomfort - the pain in his bladder - he remembers where he is. (bathroom, right.) Crossing the bathroom, he notices something on the sink, but goes about his business quickly first (I'm never leaving an airport without taking a leak ever again.) Finally he turns to the sink to wash his hands, and examines the broken glass on the counter. (Morphine? Krycek, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?) He scrubs his hands of the public transport grime, and considers how best to approach questioning Krycek about his injuries...and what sort of trouble he is in in general. Obviously Mulder knew someone had it out for him, but not much else, and Krycek had a history of responding poorly to direct questioning. How could he get Krycek to trust him?
He dries his hands on a hand towel that looks about as old as he is, and exits the bathroom, making his way to the kitchen where he can hear Krycek's movements.
When he reaches the kitchen he is struck by the visual, Krycek (now with his prosthetic) is making tea. For the two of them. He almost has to stop himself from laughing as the peculiar setting dawns on him. Of course this would be normal for anyone else, but this isn't anyone. This is Alex Krycek. They might as well be in the Twilight Zone.
Mulder takes a seat as the electric kettle clicks itself off, and waits as Krycek pours the water into some cups. He could say something, but he's already done most of the talking. He observes Krycek's movements as he traverses about the kitchen with his back to him, trying to figure out how badly he's hurt, but whatever it is, he seems to be hiding it well.
Finally, Krycek turns and his eyes meet Mulder's as he sets the tea cup on the table in front of him. Mulder can't help it, the curiosity is burning a hole in his frontal lobe.
"How badly are you hurt, Krycek?" Mulder blurts out, cursing his inability to come up with something smoother, knowing Krycek will probably downplay whatever is going on. (At least he was smart enough not to make it a yes or no question.) Kycek has to realize why Mulder is asking, he left the evidence right out for him to see.
He holds the other man's gaze, sliding the tea cup that has been offered to him closer, and trying not to sound overly concerned (but he is).
xxx
Krycek's back is turned to the door, but he hears Mulder come in. The man's gaze is hot on his back as Mulder watches his former enemy pour them both tea like it's nothing. Mulder has no doubt seen the Morphine in the sink, because Krycek is an idiot who didn't think to dispose of the evidence before letting Mulder into the bathroom. Of course, Mulder has questions.
Mulder takes a seat and takes the cup Krycek puts on the table. Maybe he can stave off- "How badly are you hurt, Krycek?" Right. To. The. Point. Krycek risks a glance at Mulder and immediately looks away. He can't do this. This was a mistake. Asking Mulder for help was a mistake. But how was he supposed to know that this dumbass would catch the next flight to Russia at the first sign of trouble?
"Just a couple of bruises. You should see the other guys," Krycek smirks. He pulls up a chair, and sits opposite Mulder, who's chewing on the inside of his cheek, keeping his gaze steady on Krycek. Christ! How does Scully live with it every day? (Be honest with him, dipshit!) Friendship is about give-and-take, and so far, Mulder has been doing all the giving. The man opened up his arms to Krycek and the little pisher can't even open his mouth to say thank you. Can't they just go back to hugging? That was nice. A little awkward, but at least Krycek didn't have to talk.
They sit in silence, sipping the tea. Mulder takes a cookie, and munches on it unenthusiastically. You fly all the way to Russia, risking your life, not knowing what kind of danger you're getting into and the "friend" you came to bail out has nothing to offer you but stale cookies and snarky excuses.
But this is it, isn't it? This isn't about their feelings anymore. Mulder needs to know what he's gotten himself into, and who he might go up against. Krycek will have to tell him everything. And a part of him wants to. It's too much for one person to carry, even for a hardened former assassin and a perpetual asshole. This will be like therapy, and Mulder is a psych major, so the simile kind of works? It's just that, if Krycek starts speaking he's afraid he won't be able to stop. And then Mulder will be the one to bolt to the door (again).
He chuckles at the image of Mulder slowly sneaking out of the apartment while Krycek is crying on a fainting couch. He chuckles and immediately groans, because - surprise! - laughing is also one of those things that makes your bruised ribs and your stab wound hurt.
For a second, Krycek's mind goes blank and when he recovers, he's met with a look. Fuck! Where's that vodka when you need it… Krycek sighs in defeat (or maybe it's a sigh of relief?) "Fine, Mulder. Just don't make a big deal out of it, okay?"
Krycek gets up and pushes the chair away to give himself some space. God, why does it feel like he's in some weird-ass beauty peagant exposing himself to Mulder like this? Okay, Mulder showed lots more in his day, Mr. Standard-FBI-Issue-Man-Thong. But this is different. Vulnerable, naked, honest (I think I'm gonna throw up!) keeping his gaze anywhere but on Mulder, Krycek lifts his white tee, and turns around slowly, giving Mulder time to register… well, everything. He didn't count how many ribs may be broken, but, frankly, one is too many. That, plus the giant knife hole in his left side, and the multiple bruises: he's a work of art, indeed. But right now he's feeling like a damn rotisserie chicken at a deli.
When he's finished, Krycek pulls down his tee, takes his seat again, and raises his cup in a mock toast, "Five against one! Like I said, you should see the other guys."
xxx
"You should see the other guys," of course, Krycek brushes it off as nothing. Mulder should have thought of something creative - and yet, why? He's here to help, why is Krycek making it so difficult? (He obviously has too much pride, and doesn't want you to know how hurt he is, dumbass.)
Unsure of what to say next and feeling an awkward silence coming on, Mulder dares one of the cookies that have been placed on the table in front of him. He wasn't really expecting anything, but they were there, so he takes one and puts it in his mouth. Instant regret. (How long have these cookies been here?) He might as well have put paper in his mouth because it almost instantly turns to dust.
He's holding back a cough when he hears Krycek laugh and assumes it's at him (shit, did he give me these on purpose?) but when he hears Ktycek groan he uses all of his willpower to swallow what's left of the cookie dust. (He's really hurt, isn't he.) He makes eye contact with Krycek and realizes the man wasn't even aware of his struggle because he was too busy actually being in pain. "Fine, Mulder. Just don't make a big deal out of it, okay?"
Mulder washes away the rest of the dust with a full swig of tea and braces himself. Luckily, Krycek hasn't noticed his choking, but he's now pulling up his shirt and Mulder isn't ready for what's next. Finally with his esophagus clear Mulder composes himself to see Krycek showing off his scars like a Picasso painting. But not only is Krycek wounded, he's obviously done a poor job of patching himself up.
There's rogue gauze, bruises, and uncovered cuts, along with a partially exposed stab wound that looked like Krycek had attempted to stitch up on his own. Mulder can't help but wince, but Krycek doesn't notice since he's avoiding eye contact. By the time he pulls his shirt down and makes another joke, Mulder has made up his mind.
"C'mon, Alex," Mulder says as he stands, touching Krycek gently on the shoulder, "We're never gonna get you out of the country like this. Let me help you get patched up," and he looks Krycek in the eyes with the most sincere expression he can muster, trying to will the man as if with telepathy to let him help. He can't help but think about all the times he himself had beat Krycek up, and in that moment he promises himself that he will never lay a finger on him with the intent to harm ever again. (Well, unless he deserves it.)
xxx
Krycek knew this was a mistake. Nevermind that he just made an idiot out of himself twirling around like a contestant on America's Next Top Model while his guest stared at him with a mouthful of cookies. But now, Mulder knows just how badly Krycek failed with this trip. A trip that was his idea. A trip that he had invited Mulder on only to replace him last minute with an old flame like the petty little bitch that he is. A trip that Mulder now has to come and rescue him from. Great job, Mr. Assassin! Mulder can hold that over his head for as long as they're both breathing, and Krycek can't even blame him for it. That's okay, though. Krycek can take ridicule and abuse. For every punch that he threw he got three in return. For every time he played someone, he got played back like a scratched record.
Here's the thing, though. Ridicule and abuse he can handle. He knows how to respond to it. But kindness and genuine concern? That's hard. That's way out of Krycek's comfort zone. This is why when Mulder gets up from his chair and places a light hand on his shoulder, saying, "C'mon, Alex. We're never gonna get you out of the country like this. Let me help you get patched up," Krycek's brain short-circuits. He looks Mulder in the eye, expecting some kind of game or carefully plotted revenge, but Mulder is one hundred percent sincere about his intentions. He wants to help.
Krycek fights the urge to jerk away from Mulder's hand on his shoulder alone, but the worried look, the no-nonsense tone of his voice - it's all enough to send him packing. (I can't do this!) And he can't. He's not brave, like Mulder. Or that perfect little wife of his. Or even Skinman. Krycek is a coward. That's his deal. That's all he ever was. And the sad thing is that he wants to let Mulder help him. But he's a coward.
"I knew you were gonna make a big deal out of it, Mulder. It's fine. I've had worse. Literally." as if to make a point, Krycek lightly brushes off Mulder's hand with his prosthetic, "I appreciate your concern, though. More tea?"
xxx
And there it is. Krycek's ability to get under Mulder's skin and instantly piss him off is back. They've made it so far, and Mulder has put aside years of their past, but Krycek's gonna continue to act like an ungrateful piece of shit? And to make matters worse, Krycek pushes Mulder's hand away.
"Krycek, I'm not asking," now his tone is lower. Still sincere, but Mulder is having trouble hiding his frustration. He came here of his own free will, so he has reserved not to hold it over Krycek's head, but he didn't come here to be turned away.
"I came here to help. Now let me help. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, but we're not gonna make it out of here if every time you exhale you almost pass out. I don't care how it was in the past," Mulder's tone is stern, almost as if talking to a child, "I'm gonna go see what supplies you have in the bathroom, and if you don't join me in five minutes, I will drag you in there. Don't. Test me."
He lingers for a second, his eyes focused on Krycek, studying his reaction before he decides if he's going to walk out of the room.
xxx
Shit! He knew brushing off Mulder's hand was a step too far. Now, Mulder is mad. Not mad: livid. Krycek has been playing with his saint-like patience since Mulder got here, and Mulder wasn't even giving him a hard time about it. Until now.
"Krycek, I'm not asking. I came here to help," he's keeping his voice steady but everything about his body language spells DANGER. Krycek is looking up at him, frozen in place, "I don't care how it was in the past."
Angry Mulder is the one that Krycek knows best. Angry Mulder used to leave bruises on him that were almost as bad as the ones Krycek is sporting right now. For a moment, Krycek thinks to throw all that indignation back in Mulder's face, reminding him of how it really was in the past, but the whole father-killing thing stands in the way (Christ, Mulder, why are you even here?).
Krycek tries another argument, and that is he didn't ask Mulder to come in the first place, but that will only make him seem even more ungrateful. He's running out of options, while the man of the hour is standing over him like some avenging angel, burning him to a cinder with his eyes. And all Krycek has to say is, "I'm scared. I don't know how to do this.", but he can't. Especially now that Mulder is giving him an ultimatum, leaving him no chance to explain himself or to bargain.
"I'm gonna go see what supplies you have in the bathroom, and if you don't join me in five minutes, I will drag you in there," the funny thing is that Mulder would have no problem making good on his promise. Even on a good day Mulder was almost always able to overpower him, and with Krycek being weaker than a new-born kitten right now?
And this is when it hits him, how helpless he is. Overpowered and completely at Mulder's mercy. Tears start stinging his eyes again, but he manages an asshole smile and says, "Can I at least finish my tea first?"
xxx
Seeing the look on Krycek's face is almost enough to make Mulder regret getting worked up, the forced smile (are those tears?) but the man was like a God-damned teenager. He won't give in unless he's forced, and Mulder is torn at where to draw the line at how much force is too much.
"Can I at least finish my tea first?"
Mulder exhales and closes his eyes for a second, quelling his frustration. "Yes, fine." Mulder considers mentioning how he had to down his own so quickly because of those awful cookies, but the moment isn't stable enough for him to potentially insult Krycek. He knows Krycek can't leave, but Mulder gets the feeling that if he could've bolted by now he would've already, several times.
Unsure of what tone to use because nice isn't working and mean feels inappropriate, Mulder tries to just attempt calm.
"Alright," he shrugs, his arms at his sides, "I'll be waiting for you when you're ready." he turns and leaves the kitchen, hoping that a few moments to himself will allow Krycek to get it together.
Mulder finds himself back in the hallway, but this time he takes a moment to study the surroundings a bit more. There's a few photos on the wall of people he doesn't recognize, but then, is that - is that Krycek? As a teenager?
The concept is so jarring Mulder catches himself before he can laugh out loud, not wanting Krycek to hear. (I am definitely in the Twilight Zone.)
Without daring to snoop too much (don't want to supply any more reasons for Krycek to be upset) Mulder is back in the bathroom. He starts going through the medicine cabinet and finds some gauze and bandages, a few more morphine ampoules, but he also comes to another realization - all of the labels are in Russian, and besides visual shape recognition (like the bandages) he doesn't know what half of the chemicals are without Krycek's help. He sighs, shaking his head, knowing that somehow this is going to work to Krycek's advantage. He prepares himself to ask for anti-septic or hydrogen peroxide equivalent - knowing that Krycek having some sort of hand over the situation is going to come back to bite him in the ass.
xxx
Mulder lets Krycek have this one, leaving him alone in the kitchen to "finish his tea." They both know it's an excuse. But while Mulder, no doubt, thinks it was just Krycek's way to win back some of the ground he lost so unceremoniously, what Krycek was trying to win was time. Just a little time to compose himself, to regroup. He was one more shoulder grab or shove away from having another flashback. Mulder doesn't know about his panic attacks, and he intends to keep it this way. Hence: time.
Krycek allows himself a couple of deep breaths, which he regrets greatly given how broken ribs are bad for breathing. It's not the pain he's afraid of, though, it's intimacy. The last time things got intimate between them it ended badly. Granted, this wasn't going to be sexual, but the idea of giving someone - giving Mulder that much access to his body, and to let himself be seen and touched like that… Krycek uses the little time he has to search through the pantry. There has to be something - Bingo! He finds a bottle of cheap tequila. There's some left at the bottom, just enough for one gulp. Krycek doesn't bother with a glass, and downs the tequila right from the bottle.
The cheap booze burns a hole in his stomach, but it gives him the push he needs to cross the distance between kitchen and bathroom. Krycek knocks on the door.
xxx
Studying the labels hard, hoping that something recognizable will jump out at him, Mulder looks up quickly when he hears the knock. He gives Krycek a defeated look, holding two mystery bottles up, one in each hand. "Antiseptic?" he asks, his tone light again, hoping not to make this any more uncomfortable than it has to be.
It's also just striking him now what he has volunteered himself for. He knows it will be far easier for him, physically, to do this than Krycek to do it himself (he's seen the evidence), but he hadn't thought this scenario entirely through before he insisted. (Typical Mulder.) It's dawning on him that this bathroom is an enclosed space, it's just the two of them, and he's going to be ...very close.. to Krycek. (Don't make this weird. It doesn't have to be weird...) Mulder curses himself for being nervous. He's helped people hundreds of times, why should this be any different? (It's gonna be weird, isn't it).
xxx
"That's not antiseptic, that's highly concentrated nitric acid. Guaranteed to turn your fingers into dust, Mulder," maybe it's the tequila buzz or maybe seeing Mulder fumble with the Russian labels tickles Krycek's ego, but he has to give Mulder a hard time, even if it's just a tiny amount. That, of course, reminds him of their previous visit to the motherland, and how Mulder was helpless and completely at Krycek's mercy, and how Krycek had used that to manipulate him before leaving him in the gulag to die. How the tables have turned! Except, Mulder is standing in his bathroom, uninvited, throwing old grudges aside, bottle of what he thinks is antiseptic in hand, and he's not leaving until he's helped Krycek. Putting it that way, it's not as fun trolling Mulder.
Krycek shakes his head, smiling weakly, "That's mouthwash, Mulder. You want that bottle over there," and he points to the brown glass bottle that looks like it came from the lab of a mad scientist. "Where do you want me?" Krycek thinks about how that might sound, and since he doesn't want a repeat of their last close encounter of the third kind (does he?) he adds, "to sit?"
xxx
Mulder smiles sheepishly as Krycek informs him (not so gently) that he's holding a bottle of mouthwash, but he then realizes perhaps Krycek having some upper ground is a good thing. (Better than having him cornered like a frightened animal.)
Mulder is reaching for the correct bottle when Krycek asks him where he wants him, and Mulder's breath catches in his throat. (Breathe, he doesn't even have his shirt off yet.) "To sit?" Krycek adds, though Mulder isn't sure if that makes it better. He can't help it. The smirk is already slapped plain across his face as his eyes meet Krycek's. He turns trying to hide it, and pats the counter next to the sink, right in front of him.
"Up here I think. So I can access ...uh, see what I'm doing." (Real smooth, Mulder). Trying to be as serious as he can be, Mulder adds, "and I'm sorry to inform you that you'll also have to remove your shirt... doctor's orders," he shrugs and smiles apologetically.
xxx
Something is different. The mood is definitely lighter than it was in the kitchen, but somehow it's even more awkward. Krycek has his notions, but when Mulder positively blushes and starts mumbling when Krycek so carelessly asks him where he wants him, Krycek gets it. Could it be that Mulder is... nervous? The idea isn't too far-fetched, given how Mulder rammed his lips into his that one time. And as much as Krycek wants to keep this already compromised situation between them from getting out of hand, he's also still Krycek.
Mulder shows him where to sit, while tripping over words and making strange noises. Krycek is in no condition to jump up on the counter, but some teenage part of his brain wants to impress his sexy caregiver, so he gives it his best shot. He succeeds but the pain almost makes him faint. (Mistake!) Krycek loses his balance as his head starts swimming. Big mistake.
xxx
Half-anticipating a smart remark and not expecting Krycek to just attack the counter like he's in the Olympics, Mulder is completely unprepared for Krycek to jump up - and then immediately tumble off the counter. Instinct kicks in and Mulder lurches forward to catch him before he's completely off the edge, grabbing him in sort of a bear hug, the other man's entire weight now resting in his arms.
"Jesus Christ!" Mulder helps anchor Krycek back up, his face awkwardly pressed into Krycek's neck. "Alright," he says when Krycek is seated safely next to the sink, and Mulder feels he is sturdy enough to let go, "let's not try any more gymnastics, okay?" he steps back, his arms still steadying Krycek's shoulders. "Are you alright?"
xxx
If Krycek weren't having an out of body experience caused by the blinding pain, he would have had very confused feelings about Mulder catching him mid-fall and holding him in a way that was a bit too close, and a tad too tight. Alas, when he comes to, the moment has already passed. Mulder is still holding onto him, to steady him, "Are you alright?".
It's Mulder's eyes, fixed on Krycek that prompt the cowardly ratboy to make a decision. Krycek licks his lips and gives himself a few seconds to cope with the pain. He then puts his own hand on Mulder's shoulder, moreso to steady himself, and, just like at the bar, he forces himself to maintain eye contact, "I'm sorry. I'm not used to this. You know, people caring for me. It was always just me. You showing up like that, offering your help with no hidden agenda… I got scared. And I'm sorry." he gives Mulder's shoulder a little squeeze before sitting up straight and leaning against the cold tiled wall.
xxx
Mulder is about ready to consider going to a hospital when Krycek finally responds, though his response also makes him wonder if he hasn't completely lost it. Krycek allows himself to lean on Mulder (and Mulder knows this takes a lot of strength as well as weakness) and says what's been on Mulder's mind since he showed up at the door. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to this…"
Mulder's heart almost stops in its tracks. It's so honest and so raw, with the little added squeeze of his own shoulder, (is that, is Krycek being comforting? Is that reassurance?) It's enough to remind Mulder why he came all the way here, and why he's being so patient. He knows this is difficult for Krycek, but God hearing him speak the words makes it so much easier to appreciate. If it wasn't such a high risk of causing Krycek more pain, he would've hugged him again in that moment.
He returns the reassuring shoulder squeeze before Krycek leans back to rest. "It's okay, Krycek," Mulder takes a slow breath, trying to collect his thoughts. He feels extra empathetic as he's just as lost for words as Krycek must've been when Mulder showed up at his door.
He gives the man another moment to rest as he organizes the gauze and preps some cotton with antiseptic.
"I'm sorry that I don't know how to make this any easier for you, but, I'm here now, and I do want to help. And I'm also sorry to say this but…" Mulder looks down at the supplies in his hands, "this is probably going to hurt."
xxx
"It's okay, Krycek," Mulder says. And then he apologises for something that can't even be his fault (Jesus Christ, Mulder! Cool it with the guilt complex, will you?) Annoying apologies aside, Krycek can't remember the last time Mulder spoke to him this softly and sincerely. No, wait, he does. Again, it was at the bar, right when Krycek was about to leave, and Mulder was trying to get him to stay. It all comes back to that damn bar, doesn't it?
The smell of antiseptic fills up the air as Krycek watches Mulder prep the gauze through half-lidded eyes. Krycek remembers that he's still wearing his shirt and he pulls it over his head slowly, ignoring the alarms blaring in his head. It's just a patch-up job. Mulder is just an old friend (sort of). It shouldn't be making Krycek's already inflamed skin feel like it's catching fire. It shouldn't be making his heart beat so fast. Especially not when Mulder says, "this is probably going to hurt," but it does.
xxx
Krycek pulls off his shirt (somehow without causing himself enough pain to pass out again) and Mulder finds himself just staring at the supplies in his hands, almost afraid to look up. (Why am I so nervous?) He takes a deep breath and looks up at Krycek. He's leaning back against the wall, his shirt clutched in one hand, wounds all exposed, not looking at him.
Mulder isn't sure if the eye contact avoidance is Krycek's way of bracing for the pain or something else, but he realizes in that moment the gravity of what he has asked of the other man. Not only is Krycek putting his pride aside and making himself psychologically vulnerable, he is physically exposed. He wasn't joking, he probably never has been in this position. Just trusting another person enough to do this is so against everything he's lived through, and in that moment Mulder has to give Krycek a lot of credit.
Pushing all his thoughts aside, Mulder surveys Krycek's wounds more closely. The lighting in the bathroom isn't the greatest, and he chances bending closer to see the work that's cut out for him. There is so much. He realizes he is going to have to remove the bandages Krycek has already applied first - and that's also going to be a bitch. Setting down the chemicals and bandages, Mulder thinks of a different approach.
"I'm gonna have to remove the bandages you've already put on before I can put new ones on," there's still an apologetic tone in his voice as he decides where he's going to start. He turns on the faucet and lets the water run warm before wetting a cloth and lathering it with some soap. When he turns back to Krycek he sees that look in his eyes again that he's been giving him since he walked in. Probably disbelief. "If you're good maybe you'll get a prize on the way out," Mulder jokes, but a sideways look from Krycek tells him to just get it over with.
Finally Mulder raises his arms, damp cloth in hand, to Krycek's chest. Grasping his side with one hand to steady him, he presses the warm soapy cloth to his skin. He can feel Krycek tense under his grip, but he's got a long way to go so he presses onward. Gently dabbing any areas with cuts Mulder moves the warm cloth across Krycek's torso. Some of the bandages start to loosen with the dampness and he continues until he's cleaned each one. Finally he sets down the cloth and makes eye contact with Krycek for the first time since he started, an action that just about causes his heart rate to double - probably a mistake.
Mulder looks away quickly and focuses on what he has to do next. (Removing the bandages, right) starting on one side he leans in close and gently grasps the tape.
xxx
Krycek is watching Mulder fidget with the antiseptic and the gauze, and it's as if he's getting away with seeing something that isn't meant for him. Except that it is. Krycek still can't believe that he gets to have Fox Mulder in his corner. That Fox freakin' Mulder has come to rescue him. Somewhere up there, in the karmic headquarters, someone must've made a mistake, because of all the things Krycek deserves, this isn't one of them.
Krycek looks away swiftly when Mulder chances a glance at him. He doesn't want to break the spell; doesn't want to make Mulder even more self-conscious about what he's about to do. This is why he has yet to ruin the mood with some stupid innuendo to ease his own anxiety. With all that's going on with him, Krycek still thinks about Mulder, and if that isn't commendable, then he doesn't know what is.
But Mulder isn't trying to make it weird either. Krycek is sitting in front of him, practically naked, as vulnerable as he's ever allowed himself to be (including with his former lovers), and Mulder isn't being a jerk about it. Then again, why would Krycek expect anything less from him? Because Krycek doesn't think he deserves to be treated with kindness. Because Krycek's heart is rotten, and bad, and beyond redemption. Yes, sure, whatever. But - and this is something he has thought about since Mulder showed up at his door - it's mostly because this is a side of Mulder that he has never before had access to.
Mulder the caring. Mulder the selfless. Mulder who will do anything for people he cares about, including putting himself in an awkward situation. Krycek knew that this side of Mulder existed - he's seen how he is with Scully, for crying out loud - but he never in a million years thought he would be on the receiving end of it. The gratitude makes him want to throw his arms around Mulder again, but the guilt tells him to put his shirt back on and get the hell out of there. He does neither, remaining where he is, accepting the care that is being given to him for some inexplicable reason. Better not question it.
Krycek closes his eyes when Mulder moves in closer and scans Krycek's torso. He's checking the wounds, of course, but Krycek is still feeling Mulder's gaze on him, physically. He doesn't know what Mulder has in mind, exactly, he just trusts the man's judgement (clearly, this isn't his first time being a nurse), so when Mulder says he will need to remove Krycek's old bandages, Krycek nods silently, more embarrassed over his own ineptitude than anything else.
Even though Krycek knows what to expect when he hears the water running, he still flinches a little when a warm, wet fabric suddenly makes contact with his tender skin. Okay, so maybe he was a little worried about the pain earlier, but at the moment Krycek is too overwhelmed by the warmth and the tenderness to register anything else. Mulder is holding him by the arm with one hand, going over every scrape and poorly applied bandage with the damp cloth, and he's so gentle that Krycek has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. But he can't help leaning into the touch, his body being drawn to the warmth like a magnet.
He opens his eyes and steals a glance at Mulder. Just a glance, he tells himself, but he can't look away. This is Mulder. This is the man Krycek's been fighting with, whose life he's been poisoning for years, and for what? Mulder doesn't seem to notice that Krycek is staring at him, focused on the task at hand, and Krycek has never loved him more than he does in this moment. And it's not because of the ambiguous nature of their situation (not just because), but because Krycek finally - for the first time in twenty-five years - sees Mulder for who he really is.
When he's finished undoing Krycek's shoddy craftsmanship, and puts the cloth away (much to Krycek's dismay), Mulder looks at him, and for a split second their eyes meet. And the perfect spell is broken. Mulder looks away, face redder than a beet which, frankly, is the most adorable thing Krycek has ever seen. He can't help but grin, while Mulder isn't looking.
Still not looking at him, Mulder starts removing the tape. He's trying to be gentle, but tape is tape, and when he yanks at it- "Пиздец (Pizdets)! Mulder, what the fuck?!"
xxx
Krycek curses at the first tug of a bandage and Mulder flinches. Things had been going so smoothly (and quiet) so the sudden exclamation is jarring. Mulder stops and looks up at Krycek, an apologetic look, but also a small smirk on his face, "I told you it was going to hurt."
Krycek gives him a look.
"I thought about ripping the bandages off dry, it's easier on your skin, but dampening loosens the adhesive a bit and they should come off easier. I'll try my best to make it quick. If you'd like, you can grab onto my shoulder to brace yourself," his offer is met with an eyeroll, some sort of "I can take it" gesture, but Mulder isn't trying to prove anything. He also knows that fast is best when it comes to ripping off bandages. "Alright here goes nothing'", he says, not sure if more for Krycek or himself.
Returning to the corner he had abandoned, he tugs at the tape, and although Krycek flinches it comes right off. Krycek mutters something along the lines of "piece of cake" so Mulder continues. Luckily there aren't too many, but he does notice a few around a particularly bruised part of his chest, and of course the stab wound. After ripping off five or six more bandages he approaches this tender area more carefully. He looks at Krycek to see how he's doing. The man is sweating but hanging in there. Better not stop now, only two left (before the stab wound). Mulder goes right in and yanks off one and Krycek curses again and suddenly his arm flies up and grips him tightly on the shoulder.
The sudden contact causes a reaction in Mulder he wasn't expecting. Maybe it's because their history was always very physical (and violent), but the sudden clamp on his shoulder sends an adrenaline rush through his entire body. He swallows hard and tries to act like it's not affecting him. "Just one more of these left," he adds, trying to sound reassuring. He yanks the last bandage off and is awarded another tight squeeze of his shoulder, which forces him to inhale sharply and bite his own bottom lip. At this point Krycek isn't the only one sweating.
Mulder raises his eyebrows and looks up at Krycek who is now breathing very hard, hoping to God Krycek doesn't notice anything. "That was the last of the regular bandages, but this one will probably be the toughest. I'll give you a second to catch your breath before we go at that stab wound," unsure if it was Krycek or himself who needed to catch his breath, Mulder takes a step back and picks up the wash cloth. He rinses it out, this time with cool water to ease the swelling, lathering it up for another wash of all the wounds that are now raw and exposed. His mind is racing as fast as his heart is pounding in his chest, and as he looks over at Krycek sitting shirtless and exposed he asks himself how he ever thought this would be easy. (Too late now, you're already here.)
xxx
It's the element of surprise that causes Krycek to cry out (Geez, Mulder, you could have warned a fella!) Mulder practically jumps, and it's almost funny. He gives Krycek a semi-apologetic look, and explains how it's gonna be easier if they yank all the strips quickly. (Easier for who, Mulder?) "If you'd like, you can grab onto my shoulder to brace yourself," Mulder says absolutely sincerely, but Krycek just wants to get this over with, so they can go back to… to what? More sponge baths? More tea? They don't exactly have anything normal to go back to, do they? If they survive this, and if Mulder still wants to be friends, they will have to start from scratch. Get to know each other like regular people. If Mulder still wants him, when he's no longer some special project.
"Alright, here goes nothing," Mulder says, and Krycek can tell he's nervous, that this is still difficult for him. The intimacy, the openness. It's still awkward for Mulder. Too bad, Krycek was just starting to dig it.
This time, Krycek is prepared for the full body wax from hell, and when Mulder rips the strip off, Krycek has to admit that it is easier when it's done fast. Krycek lets Mulder know in a very macho way that he can go right on and tear the rest of them off, which Mulder does. One. After. Another. Mulder is fast, brutal, and dangerously close to getting kicked in the shin. Krycek does have to give it to Mulder for going through with this. This can't be easy for him. Unless he's getting some kind of kick out of flaying Krycek alive. And now Krycek wonders if he himself isn't getting some kick out of being flayed alive. That's stupid, isn't it? Just because Krycek has had a lot of pain in his life doesn't mean he's used to it. You can never get used to pain. And he certainly hasn't grown to love it, like some pop songs will make you believe. So, what gives? What's so different about him and Mulder? Why does this feel different?
But then Mulder gets to the giant purple bruise on his pec - the sight of repeated impact between Krycek and the bad guy's crowbar, and this is where it stops being fun. He should say something. Tell Mulder to stop. Instead he bites the inside of cheek again, and waits for it. Mulder grabs his shoulder for leverage, and it sends Krycek back to the parking lot. Simian-like hands grabbing him, holding him down, while the crowbar is digging into his flesh. This time he was certain he was going to die. How do you survive being buried alive, infected by an alien parasite, and working for the Smoking Ghoul only to get killed by a bunch of brain dead thugs at a nameless parking lot? Worst of all, he would die alone, and - the tape comes off with a loud tearing sound, there's a flash of pain, and Krycek involuntarily grabs Mulder's shoulder, his lizard brain searching for something real to anchor itself to.
Mulder tears another strip, and this time Krycek is positive some skin comes off with it. It's searing and burning. God, why did he ever think he could get used to it, let alone enjoy it? This sucks. This is hell. Why is it that wherever he goes, it's always the same thing? It's always someone beating him, tearing at him, bleeding him dry.
Krycek realises he's still got Mulder's long-suffered shoulder in a vice, and lets go. He's drenched in sweat, heart racing, head swimming in some thick toxic fog, the smell of blood and antiseptic permanently seared into his olfactory nerves.
He opens his eyes and looks at Mulder for the first time in what feels like hours. Mulder's expression is hard to read, and Krycek doesn't even attempt to. He just wants for this to be over, "That was the last of the regular bandages, but this one will probably be the toughest," Mulder says, meaning the stab wound. That fucking stab wound. Those clowns came at him with crowbars and knives. Couldn't just settle for shooting him…
Mulder gives him a "second" to recover. Krycek doesn't want a second. He wants to go back to bed, and take a two-week nap. He feels as if the last twenty-five years of his miserable existence are finally catching up to him in one merciless second, and it's all hitting him at once. He squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingernails in the flesh of his palm, and that helps him calm down a little. Just enough to ride this tidal wave and not drown.
But when Mulder comes back, looking apologetic but determined to finish the job, something in Krycek's brain goes terribly wrong. He knows that Mulder isn't going to hurt him, but just the thought of someone - anyone - touching him where the knife tore a hole in him fills Krycek with paralyzing fear. He grabs the approaching hand and holds it away from him like it's a red hot poker, "Mulder, STOP! I can't do this! I told you I can't do this! Please, stop," and just like that Krycek starts crying. He's actually crying, like he's five. He puts his hand over his eyes, because he can't stop these weak, miserable sobs. Perfect. This is just perfect.
xxx
Mulder takes his time at the sink, aware that Krycek is having a rough time by how hard he's breathing. He feels guilty that he has to do this to him, to hurt him, even though it's all necessary for him to heal. Well, maybe it's not just that. Mulder knows there was a tiny part of him that hadn't hated ripping those bandages off, sort of reminiscent of their old dynamic in some twisted way, and that thought makes him feel slightly ill - though - he isn't entirely sure Krycek had hated the entire thing either. But whatever amusement had been there at the beginning was definitely gone after that last bandage.
Hoping the rinse will ease the pain Mulder returns to Krycek, cloth in hand, however when he goes to reach for him, Krycek's arm suddenly jolts out and grabs his, causing him to drop the damp cloth on the counter, "Mulder, STOP! I can't do this! I told you I can't do this! Please, stop."
Mulder stands there absolutely frozen for a second, shock written all over his face. He's slightly terrified at the intensity Krycek had yelled "stop!" There was a desperation in Krycek's voice that Mulder had never heard before. The shock doubles down as Krycek retreats his hand and breaks into sobs, but seeing him suddenly so broken also breaks something inside Mulder. It starts to sink in that this is more than physical damage, and all the bandages and disinfectant in the world won't fix it.
Removing the damp cloth and plopping it in the sink, Mulder turns to his sobbing friend, leans in and slowly wraps both of his arms around him. Krycek is shaking and Mulder is a little concerned about him going into shock, so he pulls him closer to the edge of the counter to engulf him fully in his arms.
"Alright, it's alright," Mulder says soothingly, his mouth at the top of Krycek's head. Krycek's sobs are now muffled slightly by his shirt, and Mulder swears he can feel Krycek grasp onto him but it's hard to tell between the sobs. Smoothing his hands over Krycek's back he notices a few more scrapes and bruises, but for now he ignores them and tries his best to offer comfort.
For a moment they just sit in this embrace, Mulder cradling Krycek as he finally empties himself of the trauma that's clearly been bottled up this whole time. Mulder knows he needs time to process, so he doesn't try to stop him or quiet him, just lets him let it out. He's actually quite proud of the man for letting it out, though with what he's been through it's clearly due to reaching a breaking point and not a choice.
After a time, Krycek's sobs finally start to subside. Mulder leans back a little, his hands resting on the back of Krycek's neck so that he can see his face. Krycek makes to turn his face away but Mulder gently slides one of his hands forward to hold his cheek.
"Hey," he says gently, massaging Krycek's cheek with his thumb. Krycek finally meets his gaze, eyes still full of tears. He's clearly embarrassed (and still upset) but Mulder's not going to let him hide yet, not after that outburst. "I'm not gonna ask if you're alright because I know you're not alright, but I just want you to know that it's okay. Probably everything catching up with you all at once," he pauses, trying to hold Krycek's gaze. Krycek looks as if he might bolt and hide if only he had the physical capability to move.
"We're not twenty-five anymore," Mulder continues, "we can't bounce back from getting our asses kicked like we used to, but you still survived. I know I don't know you as well as I'd like to, but the Krycek I know certainly survived a lot. I'm not saying it's easy, or that you're not tired, Hell, I'm tired, but if anyone can survive against all odds it's always been you. You're Alex fucking Krycek for crying out loud. You know how many people have tried, and failed to kill you? Including me? Resilient piece of shit."
Mulder smiles a little and he could swear he got a little smile in return at that last remark, but he's also sure this much attention is overwhelming for Krycek and he doesn't want to overdo it. He goes quiet from his little pep talk and lets his gaze wander over Krycek's features: his ridiculously full eyelashes (have they always looked like that?) and pouty little mouth. The mouth that he had only too recently kissed with force ...(How many times have I busted up this face? Only to be here holding it now...)
He's aware of how long he's been staring, but something is stopping him from backing away. Something in Krycek's eyes. He thinks fleetingly about kissing him again, for real and not drunkenly this time, but he's terrified of it being the wrong move. So he resists, clenching his teeth instead, but his gaze remains soft. It's somewhat obvious what he's thinking though - as his gaze probably lingers on Krycek's mouth longer than it should (don't, Mulder. I know you want to, but think of what happened last time. He's vulnerable right now and you can't take advantage of him like that. You're friends now. You want to be friends. Don't ruin it.) He hadn't expected this to be so difficult. He wonders what Krycek is thinking and if he'd really hate it so much...
Bowing his head to bar him from further complicated thoughts, Mulder lets go of Krycek's face and moves his hands to his shoulders. "Most of the hard part is over," he says, trying to bring them both back to the task, "I'm not going to sterilize all those cuts because most of them are superficial. Some gentle soap and water will do, just like before. Is that alright?" Mulder finally looks up again, his eyes asking for Krycek's permission to continue. But when he sees the look on Krycek's face he also struggles to keep it together.
xxx
Krycek can't stop crying. He's shaking with sobs that are getting more violent, threatening to tear him in half. All of the bruises and cuts that he has endured and inflicted on others reappear on his body all at once, and it hurts. And somewhere, on the fringes of his awareness there's shame. And there's Mulder.
He doesn't react when Mulder puts his arms around him, not at first. It takes a moment for his overworked brain to register the warmth of the other man's body against his, and the soft touch. When Krycek does realize what's happening, his first instinct is to break free as panic sets in through the grief. As if anticipating his reaction, Mulder pulls Krycek closer to him, holding him gently but firmly. Whispering, "Alright, it's alright," he strokes Krycek's sore back: up and down, up and down.
Instead of being put off by Krycek's meltdown, Mulder offers him shelter; a safe space in his arms where Krycek can let go without losing himself, and Krycek takes the offer. He puts his head on Mulder's shoulder and pulls him closer still with his right arm, still shaking and weeping uncontrollably. Mulder won't let him go, not until Krycek has finished crying. Not until all his pain is gone, at least for the time being.
It's impossible to tell how much time has passed. Enough so that Krycek's run out of steam, run out of tears. As his sobs subside, exhaustion overtakes him, and he's hanging onto Mulder like a sleepy koala bear. Mulder hasn't moved the entire time Krycek has been bawling, and Krycek can't remember the last time he felt this safe. The last time he trusted someone so much that he allowed himself to cry on their shoulder.
But when Mulder cups Krycek's face - his tear-soaked, beat up face - Krycek tries to look away. He may have allowed himself to cry in front of Fox Mulder, but it doesn't mean he's ready to face him. Mulder being Mulder, he holds Krycek's head firmly in place, his thumb rubbing the swollen cheek lightly. Unable to move, Krycek lowers his eyes, hoping that Mulder will let it go. Mulder doesn't. Mulder is a stubborn, single-minded son of a bitch and he will see this through. Krycek forces himself to look up and meet that intensely sincere look he has come to love so much. Oh, no! It's pep talk time.
As Krycek looks for ways to excuse himself, Mulder gives him his speech. Eventually, Krycek stops his mind from racing and listens to what Mulder has to say, and it makes sense. Yes, Krycek is strong. Resilient. He's been through hell and back more times than he can count, and he's still here. But that's not what Krycek latches onto. It's the fact that Mulder acknowledges his pain. Years and years of it. To have Fox Mulder standing there, looking Krycek straight in the eye, telling him that his pain is real is just… Krycek didn't realise how much he needed that until now. He's about to turn on the waterworks again, but when Mulder calls him a "Resilient piece of shit," with so much affection, Krycek smiles instead.
Krycek is waiting for Mulder to say something else (Don't stop now, Fox! Tell me what else you like about me), but Mulder doesn't say anything. He's just holding Krycek's face like it's the most delicate thing he's ever had his hands on. He's looking at Krycek as if he's seeing him for the first time. And, in a way, he is. He's studying Krycek. Admiring him like he's a work of art, and Krycek is soaking it all in, basking in the adoration. He's not questioning it, because if he does, he will ruin it. Mulder doesn't love him. Not the way Krycek wants him to.
Mulder's eyes linger on Krycek's lips a moment too long and Krycek recognizes this look. He remembers what happened the last time Mulder gave him this look. Maybe, Mulder was telling the truth when he said he had feelings for him too? Maybe that night at the bar was real to him too, like he had claimed? Krycek was too hurt to listen then. Maybe he was wrong.
Seconds pass, as Krycek is waiting for Mulder to do something. The noble putz probably wants to be a gentleman about it. Doesn't want to make it seem like he's taking advantage of his traumatised friend. Doesn't Mulder know that Krycek doesn't just let people take advantage of him anymore? That Krycek does what he wants to? Maybe it's because he doesn't know this new Krycek. The Krycek that makes his choices out of desire instead of survival instinct.
Mulder uncups Krycek's face and puts his hands on his shoulders instead. Trying to sound business-like and not like he's just been drooling over Krycek's lips, Mulder talks about giving him another sponge bath. Which Krycek doesn't mind, except Mulder isn't looking at him anymore. Now, it's Mulder who's avoiding eye contact, clearly ashamed of his feelings. And now, Krycek feels like he has to do something to coax some honesty out of his friend. But mostly he wants to hold Mulder again. To give him back even the fraction of comfort that he has received in these few short hours.
When the noble fed finally looks up at him again, asking if he can resume the patching up, Krycek puts his hand gently on Mulder's neck, and pulls him close. His voice comes out low and raw when he says, "Thank you for coming for me, Mulder," before bringing their lips together in a slow, tender kiss.
xxx
"Thank you for coming for me, Mulder," and just like that Krycek speaks the words Mulder never expected to hear, and does something he never expected he'd do (well, never again anyway): Krycek kisses him.
Mulder's heart thumps erratically as Krycek pulls him in by his neck, and presses his lips to Mulder's own. (Oh…) Mulder could swear his heart stopped in that instant. This time he's the one unsure of how long this will last, how much is allowed. He tried so hard to be good, not to cross a boundary he wasn't supposed to, but now here he is being kissed by the man he so desperately wants to show he has feelings for.
He feels the tears well up in his eyes as he brings his hands back up to Krycek's face and leans into the kiss.
Krycek is being gentle (imagine that), and Mulder tries to match his softness but he can't help but be a bit demanding (I shouldn't...but I want this. God do I want this…) Feeling Krycek's lips part against his he deepens the kiss, tasting the alcohol that Krycek had secretly downed (bastard!). He holds the other man's face delicately but the need gives away his desire as his fingers grip just a little tighter, his whole body moving closer.
And then for a moment they break, their lips part and they just breathe, resting against each other's faces, lips just barely brushing. The kiss had been gentle and sweet, but the effects on Mulder were so profound that he couldn't just stop. He doesn't want this moment to end. He's infatuated - and he's terrified. Terrified of going too far, taking too much, doing the wrong thing and hurting Krycek again. But this time, this time, Mulder refuses to be a coward. He won't run away because of what might happen, what could. And after a moment he tilts Krycek's chin with his hand, looks him in the eyes, and kisses him again. This time he slips right in, lips demanding, his tongue desperately crashing into Krycek's. His hands still hold Krycek's face as he takes, takes what he's been wanting to since that night at the bar, hoping to god this isn't a mistake.
His hands travel into Krycek's hair and he feels the other man respond to his advances as he grasps tightly. But along with the heat his emotions are still swelling inside him, and despite his desires he slows his movements. Suddenly he breaks away.
Krycek looks at him, his lips slightly swollen from the interaction and with something in his eyes. Maybe, maybe now he gets it. In his gaze Mulder finds himself no longer able to contain his own emotions and the tears finally break free, one streaming down his cheek.
"I'm so sorry, Alex, I didn't mean to get carried away. I..I don't want to hurt you. I just…. I.." and now it's Mulder's turn to be ashamed as he retracts his arm and puts a hand on his own face. Feeling himself start to cry. He wants to say the words, he wants to tell him everything, but the last time he tried that he almost made this worse. So instead he stands there in front of the man who finally showed him some real gratitude and stuffs down his feelings like an idiot. Trouble is, he already gave it all away in that kiss, and he knows it.
xxx
He doesn't know what this is supposed to be: a thank you, a reward, or an act of pure selfishness, but Krycek knows what he wants. It's all up to Mulder now. Krycek's been here before, by putting words to his feelings; this is no different. And it's just as scary.
Mulder's surprise only lasts for a second, but waiting for his response feels like hours. He cups Krycek's face like before and kisses him back. He's careful this time but there's desperation that was there the first time they kissed: Mulder's struggle between timidity and desire (is it desire?) expressed through motion.
Krycek parts his lips and it's a deliberate action: he wants Mulder to know that he's welcome and wanted. Mulder is smart and he takes the hint, leaning into the kiss, taking everything Krycek is giving to him. His lips are dry at first, and chapped from the long and stressful journey. He tastes vaguely of those godawful cookies, reminding Krycek of the tequila he himself had before he came in here. He's wondering if Mulder can taste it too, and if there'll be any consequences for Krycek later (Jesus Christ, I hope so!). Mulder is gripping Krycek's haggard old face tightly, and it ignites in him a want that even his own fear of rejection can't quell.
They break away almost in sync, catching their breaths. Bringing their foreheads together, they stay like this in silence. Krycek is fighting the urge to apologise for being drenched in sweat. But Mulder just spent the last hour cleaning Krycek's wounds. What's a little forehead sweat?
Krycek didn't plan for this, nor did he know how this would go. He's happy for it to end here. No, hot happy. Content. He didn't even know if Mulder would respond, so when Mulder tilts Krycek's chin up in a firm motion and goes in for round two, his heart skips a beat. The insecurity that was there the first time is nowhere to be felt as Mulder takes charge. He's not being forceful like the first time they kissed, but the demand with which he's taking Krycek, it's the same as before, and Krycek can't get enough of it. Of being wanted. Mulder is digging his fingers in Krycek's damp hair, pulling him even closer, and Krycek takes this as a cue to go a little faster, to be a little rougher. Mulder can take it.
But in all this intensity, this back and forth between control and submission there's something else there. Something that Krycek only got a little glimpse of at the bar, before Mulder put a stop to it. It's impossible to ignore, even as Krycek's mind is struggling to acknowledge it. He doesn't know what Mulder wants. Not really. But he remembers the feeling. It's resting somewhere in the deepest corners of his memory, back when there was still love and affection in his life. Back when he was still loved. Now, as Mulder is losing himself in Alex Krycek, it's all coming back to him, in tiny little echoes and flashes. It's scary and wonderful and Alex can't get enough of it.
Then Mulder stops, and for an agonizing second, Krycek thinks that he did something wrong, and that Mulder is going to bolt again, leaving him alone in the bathroom (alone in the country?). His breath catches in his throat and his eyes dart to Mulder's, looking for answers. He hates how vulnerable he is, how obvious. But when Mulder meets his gaze, Krycek knows.
And when Mulder suddenly breaks into tears, Krycek almost joins him. But as fun as it sounds - two grown men crying together in the bathroom (what a bonding exercise that would be!) it cracks Krycek's miserable little heart in half seeing his friend struggle to say the words; struggle to reconcile the conflicting emotions. Krycek knows. He's been here before. Instead of saying how he feels, Mulder apologises, and Krycek wants to kick himself. The way he handled the situation after the bar is the reason why Mulder is crying.
Mulder is covering his face with his right hand, so Krycek takes his left hand and brings it to his lips. There's history in these hands, imprinted in the calluses and the pores. All that Mulder has endured; all that he's built and destroyed - it's all there. They can't erase history. What they've done to each other - what Krycek has done to Mulder - it will always be there, between them. But, maybe, if they put their heads together, they can build something better.
"It's okay," Krycek says, his voice still sounding like gravel on sandpaper from the crying and the exhaustion, but he's hoping that his reassuring tone is enough to carry the message, "I know. You don't have to say anything, Fox. I know."
xxx
(I promised myself I wouldn't do this.) Mulder is trying not to break down completely as the tears stream silently down his face. (I'm supposed to be the one doing the comforting.) But he hadn't planned (and stupidly, he realizes now) that that might come with the price of dealing with his own emotions.
But while he's lost in his guilt and his thoughts, eyes jammed shut and hand over his mouth, he feels something soft on his other hand. Opening his eyes, he's greeted with the image of Krycek pressing his lips to Mulder's hand. It's such an innocent, polite action, it's enough to bring another surge of tears from his eyes. "It's okay," Krycek says, and suddenly their roles are reversed.
He just didn't want to come all the way here just to make the same mistake he had made at the bar. After the talk they had had online late one night, they had agreed to be friends. And he hadn't even been in Russia a day, not even a few hours, and he had already lost control of himself.
"You don't have to say it, Fox, I know."
Krycek's voice is sincere and...kind? But what? What does he know? Does he truly understand? Mulder presses his fingers to his eyes to wipe his tears and runs his fingers through his hair.
"I just didn't come here to immediately make the same mistake I already made," Mulder sighs, clearly disappointed in himself, "If you're upset with me I…"
But Krycek is shaking his head, still holding Mulder's hand. Mulder trails off.
"Mulder, I have been pining for your paranoid ass for a quarter of a century. One drunk kiss isn't going to change that."
The way Krycek refers to him so affectionately, and so dryly, melts him a little inside. Mulder can't help but let out a small laugh.
"But...I'm not drunk now. Though…" a small smirk creeps along the side of his mouth as he eyes Krycek's lips again, recalling the liquor he had tasted, "someone else may have neglected to share with the class."
Krycek makes a face, knowing he's been caught red handed, and Mulder starts to laugh again at the ridiculousness of the situation. The laughter releases the nervousness that had come with his tears. He takes the hand the Krycek had been holding and presses it to the man's cheek. "So you're not upset with me, even after one drunk kiss, and one sober one?"
Mulder looks at him hopefully, his eyes full of warmth. The thought that maybe he hasn't disappointed his friend so soon fills him with a sudden sense of relief. (After all...Krycek's the one that initiated this kiss...and he didn't stop me…he kissed me back!) Though he isn't sure what it means for their future if Krycek admits to enjoying it too. But at this moment he honestly doesn't care. One step at a time.
xxx
"I just didn't come here to immediately make the same mistake...If you're upset with me I…" Mulder, the pure of heart! This is getting irritating. Except that Krycek knows damn well that he's the reason Mulder is going through what he's going through. That's all Krycek has ever been good for - hurting the people he loves.
Putting his own issues aside to be dealt with never, Krycek says, squeezing Mulder's hand for emphasis, "Mulder, I have been pining for your paranoid ass for a quarter of a century. One drunk kiss isn't gonna change that."
At that Mulder's face lights up with a stupid grin, and he laughs. Mulder likes it when Krycek sasses him (I'll keep that in mind). Krycek still isn't sure he's convinced Mulder that he hasn't stopped loving him just because they drunk made out one time. Just as he still can't fully believe that Mulder cares about him.
Eyeing Krycek's lips like a cat that's spotted a bowl of cream, Mulder reminds Krycek of the tequila. So, he has noticed. And he isn't above giving Krycek a hard time about it. Yes! More of this, please!
Krycek can only imagine how much tension Mulder's been carrying when Mulder starts laughing, and it's a laugh of relief. It's pure and unfiltered. Mulder takes the hand that Krycek's been holding this time, and puts it against Krycek's cheek. Krycek freezes up momentarily (old habits!) but then immediately melts into the touch.
Krycek will never get used to this. Gentle touch is already something so unusual to him, but Mulder touching him like this is like something out of the fucking Twilight Zone. And, no, he does not deserve it. But if Krycek abstains from all the things that he doesn't technically deserve, he will have nothing. And here is Fox Mulder, in the flesh, and Krycek gets to touch him, kiss him, talk to him like they're old friends. What kind of a moron would he have to be to say no to this out of some vague sense of morality? For as long as Krycek is allowed (happiness?) this opportunity he will not hold anything back.
"So you're not upset with me, even after one drunk kiss, and one sober one?" Krycek's heart sinks a little when Mulder is asking him the same question again. Mulder is as naked and vulnerable as Krycek's been feeling all evening. Krycek has had the upper hand on Mulder before, but that usually had to do with manipulating the other man into doing something that would hurt him in the end. Now, Krycek has some weird emotional upper hand, because Mulder doesn't want to hurt him again, and he's practically asking Krycek's permission to show him that he cares. He's leaving the terms and conditions of their - whatever this is - in Krycek's hands. If that were twenty, even ten years ago, Krycek would have used this trust to his advantage. But here he is, older and a little beat up. He doesn't want to have 'the upper hand,' he just wants to be held.
Krycek presses Mulder's hand tighter to his cheek, even though it hurts. He wants to say something reassuring but it's been such a long day, and an even longer night, and his exhaustion is finally catching up with him. Instead of half-assing some cheesy monologue Krycek settles for a quiet but sincere, "No."
With everything that's been packed into this hour, Krycek forgot that he's still half-naked, cold, and injured. And that they haven't even begun patching him up.
"I guess we should finish up here," he says looking down at himself, "before bad guys come knocking on our door."
Mulder gives him a look, and Krycek, still embarrassed about his Oscar-winning meltdown earlier, does his best impression of having confidence, "It's fine. I can do this. Let's just get this over with," and he adds with a little smirk, "you're not too bad at this thing, Fox. I can almost forget you're not a real nurse."
xxx
Kycek's hand is tightly pressed against Mulder's, which is still against Krycek's bruised cheek, and all at once Mulder recognizes the exhaustion written on the other man's face. "No," Krycek says softly, answering Mulder's endless persistence with the most subtle smile on his lips. Mulder almost considers going in for another hug but he's already treading on the self-conscious end of his physical displays of affection and stays put.
He doesn't like being this way - insecure and lacking confidence in his actions - it's just new for him to be so vulnerable with Krycek and he is still trying to figure out where they stand. So when Krycek reminds him of how much work he still has yet to do, he happily accepts the change of subject.
"I guess we should finish up here, before bad guys come knocking on our door," Krycek says. He's right, of course, but the reminder of the fact that they are actually in some sort of imminent danger may have exposed concern on Mulder's face, because Krycek's next words are reassuring. Though Mulder's not sure if he's trying to pep talk Mulder or himself.
"It's fine. I can do this. Let's just get this over with," Mulder sees a familiar twinkle return to Krycek's eye before he adds, "You're not too bad at this thing, Fox. I can almost forget you're not a real nurse."
Hearing the playfulness returning to Krycek's voice, Mulder responds with an eyeroll. His hand finally leaves Krycek's cheek to go retrieve the damp cloth that had now been abandoned for an immeasurable amount of time. "Well I'm certainly no Dr. Scully, but I've been patched up myself enough times to know a thing or two," he realizes what he's said too late, the words are already out of his mouth. He had mentioned Scully. Obviously that was going to happen eventually, but he also didn't want to complicate anything Krycek was feeling right now with the topic of his wife. They were just finally getting somewhat comfortable.
Hoping to roll past it, Mulder keeps talking, his tone playful. "Also don't push it, Krycek, it's Mulder," he says, calling Krycek out for using his first name for probably the umpteenth time, "I know you're trying to be coy but no one calls me 'Fox'," They exchange subtle smirks as Mulder warms up the water, thinking at this point Krycek is probably cold and probably won't enjoy the cold water he had originally planned.
Mulder feels Krycek's eyes on him as he lathers up the soapy cloth again, and prepares to clean the wounds properly. He wrings out the cloth of excess water and steps back to where Krycek's knees are hanging over the counter.
Mulder puts on the most serious face he can muster while holding the cloth and says dryly, "Now sit still, or I might have to restrain you," the corner of his lip curls just the slightest as he reaches over Krycek's lap to dab a few of the cuts on one of Krycek's sides. "Besides, I don't want to get your pants all wet."
xxx
Mulder rolls his eyes at Krycek's well-timed remark and goes to soak the washcloth in hot water. Krycek is trying hard to hide his anticipation behind a smug little smile.
"Well I'm certainly no Dr. Scully, but I've been patched up myself enough times to know a thing or two," at the mention of Scully, Krycek's smile freezes and he's brought back to the real world with a hard knock to the chest. A world where the terms and conditions of their relationship are not up to Krycek, or even up to Mulder. Funny thing is that he's not jealous. Can't be jealous of something that isn't yours. He tries his best to keep his expression neutral, even though a part of him wants to jump off this counter and take that two-week nap.
Mulder senses it too. Knows he's said something he wasn't supposed to. He's trying to bring them back into the moment by returning Krycek's sass, "I know you're trying to be coy but no one calls me 'Fox'," The playful look is there but it's almost like Mulder is asking Krycek to play along. Krycek chooses to ignore these last ten seconds and wills himself to return the knowing smirk. They are creating something unique here. Is it going to last? Probably not. But it is real.
Krycek is watching Mulder prepare for another round of spongy-bathy time, and he's falling for this old conspiracy nut all over again. (Things I could've given you had I not been such a coward!) Krycek never lets himself daydream or create alternate timelines in which he tells the black-lunged motherfucker to stuff it, and comes clean to Mulder. Maybe that would have been the end of Alex Krycek. Or, maybe, Mulder would have protected him then the way he's protecting him now.
Mulder is trying his damndest to keep a serious face, but his own excitement is shining through when he says, "Now sit still, or I might have to restrain you," well, hello there, Mr Mulder! Is this how you want to play it?
Mulder brings the washcloth up to Krycek's shredded torso and rinses the most superficial cuts first. Krycek welcomes the familiar warmth. This time, however, he's not trying to ignore the stinging sensation that comes with it. Instead, he wants to see where it will lead him. Mulder is being as gentle as ever, but he feels it too, "besides, I don't want to get your pants all wet."
Heart pounding in his chest, Krycek makes a decision. He doesn't want a repeat of his kitchen blunder, but he also has to give it a try, "Whatever you say, Fox."
xxx
"Whatever you say, Fox," Mulder's eyes shoot up from what he's doing to meet Krycek's. (Really?) It's always deliberate when Krycek calls him "Fox," but to do so right after Mulder just told him not to is a special kind of acting out. Krycek is doing this on purpose. To get a reaction.
"Do you want me to be gentle or do you want this to hurt?" Mulder says, applying a bit of pressure with the cloth and gripping his other hand on Krycek's side to steady him. Krycek lets out a grunt of discomfort in response, but when Mulder looks up at him it's just a smug little smirk slapped across his lips. Once again the tone of this little (what is this? Encounter? Event?) has changed into something entirely different - and there's a renewed sort of tension in the air.
Not entirely sure what Krycek is playing at, (is that what he wants? For me to be more aggressive?) Mulder continues his work, taking care to clean each wound thoroughly, occasionally rinsing the washcloth and re-applying soap. Each time he returns to Krycek's tenderized torso, however, he gets the sense that Krycek is anticipating his touch. Leaning into it, even. During a quick exchange of glances Mulder even could've sworn he saw Krycek bite his lip, but he wasn't entirely sure if it was from the pain.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were enjoying this," Mulder says playfully, doing a final rinse with the washcloth. He then picks up a hand towel and gently pats dry all the areas he's washed, careful to avoid the stab wound that he knows won't be enjoyable for either of them.
xxx
"Whatever you say, Fox," as if on cue, Mulder looks up at Krycek, disbelief written all over his beautiful face. Disbelief and something else. Something Krycek's been hoping his little 'misstep' would bring out of him. Mulder's calm voice is laden with a subtle threat when he asks, "Do you want me to be gentle or do you want this to hurt?"
Not waiting for an answer, Mulder puts a firm hand on Krycek's side and holds him in place. Krycek braces himself for whatever is about to come, but keeps his eyes fixed on Mulder. This time, when Mulder brings the damp fabric to his inflamed skin, he presses it against the cut. Just a little, but it's enough to send a jolt of electricity up Krycek's side. He grunts involuntarily, even as some part of his mind is savouring the sensation. There it is - that curious need, a trace of which Krycek sensed the first time Mulder put his hands on his beat-up frame. He wasn't sure then, dominated as he was by fear and memory. Well, he is now.
Krycek is light-headed, but can't tear his eyes off Mulder. This night has been a test of honesty, and here he is, in front of Mulder, as naked and shamelessly honest as he's ever been, (Both, Mulder! I want both).
He also knows that he has sensed something in Mulder too. Mulder likes this too. At the very least, he's willing to do this for Krycek, if that's what Krycek wants. But Krycek doesn't answer his question. There's still a million ways in which he can fuck this up. They're just starting to test the waters. So, Krycek waits, silently and obediently.
Mulder is still being gentle, but gone is the insecurity that was there the first time. He's no longer afraid that Krycek will break under the slightest pressure. He's being more thorough with the washcloth, and bolder. Even though Krycek is keeping still, Mulder is holding him firmly by the arm - a gesture that is both comforting and steadying.
Krycek is trying to keep his breath steady, but it hitches every time Mulder presses a little too hard or rinses a little too deeply. Yet, he can't help but lean into each touch. It's as if his body has a will of its own. His body knows what it wants. He revels in the sting as much as he does in the warmth, trying to commit every touch to memory, letting his skin soak up every tiny interaction.
Stealing a look at his tormentor, Krycek tries to remember each one of Mulder's microexpressions. He wants to remember Mulder this way - focused and determined. Determined to do what, exactly? Rid Krycek of the pain or give him the pleasure the old rat has been starving for for years? Somewhere amidst the sensations a thought flashes by: he asked. Mulder asked Krycek what he wanted. No one has ever asked Krycek what he wanted before. No one has ever given him anything without demanding something in return. And Mulder is both asking and giving selflessly. And Krycek has to bite his lower lip to keep himself from moaning.
When Mulder's finished cleaning his wounds, he dries him lightly with a towel, and Krycek lets out a satisfied little sigh. They're not even half-way through with this prolonged patch-up job, but Krycek already feels different. He feels taken care of. Not healed, but whole.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were enjoying this," Mulder says with a coy smile. He's not judging Krycek, but there is a real question behind the playful tone. Krycek feels another urge to tease the other man bubbling up under the surface. He's meeting Mulder's challenging look, trying to think of another way to rile him up. ...Except he doesn't have to. Mulder has already asked him if this is what he wants. Krycek can just tell him. There's freedom in this exchange that Krycek hasn't known before.
He drops the asshole smirk and says, as sincerely as he can, "And if I am?"
xxx
"And if I am?" Mulder feels his breath catch in his throat and his face suddenly gets hot. He's unable to meet Krycek's gaze right away, for fear it will give away that he's blushing. He expected sass but he did not expect Krycek to just come clean. Sincerity. The Krycek that had been so desperately clinging to him, crying on his shoulder in this same encounter is gone. Hours away. And he's now admitting straight up that he liked.. the pain?
Mulder had knowingly been a bit more confident with his handling this time around and sure enough it had paid off. But what exactly did that mean? Was he prepared for the consequences? And yet despite being unsure of where this would lead...he knows he wants more. He wants to see Krycek react, show he's enjoying this. Fine, Krycek had admitted it. Now Mulder wanted to see it.
Mulder is both a little excited and a little scared. He's relieved that he hasn't misread the situation, but now it's a challenge. Now that it's out in the open, he can't pretend like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. (Little bastard). Or maybe, maybe he can. The thought sparks something inside him. He feels giddy and mischievous...like he's about to try to get away with something.
Hoping he hasn't given away too much with the look on his face, Mulder keeps focused on the objects in front of him. (bandages. I'm supposed to do bandages next.) It's suddenly hard for him to focus. (Concentrate, Fox. You can't let him win this little challenge so easily.)
Finally responding to Krycek's fearless honesty, Mulder speaks calmly, "Then I guess you will be pleased to hear we'll have to change your bandages regularly, every day for a few days," his tone is casual and passive as he pours out a box of bandages. He meets Krycek's gaze as if asserting this is absolutely normal and in no way implying anything. Krycek's eyes are so intense they are practically burning through him, calling him a liar, and Mulder's heart just about doubles pace. He's not sure if Krycek can see right through his little facade of calmness, but he has to try.
Putting on his best air of 'everything is fine and I have absolutely no idea what you just said to me,' Mulder takes a band-aid and peels off the backing. He gives Krycek a nod to show that he's about to apply it. Returning his steadying hand to Krycek's side, firmly, Mulder places the bandage over one of the smaller cuts and smooths two fingers over it to secure the adhesive. Except he doesn't just do it once. He smooths his fingers over the entire bandage and the surrounding skin, back and forth, applying a little pressure where he knows Krycek can feel it against the small wound underneath. He wants to hear Krycek respond. (Show me that you're enjoying this, rat.)
xxx
It's the waiting that is going to get him killed. It's been minutes (okay, seconds) since Krycek gave Mulder his answer, and Mulder is yet to say a word. Did Krycek screw this up after all? What if Mulder will reject him? But Mulder has already shown that he accepts Krycek as he is. He's not going to reject him. He wants to test him. Is this what Krycek really wants?
Mulder is pulling his mouth, the cogs and wheels in his brain working overtime. Krycek's waiting patiently for his friend to make his next move. Even with all of their cards on the table, it's still a game between the two of them. Always has been.
When Mulder finally speaks, his tone is measured and icy, with just a hint of mischief underneath, "Then I guess you will be pleased to hear we'll have to change your bandages regularly, every day for a few days," the nonchalant way with which he's saying the words is just an act, all part of their little game. This is the agreement then. These are the rules. Krycek had already proved to Mulder that he can play by the rules, if he so wishes. But it's good to know what the rules are, even if he's not planning to break them. Not yet.
Krycek is holding his gaze, like they're in some strange staring contest. This feels like new territory, but it's so familiar at the same time. Their relationship in a nutshell: they grapple for control even as they're leaping into the great unknown. And as always, Krycek is savouring every word coming from this damn man's mouth. Whether Mulder is comforting Krycek or calling him out on his bullshit he always knows the right thing to say. This must be the beauty of being with someone you've known your whole life. Someone who's seen you at your absolute, most irredeemable worst.
Mulder goes to open a new package of bandages, and Krycek is watching his every move, heart stuck in his throat. They're just bandages. Then why does it feel like Mulder is setting up the scene for something that isn't going to be just a patch-up job? Christ, Krycek doesn't even have a name for it! Mulder is taking his time, too, like he's putting on a show. Which is exactly what he's doing. He wants Krycek to watch, as he's choosing the right band-aid (as if it's so difficult to pick a fucking band-aid). 'Just do it!' freezes on Krycek's tongue. He doesn't know what Mulder will do if Krycek snaps at him. Mulder is already in a mood so vastly different than even ten minutes ago.
Mulder finally picks a band-aid (they all look the same!) and moves closer to Krycek. Krycek's chest and stomach are a smorgasbord of wounds and hematomas: pick and choose! Mulder zeroes in on one of the smaller wounds (fucking tease...). He's holding Krycek down with his free hand again, and Krycek suppresses an urge to try and remove his hand. He wants to see what disobedience will get him, but this isn't the right time. This is still a test.
Krycek sucks in a breath when Mulder places the cursed band-aid over the open wound with slow precision. He exhales quietly, almost disappointed, when Mulder runs two firm fingers over the bandaged wound. Slowly, and putting just a little too much pressure into it. Krycek's abdominal muscles contract involuntarily, and then Mulder rubs his wound a second time, in the opposite direction: an action so unmistakingly, wickedly deliberate, and it takes Krycek completely by surprise. He lets out a whimper that ends in a quiet but distinct moan.
Breathing rapidly, Krycek looks at Mulder, unable to hide his astonishment. It doesn't take much to get him going, does it? But he doesn't say that, of course. Full of some childish defiance, he raises his eyebrow, saying, "Was that supposed to hurt? Fox?"
xxx
The sound that escapes Krycek travels through Mulder's entire body. (Yesss. Good.) He's not the one who moaned, but the effect it has on him gives him goosebumps as if he had. There's something about the way he forced it to happen, the way it's for him, that makes him feel powerful. In control. And he knows that's exactly what Krycek is begging for. This dynamic is new but also familiar at the same time. The difference is this time they both want it. They're both enjoying it. It still feels like something is at stake; this is so vastly more intimate than their fighting days.
The shock on Krycek's face scares Mulder only for a split second, just long enough for the thought to cross his mind: was it too intentionally cruel to cause him pain? But the concern is fleeting. The sound Krycek had made lingers in Mulder's mind, on his skin, and he's unable to contain the mischievous smile that spreads across his lips. He wants more. They both do.
Of course Krycek has something to say, "Was that supposed to hurt? Fox?" He continues to use Mulder's first name in this act of defiance, his tone mocking. Not, 'was that supposed to hurt?' in an accusatory way, like 'why did you do that?' but in a 'is that really all you've got?' sort of way. This little challenge is far from over as Mulder's eyes darken. Krycek is purposely trying to rile him up, as if that little stunt wasn't good enough. And it's working.
Mulder's jaw sets. (Brat.) He can't just say 'yes,' not only would that be admitting his intention but also admitting defeat. Seeing as apparently one little wound press wasn't enough for Krycek's bad boy persona. But Mulder had just been testing the waters. This was Krycek's way of telling him to go further. (Patience.)
Picking up another bandage and peeling off the back Mulder replies cooly, "Only a little," with a small smirk before reaching in to apply it, but just as he's about to reach a slightly larger wound Krycek's arm lurches forward and grabs him by the wrist before he can do so. The action yanks Mulder closer, and on impulse Mulder reacts by continuing the motion and slamming Krycek's arm down on the counter, his hand now crushing Krycek's. He's now leaning against Krycek's body, his other hand gripping Krycek's thigh as it was the first thing he grabbed onto when yanked forward. They are frozen for a moment, both of them breathing heavily.
"I told you I would restrain you if you didn't behave," Mulder says sharply, but not angrily, his face a mere inch from Krycek's. Krycek's lips are barely a smirk, but Mulder can see it in his eyes. He's daring Mulder to make the next move.
"Patience, Alex," Mulder's voice is low and quiet. Just above a whisper, "Are you gonna be difficult, or are you going to let me continue?" He waits for an answer, Krycek's breath on his lips. Dangerously close again. But he can't kiss him now. He won't. He's determined to see the bandages through, and see where it will take them.
xxx
Mulder likes it. The way his face lights up when Krycek moans from the pressure, even if it's just for a second, is enough. Oh, to be so wanted, so desired that a little moan will make the other man's eyes go dark with lust - it's enough to make a fella cry!
Now that he knows for sure, Krycek wants to give back. To show Mulder that he's no longer the selfish little piece of rat droppings he was when they first met.
He sasses Mulder again, daring him, continuing to test their boundaries, and revels in the sight as Mulder's expression changes, his facial muscles tensing. He looks- no, not angry - stern. They haven't been here long, but long enough for Krycek to see that his little stunt worked. Mulder just keeps proving that Krycek can push his buttons, and that Mulder wants his buttons to be pushed.
Reaching for another bandage like he's reaching for an instrument of torture (yes, please!), Mulder says, "Only a little," with a devious smile on his lips. He's going to put the second bandage on, no doubt expecting the same reaction. And in this instant, Krycek's impatience gets the better of him. He's been so good so far, waiting and not letting himself get carried away. But seeing how Mulder responds to his provocations spurs him on. If he's going over the edge, he's taking Mulder with him.
In a split-second decision, he's grabbing Mulder's approaching hand and pulling him in close. Caught off guard, Mulder loses his balance and lunges forward with the grace of a drunk hippo. He slams his and Krycek's hands into the counter to keep himself from colliding with the man as he smacks his other hand hard on Krycek's thigh (Мама родная!).
The motion brings them so close their foreheads are almost touching. Mulder's panting, and Krycek is watching with a mix of anticipation and fear as Mulder's look changes from shock to quiet fury. Neither of them is moving, their lips so close, Krycek can feel the other mans' breath on his lips. Mulder's hand is still firmly positioned on Krycek's thigh. That, and him having basically trapped Krycek's hand against the counter, the poor rat bastard is now completely overpowered.
"I told you I would restrain you if you didn't behave," Mulder says in a voice that sends shivers down Krycek's spine. Krycek's eyes dart from Mulder's eyes to his insanely full lips. If Krycek kisses him now, he will be throwing away all his hard work. They've come this far. Krycek can't back down now.
"Patience, Alex. Are you gonna be difficult, or are you going to let me continue?" As if Mulder's voice and the implied threat weren't enough it's the 'Alex' that sets Krycek's skin on fire. Mulder calling him by his first name is something so intimate and gentle. It takes him back to the good old days. And he thinks about what he said to himself about wanting to give back. Selflessness and all that jazz. He wants Mulder to enjoy this moment. To take the time he needs. But, he'll be damned if won't claim some reward for his good behavior.
He takes a moment to compose himself, before saying, his voice a ragged whisper, "Say it again," when Mulder gives him a questioning look, he clarifies, " 'Alex'."
xxx
Waiting for Krycek to respond, Mulder feels... sweat. In the tense silence they've been sitting for what feels like an eternity; foreheads both beaded with sweat, so close to touching; their noses almost against each other's faces; their lips both parted, breathing heavily. If Mulder hadn't already kissed Krycek (not even ten minutes ago? It felt like ages..) he probably would've given in by now. So close he can almost taste that tequila again... but just when he's starting to wonder if they'll ever escape...Krycek speaks.
"Say it again," his eyes are as dark as Mulder's as he eyes Mulder's lips, and looks up to meet his gaze, and Mulder can feel the hair on the back of his own neck stand on end. For a second he panics... (say what again?) He's so caught up in the sensations that he can't even think. "Alex," Krycek speaks his own name, barely above a whisper. He's in no position to be making demands, but his ask is so thick with want, he eyes so pleading, Mulder feels weak.
Another moment that feels like an eternity passes as Mulder decides whether or not to oblige. Despite the fact that he's the one dominating the show here, he can't help but feel like Krycek has been the one pulling the strings the entire time. Who's really the one in control? Just like old times, Krycek gets Mulder to play right into his hands.
Mulder considers defying this wish, calling him Krycek instead, (I'm not here just to fulfill your every wish, brat), but what would that get him? Surely rewarding the man with what he wants would be rewarding for both of them…
Mulder makes his decision and leans in closer, his cheek now against Krycek's as he brings his lips to the man's ear. "Is this what you want, Alex?" He speaks slowly, his voice still just above a whisper, but he leans into his name. He can feel Krycek shudder underneath him, their bodies pressed so tightly together. Mulder can't help but grin.
In a swift motion he moves down Krycek's neck, his bare skin just exposed for the taking, and Mulder bites hard at the base of it, causing Krycek to react vocally, with no other outlet as he's unable to move. The sound sends a chill through Mulder and he sucks at the skin with force, aiming to hurt a little - and leave a mark.
He feels Krycek's fingers curl underneath his hand and he does the same, grasping tightly the man's hand and thigh, respectively, digging in with his own fingers.
One agonizingly erotic moment later Mulder releases Krycek all at once, bringing the hand that had been restraining Krycek's hand up to his cheek, and kissing the cheek next to his ear softly before sliding off of him.
He doesn't say another word, doesn't look up to see the look on Krycek's face, as he returns to the pile of bandages and grabs another (the one that had been in his hand when Krycek grabbed him is now MIA). After peeling off the backing, he finally looks up, and the view that greets him makes him aware of just how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. (he's going to kill me) Mulder chuckles to himself, feeling somewhat smug about having that effect on Krycek.
Finally returning to his task, he takes the new bandage, leans back over the man on fire in front of him, and adheres it. Determination written all over his face, he takes his hand and lays his palm against Krycek's skin, pressing his thumb roughly into the bandage. (Moan for me again, rat. Tell me how much you like it.)
xxx
Waiting is a different kind of hell, but Krycek already knows how this works. He knows what effect his words are having on Mulder, and that Mulder will respond. The question that's filling him with sweet dread is 'how will Mulder respond?'
Hovering over him, heat radiating from his body, Mulder half-whispers in his ear, "Is this what you want, Alex?" The name slithers off Mulder's tongue, and coils itself around Krycek, making the hairs on the back of his head stand up, and he actually shivers. He knows Mulder can feel it too, and he can only imagine the smugness on the other man's face.
They have been stuck in this position for so long, that Krycek has lost his vigilance (this much closeness is distracting) and he is completely unprepared for what Mulder does next. Without warning, Mulder lowers his head and bites Krycek's exposed neck, chomping down on him like he's a fucking vampire. Krycek lets out a tortured, surprised yelp, and struggles reflexively. But Mulder still has his hand in a vice, and he tightens his grip against Krycek's attempts to break free, while pressing his other hand hard on Krycek's thigh.
With no means of escape (he told you he was going to restrain you if you kept pushing him!), Krycek relaxes a little, as his strangled whimpers subside into shallow breaths, while Mulder proceeds to suck on his neck. So, this is what disobedience gets him? A hickey? Mulder's giving him a hickey like they're a couple of horny high schoolers? But this isn't just a hickey. This is Mulder taking back the control Krycek stole from him when he pulled his little stunt. This is Krycek's punishment.
Mulder is sucking on the tender, sweaty skin of Krycek's neck with relentless force. His lips, that not fifteen minutes ago were kissing him so tenderly, are now attacking him with vengeful cruelty. And it's fucking intoxicating. Krycek will gladly surrender all control to Mulder if Mulder will continue making him feel this way. There's freedom in surrendering, one that he didn't know was possible.
Krycek feels a moan building up deep within him as Mulder continues to reprimand him. A loud, rich, indulgent moan that will, no doubt, do things to Mulder, too. And that is exactly why Krycek stifles it. He's not going to give Mulder that (not yet). Let him work for it. He settles for a much more ambiguous quiet whimper, and a part of him dies in that moment. To make it up for both of them, Krycek tilts his head, giving Mulder more access to his battered neck, and opening himself up for more pleasure.
When Mulder finally stops, releasing Krycek from his steely grip, it's so sudden that Krycek almost whimpers in protest. But that would only tell Mulder that his little stunt worked, and Krycek can't have that. Then, Mulder surprises him again when he gently cups Krycek's face and places the softest, most loving kiss on his cheek, his full lips going from punishing to comforting in a matter of microseconds. Krycek can't help the hot tears that are now streaming down his face and he's grateful that Mulder isn't looking at him when he returns to those damned bandages.
Krycek wipes the tears away with his now free hand, and flexes his fingers to chase away the cramp. He fights the urge to look in the wall mirror and see the bruise that he knows is already forming on his neck. He rubs his thigh where Mulder's fingers were digging into his flesh, expecting to see a bruise there too, eventually. (Damn it, Mulder! You were supposed to heal my bruises, not give me new ones!) But this doesn't compare. Doesn't compare to what those guys did to him, or to anything Krycek has been through before. They've only been doing this for ten-fifteen minutes, and Krycek is already getting addicted.
Mulder takes another bandage, and his body language and the shadows on his face are telling Krycek that they're not done yet. That Mulder is still angry about being interrupted, and that this is going to hurt.
Mulder looks at him, at the long last, holding the bandage between his thumb and finger, and with a sadistic little smirk drawn across his face. Krycek can't look away, but he's glaring at Mulder, in a pathetic attempt to hide his complete and utter infatuation. When Mulder applies the bandage again, this time on a slightly deeper wound, he does it without ceremony, and without mercy. He slaps the bandage on the tender area, and "smoothes" it over the wound with a hard, mean thumb.
Krycek's senses are already heightened thanks to the tireless efforts of his caregiver, and right now, even the slightest breeze could set him off. So when Mulder presses his hand against his bandaged wound, Krycek can't control the moan that erupts from his chest. A low, desperate sound that ends on a sweet, grateful note.
He looks up at Mulder and his vision gets blurred by the tears. Shit! He doesn't want Mulder to misinterpret his reaction, to think that he's really hurt him. Especially when the words are still echoing in his mind ('Is this what you want, Alex?'). Blinking away the tears, Krycek puts on his most obnoxious face, "Not bad. Maybe a little less teeth next time."
xxx
Mulder gets just a taste of what he's looking for. After pressing his thumb into another wound, Krycek lets out a delicious, sultry sound, clearly involuntarily as he immediately tries to hide it with a glare. But Mulder can see something in his eyes: a pleading desperation that was there when he asked Mulder to say his name. He wants more. Mulder fights the urge to bite his own lip as the sound that escapes Krycek travels through him and he tries to commit every part of it to memory. It's low, gratifying and gorgeous.. but he can tell, somehow, this man is still holding back. And he wants him to release how he really feels.
As if that weren't enough, Krycek looks Mulder dead in the eyes and casts all his efforts aside, "Not bad. Maybe a little less teeth next time," his words are dismissive and almost icy, and for a moment Mulder regrets his impulse to become acquainted with the man's neck, (did you really hate it that much?) But then he remembers the whimpering breaths Krycek had made while he was clamped on and it clicks. (You just don't want to admit how much you're actually enjoying this.)
Mulder scoffs. If there was one thing Krycek always had it was audacity, and here he is, after Mulder basically exposed all of his attraction for this man for the world to see (the mark forming on his neck was absolutely unmistakable) and this asshole has the audacity to insult him: less teeth." What the fuck! Mulder finds himself resisting the urge to actually hurt him for being such a defiant little bitch, but he just doesn't have that anger in him. Not anymore.
The face that looks at him now is still Alex Kycek, the same one he used to use as a punching bag at a moment's notice, but he's different. He's beat up and tired - and desperately trying to hide that he's loving every second of this. And somehow, even though he's being an absolute brat about it, Mulder loves him more - but he's still annoyed.
Mulder reaches forward and grabs Krycek's chin roughly in one hand, clenching his own jaw as he struggles to decide just what to do next. "You're a liar," he blurts out, before even thinking. His frustration getting the best of him for a moment. And of course, his admission that Krycek is actually getting to him slaps a smug little smirk across Krycek's face as if he's challenging him with "and what if I am?" all over again. This pisses Mulder off even more. How can he sit here and continue to deny what they are both feeling when it's so obvious? (It's on purpose, Mulder. He wants to get to you. See what you'll do.)
With his eyes darting between Krycek's smug mouth and knowing eyes, Mulder makes another decision. In a low, threatening voice he says, "You're absolutely loving this, and I'll make you prove it."
Jerking Krycek's face to the side Mulder descends on the man's tender, exposed neck for a second time, and kisses it so softly, so tenderly, that he can hear Krycek's breaths quicken, until he finds a spot that causes Krycek to inhale sharply. He plants his lips there and begins to suck his skin again, this time starting gently, gradually increasing the force. Finally he slips his hand down to the wound he just bandaged, and begins to smooth his thumb over the area he knows will cause a sting, and simultaneously clamps down on the man's neck with his mouth. (I will make you admit you're enjoying this, and then I will make you beg for more, you bold piece of shit.)
xxx
Krycek knows he's overdone it when Mulder's eyes flash with hot fury. It's the kitchen incident all over again, and Krycek is suddenly feeling so small again, dwarfed by Mulder's righteous anger. The main difference is that this time, he's relishing the feeling. He likes the way Mulder is looking at him like he's one more smirk away from devouring him. Helplessness is the worst feeling Krycek knows, but when he's trapped like this between the wall and Mulder's frame, the other man standing so close Krycek can feel his sweat, he wants nothing more than to relinquish all control to this man.
He's trying hard to keep the ungrateful smirk but feels the facade cracking under the knowing gaze of Fox freakin' Mulder. The bruise on Krycek's neck is smarting, reminding him of what Mulder is capable of. And that Krycek is playing with fire. No, not fire. Some awesome implosive force, whose full capacity Krycek has yet to discover. Mulder has proven himself to be quite creative in ways to punish Krycek for his tricks, and Krycek can only guess what's going on in his head right now. What other torture can he think of to get Krycek back for 'less teeth, next time?' So, Krycek sits there, waiting for his verdict like a good little brat that he is, all the while revelling in the sight before him: angry Mulder is a creature of a different breed.
When Mulder grabs Krycek's chin and hisses, "You're a liar," Krycek almost drops the act. Why is he doing this? Why is he torturing Mulder, by holding back like this? After everything Mulder has done for him? Mulder needs to know how he's making Krycek feel. He's earned it. And Krycek wants to tell him. Wants to show him just how wanted Mulder is. That this here is what Krycek has dreamed of for the past twenty-five fucking years. He wants to moan for Mulder, wants to scream for him; to make up for every wound he's inflicted on Mulder in the past.
But in this instant, as Mulder is holding Krycek's face so firmly and so close to his own, his jaw clenching, Krycek can't help it: he knows he can get Mulder to do anything he wants. He can get Mulder to make him suffer in ways he only dared to dream of. He shouldn't be enjoying this - to have this power over the man he loves, but he's Alex fucking Krycek, and he has to live the part. So, when Mulder calls him out, Krycek smirks like the biggest asshole that he is.
No, that was a step too far, because what Mulder does next knocks out all the smart out of Krycek in one merciless moment, "You're absolutely loving this, and I will make you prove it," Mulder practically growls, and with a swift, mean move he turns Kryek's face sideways, exposing his neck, fresh bruise and all. Shit, shit, shit! Of all the elaborate ways to put him in place that Krycek could think of, this was not it. Mulder must have known, then, that Krycek was holding back last time. He knows there's more. And Krycek can only sit there, waiting for the inevitable. His right hand is free this time, but he's frozen in place, too terrified to move. Even his breath is caught in his throat.
Mulder is moving his head closer, and Krycek is expecting to feel the other man's teeth on him again, but instead, Mulder places a light kiss on his neck - lips barely brushing the naked skin. Krycek gasps and closes his eyes. Mulder continues to plant gentle, soothing kisses all over and around the fresh bruise, and Krycek is betrayed by his shallow, rapid breaths. This is a trap. Mulder is kissing him into a sense of false security, and Krycek can't let himself relax even if Mulder's lips feel like the softest velvet against his battered skin. He drops his guard momentarily, and gasps loudly when Mulder reaches a particularly sensitive spot. Mulder smirks, his breath hot against Krycek's damp skin. Damn! All Krycek can do now is squeeze his eyes shut and whimper quietly as Mulder zeroes in on the telltale spot. This time, he's in no hurry; starting off nice and easy, letting himself enjoy the moment. Soft kisses that are getting more greedy, more ruthless as seconds go by, until he's worked himself up to the rhythm Krycek recognises from last time.
Krycek grips the counter with his fingers until he's lost all feeling in them.
Mulder is still holding Krycek's face, and Krycek couldn't move even if he wanted to. Mulder tilts his head ever so slightly to give himself as much access to Krycek as he desires. He's sucking on Krycek's bruise, and it hurts. When Mulder flicks his tongue against the tender spot, Krycek yelps, and does nothing to stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, and colliding with Mulder's fingers. Knowing that he's trapped, helpless, and that he one hundred percent deserves this, makes the pain even sweeter.
As if that weren't enough, there's a hand on the newly bandaged wound, and Krycek's breath hitches as Mulder runs his thumb along the cut underneath the bandage. A stream of Russian curses follow, as Krycek is struggling to focus. To make matters worse Mulder starts rubbing the wounded area and sucking on Krycek's neck in rhythm. Krycek's mind goes hazy and he doesn't notice that he's moaning loudly until it's too late. He's only vaguely aware of the fact that he just lost a major battle, and he doesn't care. Each stroke against his wound, each flick of the tongue against his neck are accompanied by a low, almost purring sound, as Krycek officially declares defeat.
He lets go of the counter and puts his hand on the back of Mulder's head. Digging his fingers into the damp hair he grips tightly and pushes Mulder's head upwards, guiding him to a spot Mulder doesn't know about, knowing that they will both be grateful for it.
xxx
After a stream of kisses and patient torment, Mulder can sense Krycek relinquishing control. His soft sounds are growing louder, more desperate, and Mulder finds himself wanting even more. In a stroke of desire Mulder tilts Krycek's head and leans in deeper. He finds the bruise from round one, and without even thinking flicks his tongue over the wound, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and the sweetness of his skin. Krycek lets out a cry that urges Mulder to do it again, and again, til he finds himself in a rhythm. This was supposed to teach Krycek a lesson, but as he finds himself unable to stop Mulder realizes his mistake. He's addicted to this. To Alex Krycek and his little games.
Digging his thumb into Krycek's poor bruised torso the sound of Krycek cursing greets Mulder's ears. As if the helpless wimpers this grown man had been making weren't enough, hearing a slew of indiscernible but distinct profanities fills Mulder with even more adrenaline. He's winning this, and it only encourages him. He's getting to Krycek and he knows it. They both do.
A few more seconds that seem like hours go by, and Krycek is moaning. Mulder can't get enough of it, finding himself leaning closer with his whole body. He's practically devouring the man, again clamped onto his neck like a greedy teenager, taking and indulging in his new found freedom. And for a split second Mulder realizes what he's doing. He had sworn he wouldn't let himself get carried away, but that bastard wouldn't stop pushing him! And now they'd both lost control. There's a conscience in the back of Mulder's mind that is laughing at him for this, but Krycek is practically purring as Mulder continues his torture, wreaking havoc on his neck and teasing the wound on his torso, and Mulder is intoxicated by it. He can't stop. Not now.
Krycek has clearly stopped trying to hide what he's going through as hot tears leak onto Mulder's hand (shit -) and for a moment Mulder wonders (for the umpteenth time) if he's gone too far, cursing himself for losing his temper, and his self-control along with it, but all regrets are futile as the man he's clinging to rewards him for his efforts. The sounds escaping Krycek tell him that this is no mistake, this is welcome. And in an instant Krycek's hand comes to grip Mulder tightly by the neck. (There you are.)
Feeling the need in the other man's touch on his own neck, Mulder knows he has him right where he wants him. Krycek grips him tightly and pushes him towards what he wants…
Mulder takes his time hovering over the place Krycek pushes him towards. "Is this what you want, Alex?" Mulder repeats his earlier sentiment with his breath on Krycek's neck, close to his ear. There's a soft whimper in response, and most likely more tears, and Mulder can't help but grin against the man's ear. He's absolutely addicted to being wanted like this, having this power over Krycek, knowing that all those years of physical tension weren't something he had imagined. Krycek wasn't the only one who had felt something, but it had been harder for Mulder to admit after what they'd been through. Hard to let go. But now, now he holds the power, if only for a second. Krycek asked something of him, and this time Mulder wants payment first.
"Say it!" Mulder whispers sharply, moving his lips along Krycek's battered neck, "Tell me that you want it. That you want me." and Mulder nips gently at Krycek's neck just to get another reaction out of him, teasing him into giving Mulder what he wants before playing into Krycek's manipulating hands. "Beg for what you want, you rat bastard," the pet name rolls off his tongue simultaneously like an accusation and a term of endearment, as he hovers over the place Krycek had pushed him towards.
A few seconds pass as Krycek struggles to find the strength to say anything, and Mulder keeps pushing. He parts his lips against the sensitive area of Krycek's neck and whispers, "Alex" against his skin, planting one gentle kiss, and preparing to use all his strength to indulge him in what he asks for, should he ask.
xxx
Krycek surrendered. He had let Mulder know, and showed it to him. What else does this man need when he's saying, "Is this what you want, Alex?" holding his lips so close to Krycek's neck but not touching the hot skin? Mulder is calling him by his first name again, turning Krycek's own selfish demand against him. (You know it is!) Krycek whimpers impatiently in response, fingers clutching at Mulder's hair feebly. He's lost all self-control, and what was left of his self-respect along with it. He hates how weak he is, but he loves Mulder more. And he loves what Mulder is doing to him; how tightly he has Krycek wrapped around his finger.
But those lips are no longer on Krycek's skin, and he's never felt this naked, this cold, this abandoned before. It dawns on him at this moment just how badly he's lost. That he can never be without the other man's gentle touch ever again, and that Mulder knows it. (You've played yourself, Alex Krycek!) and now Mulder wants him to beg. To give up the last remains of his pride to get what he can't be without. It's only fair. After all the times Krycek had manipulated Mulder; after all the years of cowardly torture… it's only fair.
(Looks like America has won the Cold War once again!) Krycek would've chuckled at that if he weren't busy whimpering breathlessly, trying to find his footing. He's never been here before. No one has ever taken him to this place. A place where he can taste the other man's love for him in the salt of his own tears.
"Beg for what you want, you rat bastard!" Mulder hisses, and just for that Krycek finds enough strength in his wrecked body to hold out for a little longer. And this moment, frozen in time, with Mulder's own body pressed tightly against Krycek's naked torso, his breath infuriatingly hot against Krycek's skin, and Krycek's hand in Mulder's hair - this is the calm before the storm. Krycek feels it with the hairs on his skin: his own approaching demise. Mulder will get Krycek to beg, even if that means playing dirty. Which he does.
"Alex," he whispers again gently, lovingly, and places his lips on the sensitive spot on Krycek's battered neck. And Krycek loses it, "Пожалуйста, Малдер!" (Pozhalusta/Please, Mulder!), Krycek can hear himself whimpering, "Люби меня, пожалуйста!" (Lyubi menya/Love me, please!). He's saying the words over and over again, with no thought, without realising that he's speaking Russian (Mulder doesn't know any Russian, you dumb fuck!) He switches to English, the desperation not lost in translation, "I want you, Mulder! Please, don't leave me again!" his voice is quiet but charged with intensity that's almost scary, "I missed you so much, Mulder. Please…" words finally betray him, and for a second time tonight, Krycek breaks down like a weak old sack of shit that he is. He lets go of Mulder's head and covers his eyes with his hand, as he's weeping quietly, and silently hating himself for taking it this far.
xxx
No sooner do Mulder's lips reach the sensitive spot on Krycek's neck, something breaks, something goes wrong, the dam gives way, and suddenly Krycek is spilling his desires (fears?) faster than his mind can keep up. The fact that the words pour out of him in Russian instead of English says even more than the words themselves (and not just because Mulder can't understand them) but his tone and desperation make the message loud and clear. Mulder has broken him. It's no longer a battle of will, Krycek has nothing left as he begs Mulder shamelessly never to leave him again and begins to cry.
After all that build up, all that tension, hearing the sound of Krycek begging for Mulder's love as if for his life is not what Mulder had been asking for. Not at all his plan. The desperation in his voice, the fear? Mulder's heart practically breaks in two. He had wanted to break Krycek but - not in this way. He had wanted to cut through that sarcastic exterior and give him something beautiful, to please him in a way he thought Krycek wanted. But once again he pushed it too far, and now the man he wanted to spoil with his affections is instead weeping in front of him again. (Mulder you fucked up!)
He should've remembered that Krycek was still traumatized, but he had gotten so wrapped up in all the man's little taunts that he couldn't see that it was all a defense mechanism. Now it was all clicking into place.
Heart still racing from the closeness, Mulder takes a step back and scoops up Krycek's face in both of his hands again, not letting him hide or allow him to feel shameful. Not now, not after all they had done. "Alex," he says, kind, gentle, and sincere, "Alex, I'm not going to leave you. I'm right here. I came here…." and he feels it. He feels it building up inside him. The thing he never thought he'd know for sure or have the courage to say, and suddenly it's the only thing he can think of.
"I came here because, I love you."
Krycek's eyes suddenly focus, locking with his, and something gives way in both of them because Mulder finds himself also with tears streaming down his face. He's not ashamed like he was before, he knows Krycek isn't going to hate him for it this time.
Looking through tears into the tear-filled eyes in front of him, so full of disbelief and admiration, Mulder finds himself unable to stop the words from coming out. It's over, he's not holding back anymore.
"I think, I think I always have. Even when we were at each other's throats," a small chuckle escapes through the tears, "You just have this way of getting under my skin in a way I can't resist, can never get enough of." He's cradling Krycek's face so tenderly, the love radiating from him as the words tumble out, and at this point he can't stop them. Doesn't want to. He grasps Krycek just a little tighter without even realizing it as his own words grow more intense, as if he's trying to convince Krycek like his own life depends on it.
"Why do you think, after every sarcastic remark you make, every button you push, things that should anger and push me away, I keep coming back? I think you knew too, deep down, but maybe you didn't believe it. But for Christ's sake Alex I can't help myself around you! I tried to just be here for you, be a friend, and in a matter of hours look what it's gotten me? What it's gotten us?" he pauses to take a breath, rubbing his thumb against Krycek's cheek, the other man's tears soaking his own hands.
"I can't pretend anymore. So, all the cards are on the table, Alex. I feel the same way you do. I have for a long time. I've wondered, where you've been and how you were doing, the faint hope that one day you might show up and challenge me again, always in the back of my mind. That's why I kissed you that night at the bar. Impulsively, I admit, but I had to know. I had to know if those feelings were real. And boy did I find out. And now, now that the floodgates have opened," he presses the back of his fingers to Krycek's cheek in an effort to dry his tears, "I can't stop. I don't want to," and Mulder smiles softly, his eyebrows all crinkled up.
Krycek is looking at him in such a way, with so much behind his eyes, that for the first time Mulder knows for sure he's done the right thing. This must've been how Krycek felt after telling him. It was so freeing to just let it out. And although a part of him regrets not just giving Krycek what he had wanted in that tense moment, taunting him instead and depriving them of the pleasure he's sure it would have given both of them, this, this, seemed worth everything they had been through.
xxx
Krycek doesn't know what happened or why he's crying for the second time tonight. One moment Mulder was teasing him, tormenting him in the sweetest, most intoxicating way possible, and the next moment Krycek's rib cage turned into steel, squeezing his heart and lungs until he couldn't breathe. "Beg me for my love, rat!" Mulder kept saying and suddenly, Krycek was back in the world where he had to be without Mulder - without the only good thing in his life - and he was overtaken with some primal, marrow-sucking fear.
He knows - he knows that this is not what Mulder meant. Not what he was trying to say. They were just playing. Mulder was doing this for him; indulging Krycek in his selfish desires. How did it turn so wrong so fast? All Krycek knows is that he doesn't want to lose Mulder again. Not to the bad guys. Not to aliens. Not to himself.
God, he can't even remember what he was saying! Only that most of it was in Russian, and Mulder couldn't understand him, so Krycek's at least grateful for that. A grown-ass man having a full-blown panic attack after having his neck sucked on: that's a first! He's covering his eyes, hiding from the world. Hiding from Mulder, and from himself. This, too, will pass, and then they both can go back to whatever normalcy they have been carving out for themselves this past hour.
But It doesn't take long until Mulder is taking Krycek's meltdown in his own hands again - literally - as he's cupping his face, forcing Krycek to open his eyes and face reality. Mulder is concerned and ashamed and a little dazed from just having been feasting on Krycek's neck for a good ten minutes.
"Alex," he says, in the most calming and reassuring way, "Alex, I'm not going to leave you. I'm right here," and Krycek believes him. Mulder isn't just saying this to calm down a hysterical patient. He means it.
And even though it's not a trick, it's working. Krycek is focusing on Mulder's eyes, and on Mulder's hands on his cheeks, and his world is coming into focus again. He sighs a little, ready to apologise again, but then Mulder says something else. And it knocks the wind right out of Krycek, pulls the rug from under his feet, and all that, "I came here… I came here because I love you."
That's what he says: "I love you." It's not a joke. Not a trick to make Krycek feel better. Mulder means it. It's not just the words, but the tone of his voice, the sincerity, the excitement in his eyes, like he's about to take his first ride on a rollercoaster: Mulder loves him.
And having said the words - the words that Krycek didn't think he needed to hear (what a lie that was!) - Mulder starts crying too. And Krycek's heart breaks and melts at the same time. He can see how much Mulder has been struggling with admitting this, even to himself. How difficult it must have been for him to carry it all within, not knowing how to address it. He knows because he's been where Mulder is now.
(I have to say something. I need to comfort him.) But Mulder doesn't stop talking, even through the tears. He needs to say this. And Krycek will hear it. Krycek will hear what decades of conspiracies and betrayal had kept Mulder from feeling, let alone expressing. Krycek is all ears. His whole world has been reduced to the space between Mulder's gentle but firm hands, and Krycek is listening to the words that his own self-hate is trying to tell him are not true. Krycek doesn't trust himself. But he trusts Mulder.
Mulder calls him by his first name while his hold on Krycek's mess of a face tightens. "Alex," he keeps saying over and over again. And it's no longer a game. This is Mulder's way of making Krycek listen, really listen to what he's saying. To make the words penetrate the sarcastic "bad boy" armor. "Alex," he says, and Krycek is fighting the impulse to hide behind some ironic and self-deprecating quip. Is Mulder sure he loves Krycek or does he just have a thing for broken objects? It's so scary to just accept the truth that Mulder sees him as someone worth loving. Someone who can be good. He'd love to someday be able to see himself the way Mulder sees him.
"I love you," Mulder says, until Krycek is standing (fine! sitting) in front of him, stripped of all his defences and robbed of his disguises. He has no choice but to let himself be loved. Maybe this is the first step? Towards healing, redemption or whatever it is he's supposed to go through to become something that resembles a real person? "I can't stop. I don't want to," Mulder says, and wipes Krycek's tears with the back of his hand.
They're sitting like this for a little while, as Mulder waits for Krycek to say something, and Krycek is just taking in the sight before him. How the fuck did this shit happen, anyway? He loves Mulder, but as he's hearing Mulder say these words for the first time to him he realizes that he hasn't said "I love you" to Mulder since his big confession at the bar. Krycek isn't good with words, unless he's lying through his teeth or spewing some profound philosophical nonsense. Honesty - unless he's drunk - has to be forced out of him.
He told Mulder how scared he was of physical intimacy only after he had made Mulder lose his temper. This night has been one trigger-response reaction after another, with Mulder pushing Krycek, and Krycek begging for more. Does he always have to be pushed to the absolute limit of his comfort zone to say what he really feels?
"I hate feeling helpless. Exposed," Krycek says, finally. He's tired, but he needs to say it. All of it, "You're the only one that can make me feel this way, and get away with it. You always have," and he's not just talking about tonight, "and I can't get enough of it, myself. I love you, Mulder."
He sighs like he's been awake for a full week - and it feels this way. Mulder's eyes light up, and he rubs Krycek's face with his thumbs. Krycek puts his hand on top of Mulder's, "God, Mulder, I've loved you for so long! I don't remember a time when I didn't love you."
He licks his lips, thankful that Mulder is letting him pour his dirty little heart out, "I was brought into your life to cause you pain, and it's all I've been doing ever since. I don't wanna do that anymore. I don't wanna be that guy anymore. I want to - finally - have the chance to show you what you mean to me. That this is real for me. I wanna make you happy," he shrugs apologetically, aware of how corny and stupid he sounds.
"I'm sorry about tonight. I took it too far. I'm probably not in the best shape for these - games. Shit got intense," he chuckles. "It's just that you're so good at this. I shoulda known. It's always the quiet ones," he gives Mulder a teasing, affectionate look. "And I like it. I like the way you're doing - this. All of it," he nods towards the soapy washcloth and to the bandages. He's looking at Mulder, and is suddenly taken aback by how freely he's been talking about this. He can do this. He's already doing this, "I don't know, it makes me feel wanted. Cared for. Makes me feel like I matter to you. But if it's not something you're into, I understand. I still love you," he gives Mulder's hand a little squeeze, offering him a weak but sincere smile.
xxx
After a long pause, with Mulder realizing how vulnerable he has made himself in an effort to comfort the man in front of him, Krycek speaks,
"I hate feeling helpless. Exposed. You're the only one that can make me feel this way, and get away with it. You always have. And I can't get enough of it, myself. I love you, Mulder."
The words come tumbling out of Krycek like they had come out of Mulder. He realizes his face is getting hot, but he's still holding Krycek's face and he can't abandon him now. Krycek sighs and Mulder reassures him by gently rubbing his thumbs against his cheek. The gesture is returned by Krycek pressing his hand against Mulder's and they're back where they were a half hour ago (how long have they been here?) But this time it's different. They're not communicating through glances and unspoken words anymore. Mulder has said his peace, and Krycek is rewarding him for it.
"I love you," Krycek says over and over, quite literally, and it's supposed to be reassuring, or maybe it's just because he needs to say it, but Mulder is now feeling worried all over again. It's obvious Krycek has felt this way and known for much longer than Mulder realized. And now that he's been honest with the man he's terrified of hurting him. Screwing it up again, or worse than before. At least before he could claim surprise, now he doesn't have that excuse.
"I wanna make you happy," Krycek says, and Mulder feels a new wave of tears come on. (You don't have to do anything to make me happy. Just giving me a chance to get to know you now is enough.)
But if that weren't enough, then Krycek says more. He tells Mulder he likes everything he's doing. Not in a joking, or smart way, he just gives him the truth. And the realization of what he's doing to this man hits Mulder again. Sure these were all fun little games, the taunting, the teasing, the tension, but their feelings were real. "It makes me feel wanted, cared for, makes me feel like I matter to you." And the soul-crushing reality of how he has treated Krycek all these years comes crashing down on him All at once. All the lies, the abuse, the manipulation between them, and this man had loved him the entire time, and Mulder is just only really understanding the gravity of it now. (I'm so sorry Alex.)
Of course he had had an inkling of it, he had admitted that much, but he had never really ever given Krycek the time of day. He had moments of realizing how ridiculous it would be, for Krycek to be in love with him, having killed his own father, threatened everyone he'd loved, and manipulated him every time he showed up, but then again - wasn't that the perfect excuse? It wasn't allowed, couldn't happen. Orders needed to be carried out and Krycek's hands were always tied, and so were Mulder's. Maybe that's why he had stuffed down any attraction he knew was there.
But now, now that Krycek is breaking down before him just to feel like he matters to Mulder? That hurts more than all the traumatized tears Krycek had shared with him the entire night, because this is his fault. He realizes he should be touched by this, flattered, but the more Krycek exposes how much he had wanted just the slightest bit of Mulder's affection, the guiltier it makes Mulder feel. It makes him want to fly across the world all over again just to prove he's paying attention.
And yet, this isn't what Krycek is saying to him. The bastard is so full of his own guilt that he's thanking Mulder for all of it. And Mulder is grateful for that - it's reassuring to know for sure that Krycek shared his desire for their little games (thank God he hadn't crossed the line), but - even after all the outpouring of reassurance that everything Mulder was doing was right, Krycek says something that confirms Mulder's fears.
"If it's not something you're into, I understand. I still love you."
Boom. There it is. He had dismissed Krycek for so long, that even after travelling across the world, dressing his wounds, and bearing his own soul, Krycek still doubts him. Part of Mulder wants to shake him, (you think I'm not into it after the way we just spent the last ten minutes? The last hour?) But now he understands. Mulder had never given Krycek any acknowledgement, why should Krycek suddenly just accept Mulder returns his feelings? And yet, this man is worried about making him happy?
At a loss for words and realizing how much work is really cut out for them, Mulder inhales deeply, puts his arms around Krycek, and hugs him tight.
He wants to say something else but Krycek has said everything he needed to, and Mulder can hear the exhaustion in Krycek, and in himself. He knows they have a lot more to process, but there would be plenty of time for that. Right now they need to breathe.
He puts his face in the crook of Krycek's neck and squeezes him tightly, just holding him for a moment, breathing him in. When he lets go, he gives Krycek a small kiss on the neck as he leans back, places his arms on the other man's shoulders, and gives them a gentle squeeze.
"You matter to me, Alex. More now than I ever realized, I'm sorry it took me so long. I want you to understand that I'm doing everything here, now, because I want to. And I'm going to take very good care of you." Mulder says in the most reassuring tone he can muster. (You are wanted), he wants to add, but doesn't have the courage quite yet.
As if to prove his point, Mulder picks up the washcloth again, eyeing the newly appearing bruises on Krycek's neck, and rinses it again. It's quiet for a moment, a comfortable silence, but a tired one for both of them. They've been through so much in so little time in this little bathroom, and he's dying to lighten the mood. He brings the newly cleaned and warm washcloth up to Krycek's neck and presses it gently to his fresh bruises. He may be exhausted but he's also not unaware of Krycek's reaction to the touch. Suddenly something Krycek said jumps out in his mind.
"You think I'm quiet?" For a second Krycek's eyes looked panicked, as if he realizes he said something that could be offensive, and then Mulder cracks a smile and is rewarded with one in return. "I always just assumed people wanted my paranoid ass to shut up," and he lets out an honest laugh as he holds the warm cloth to Krycek's cheek. Looking at him in this moment he's sure, even if he's still trying to understand it himself, but he loves the asshole sitting in front of him, and he wants to do everything he can to start over, and better.
xxx
Professing his love for Mulder that eternity ago at the bar was among the scariest things Krycek got to do. As for tonight… from the moment he let Mulder inside his childhood home to when he gave him the grand tour of his deepest and most shameful fears it had been one leap into the great unknown after another. Christ, even letting Mulder dress his wounds had felt like an act of courage. But Mulder was there with him, every step of the way, catching Krycek when he was about to fall.
So, now, when Krycek does his unscripted soliloquy, looking Mulder dead in the eye, he's not afraid. Mulder has shown him - told him in plain English how he feels about him. When Krycek is finished he doesn't expect anything. He's so tired, and so, so content that he doesn't want anything more out of this moment. They should probably resume the bandaging, because that stab wound-
Krycek lets out a stifled grunt when Mulder pulls him into a hug. It's tight and Mulder seems to have forgotten about Krycek's multiple injuries as he's leaning in with his whole body. This is so different from their last hug. It's still warm and comforting and all those wonderful things, but it's also desperate, as if Mulder is trying to reach into the past and compensate for all the time they had lost.
For a self-indulgent second, Krycek is trying to imagine how young Alex Krycek - that pencil-pushing whipping boy of the Bureau in a bad tie - would have reacted to this display of affection from the man he had spent many a sleepless night dreaming about. What if Mulder had returned Krycek's feelings then? Would that have been enough for Krycek to break free from the Syndicate's chokehold on him, and save them all the time and the pain?
Not that Krycek ever felt entitled to Mulder's favour, or even blamed him for how things had turned out. (LIAR.) Did Krycek not spend years choking on his own bitterness and blood blaming Mulder (and the rest of the Justice League) for all the pain and injustices done to him? Rotting away in a cell in Tunisia or screaming in that fucking silo until he was coughing up blood: did he not curse Fox Mulder in those moments? And did he not - and here's the kicker - did he also not pray that Mulder would come and rescue him?
And it hits him, finally, why Mulder was looking at him with such intensity when Krycek was spilling the beans just now. He looked almost angry. It wasn't anger: it was guilt. (Jesus Christ, Mulder! What do you have to feel guilty about?) But he does feel guilty, and when Krycek tries to see it from Mulder's perspective instead of his own for once, he gets it. And it's not just the bloody lips and the general abuse that Mulder feels guilty about. It must be… hell, Krycek doesn't know. But the guilt is real to Mulder, and the best thing Krycek can do right now is acknowledge it, just like Mulder has acknowledged Krycek's own suffering.
He puts his arm around Mulder and pulls him closer still, ignoring the pain. He freezes momentarily when Mulder buries his face in Krycek's neck - the site of multiple insanguinations, but Mulder just rests his head in the crook of his neck, holding him tight, like Krycek is his shelter from the great, cruel world out there.
He knows the feeling - he does now: the feeling of warmth, safety, and space. To think that Mulder would find Krycek comforting, that he would feel safe in Krycek's embrace! Krycek was a lot of things in his life, but a source of comfort was never one of them. All he could offer was pain and suffering. And he didn't even realise how much he needed this. He needs - he wants to be this source of comfort and safety, especially to Mulder.
After a long, sweet minute, Mulder releases Krycek and places a gentle kiss on his neck (you have a problem, Agent Mulder!) He puts his hands on Krycek's bare shoulders and says, sounding as sincere as ever, "You matter to me, Alex," and then he starts apologizing, confirming Krycek's suspicions; but he finishes with, "I'm going to take very good care of you," and these words sound just as sweet as the "I love you." Krycek can't help the dopey, idiotic grin as he's looking at Mulder like a lovestruck teenager. No, he will never get enough of this.
Keeping with his promise, Muder rinses that damn washcloth again, and dabs Krycek's newest bruises with it gently. There's something special about Mulder tending to the bruises that he is responsible for, that he gave Krycek in a moment of passion. The water is warm, Mulder's touch is gentle and comforting, and Krycek closes his eyes, giving in to the feeling of absolute safety. Who knew it could be like that? Who knew he could lose his defenses and unravel into an emotional mess from touch alone? Or that his body could be a source of pleasure instead of agony? Something to be spoiled and cherished, and not used and pulled apart?
Krycek loses the track of time, and when Mulder speaks Krycek's almost positive he has actually dozed off: "You think I'm quiet," Mulder's tone is sombre but his eyes are full of mischief. Krycek is trying to read him, but then Mulder gives him his patented Fox Mulder smile and says. "I always just assumed people wanted my paranoid ass to shut up," and he laughs at his own joke triumphantly, as he's holding the washcloth to Krycek's sweaty, feverish face. He looks so proud of himself, having successfully returned Krycek's sass to him. But he also looks so full of love for the man he's sassing, that Krycek can't hold back the smile when he says, "Shut up and kiss me, dork!"
xxx
"Shut up and kiss me, dork!" Krycek suddenly blurts out, clearly caught up in the moment of smiles and laughter, and Mulder has to look away for a second to hide the redness that rushes to his face. It's still sweet but it's also a reminder that this comfort and ease is still new, and can still catch him off guard.
Despite how impulsive and aggressive he'd been in the last hour, hearing the words "kiss me" out loud (and from Krycek) brings another level of self-consciousness to what he had been doing - which several times had led to Krycek (and himself, to be fair) having an emotional outburst. Krycek had said he wasn't in shape for these games, but when Mulder looks up again to see Krycek looking at him like a kid about to get candy, he can't bear the thought of turning him down.
"We're never gonna finish with these bandages, are we?" Mulder smiles weakly as he puts down the washcloth again, places both his hands on the counter on either side of Krycek, and leans in closer. With his eyes on Krycek's lips he nudges his nose teasingly into Krycek's. "Maybe we shouldn-'' but he never gets to finish the thought as Krycek puts his hand on the back of Mulder's neck and pulls him into the kiss. (impatient little bastard.)
As soon as their lips make contact again an instant adrenaline rush hits Mulder and his heart speeds up. He's sure Krycek feels it too because he pulls Mulder closer still. They're not being timid anymore, they both know they want this (that's a little what Mulder is afraid of.)
His hands find their way to Krycek's face and the back of his neck and he's feeling like it's the bar all over again. Krycek tilts his head and Mulder kisses him deeply, their lips parting and colliding roughly. He is still able to recognize the faint taste of tequila and can't help but smirk against the other man's eager kiss. He hadn't wanted to get distracted again, but now that they were here he found himself finally able to indulge without worrying.
He opens his eyes just a smidge to find Krycek doing the same, desire burning in those dark eyes, and it makes him want more. More of this openness, this intensity. Even though they had put all their feelings out in the open, there was still something that seemed a little forbidden about being like this with Alex Krycek that made it extra exciting. Even with the conspiracies and their puppeteers long gone...it still felt like they were getting away with something they weren't supposed to just by being in the same room together.
Suddenly Krycek grips the hair on the back of Mulder's head and it catches him off guard (shouldn't have let my thoughts wander!) and Mulder lets out a soft moan (shit!) against the other man's lips. Now it's Krycek's turn to discover that he isn't the only one that likes their dynamic a bit rougher as Mulder starts to lose his grip on his self-control.
xxx
They are caught in a time loop: every time the two of them try and get the job done, one of them starts escalating the tension (alright, Krycek starts escalating), until they reach a breaking point, and one way or another they end up in each other's arms.
In Mulder's defense, he did try to be reasonable, but his common sense was no match for Krycek's impatience (this is why you keep getting in trouble! Can't get enough punishment?) No matter what it would get him, Krycek went for it.
"Kiss me!" he had said, spurred on by the words he thought he'd never hear; by Mulder's honesty and kindness. Ask and you shall receive! Mulder's lips crashing into him; Mulder's hands cradling Krycek's face so tenderly. Even through his own impatience, Mulder is still being gentle with him, and Krycek loves it, even though a part of him wishes Mulder were a little bolder. But this familiarity is an illusion created by comfort. The reality is still new and unexplored, and they need to proceed with caution.
Caution is torture because Mulder tastes (Oh, god, he tastes like me!). The taste of Krycek's own skin and sweat on Mulder's lips is something so forbidden and indulgent. Should he even be enjoying this? To answer his own question, Krycek tilts his head a little and moans loudly when Mulder slips deeper into his hungry mouth, as their tongues are fighting for control.
As cheesy as it sounds, it feels like everything they've been doing tonight has been leading up to this moment. The two of them smooching carelessly, like people do. Like it's what they were supposed to be doing all along instead of fighting each other. It's a giant middle finger to all the evil forces that had kept them apart all these years; that had kept them on the opposing sides of this senseless war. A war that wasn't even theirs to fight. A couple of pawns, that's what they were. Well, no more!
Krycek loves Mulder, and he's finally - fucking finally! - allowed to show it. And he loves how he made Mulder blush with his little "Kiss me, dork!" That he made Fox Mulder - the master of innuendo and off-color jokes - turn a nice, deep shade of red with words alone is feeding his ego, making him hungrier for Mulder's touch. To have that kind of power over Mulder? It's worth everything they've endured to get here.
And the way Mulder rubbed his nose against Krycek's before giving him a full work-up? This easy-going, friendly intimacy? This is one of those tiny little moments that tell you how loved you are, and Krycek didn't realise how much he had missed that.
'Thank you for the snow globe, Alex!' Mulder had said. (There's something else you could be thanking me for, Fox! If you let me. If you forgive me enough to show you how much I love you.) All in due time, his mind - what's left of it - seems to be saying, but Krycek can't help himself. He opens his eyes - just a little - because he has to see. Has to steal a glance at this man to whom he has surrendered. Christ! He didn't expect Mulder to be looking back at him, with a dazed, dirty look in his eyes.
Krycek goes Pavlonian, and grips Mulder's hair tightly, his fingers greedy and rough. For a microsecond, in some part of his mind that's still self-aware Krycek panics - (took it too far! Took it too far!) But then Mulder lets out a moan. Krycek just made Mulder moan. The low, guttural sound that erupts from the depths of Mulder's throat should be making Krycek grip his hair even tighter, to take it even further, just to see how far he can take it.
Instead, as Mulder is moaning into his mouth Krycek loosens his grip a little, and cradles Mulder's head gently, rewarding him with a deep, excruciatingly slow kiss. And when Mulder moans again, Krycek loses himself completely. Eyes closed, safe in the arms of his best friend he allows himself to let go, And to love himself. Even just for one moment.
He could do this all night. Just stay in this bathroom and make out with Mulder until they both run out of breath. But the stabbing (Haha! Get it?) pain in his side reminds him at the most inopportune time that they still have work to do. They're only two bandages in, and with the rate that they're going they will probably be done by Christmas.
Feeling like a child that has been denied candy, Krycek pulls away from Mulder's lips. Still in the moment and overwhelmed by this protective affection, he peppers Mulder's face with soft little pecks - first, his cheeks, then the nose, and the little stubble right under the lower lip, and - finally - that beautiful damp forehead.
"I hate myself for saying this, but we should probably try and finish up here," he licks his lips and gives Mulder a look of perfect contentment, "I'll be a good patient this time, I promise." (Unless you don't want me to).
xxx
Mulder finds himself moaning again as Krycek softens his grip and eases his tongue slowly along his own. He'd expected more roughness, but the painstaking slowness is even more enthralling as it is unexpected. (Krycek, why are you so good at this?) Mulder's giving more away than he had planned, Krycek bringing the sounds right out of him with his slow torture, and Mulder can't get enough. He takes what Krycek is giving him, and lets him take what he wants out of him, completely at the mercy of the gentle but confident actions of the other man.
Krycek pulls away at last, and Mulder can feel his face flush. He feels warm all over, but his face is burning hot with desire from the closeness. He looks at Krycek through heavy lids, only to be showered in small, affectionate kisses. Again it's so unexpected, it makes him laugh. Alex Krycek, giving him butterfly kisses? It's such a loving, sweet action, and Mulder really starts to wonder about everything they've missed out on if Krycek has been capable of such kindness all these years. He refuses to let himself taint this moment with guilt, but he can't help but wonder what else he has to learn as Krycek rests his lips on Mulder's sweaty forehead.
"I hate myself for saying this, but we should probably try and finish up here," Krycek says in a rough voice and licks his lips. The look on his face is contentment, and Mulder can't help but feel empowered that it was he that made Krycek look like this, knowing how loved he, himself felt in this moment. "I'll be a good patient this time, I promise," Krycek says earnestly, and Mulder believes him, though there's a mischievous look in his eyes that says he could change his mind.
Krycek has lulled Mulder into such a state of infatuation with his gentle, slow affections, that he'd almost forgotten that he was supposed to be the one keeping them on track. (Fuck these bandages, I'm so tired, let's just go to sleep) he thinks, but he knows it needs to be done properly so that his friend - (make-out buddy?) can heal.
Mulder gives Krycek's face one last gentle caress down the length of his jawline before looking down at the work in front of him. "Alright," he says, "Let's finish this."
He unwraps several band-aids this time, and starts placing them on one after another: one, two, three, each time with just a little bit of pressure. Not as much as when he was intending to hurt, but also just a little more than what is necessary, and he studies Krycek's expression each time. He can tell there's a want for more, but they're both just so exhausted. It's enough just to acknowledge it. (There will be more opportunities for teasing later.)
Without another peep out of his patient, Mulder finishes with the normal band-aids. He takes a moment to package up what's left back into the box, and pulls out the disinfectant and the butterfly bandages.
"Are you ready for this?" Mulder asks gently, Krycek looking half asleep. He can't help but reach out and touch his cheek again. "If you're good, there might be a little reward in it for you," Mulder raises his eyebrow, the tiniest of smirks gracing his battered lips.
xxx
Mulder looks so tired that Krycek has half a mind to tell him to go to bed, and that they can finish up tomorrow. But he suspects that this will only double Mulder's resolve (single-minded son of a bitch!)
It's not Krycek's fault they lost the track of time. He can't tear his adoring eyes off Mulder as he's laughing, slightly embarrassed by being showered with affection. Krycek can't help it, okay? He's in love, he's high on endorphins, and he's feeling good about himself for once. (Let me shower you with as much affection as I can, Mulder!) Does Mulder know how much it means for Krycek to hear him laugh like this? To see that dopey smile on his stupid face and know that it's all Krycek's doing? (Let me do this for you, Mulder! Let me do this for that pencil-pushing little pissant.) And for the howling monster locked up underground, who's gone mad with fear.
"Alright, let's do this," Mulder says, and as if not wanting this moment to end, he strokes Krycek's face one last time before getting back to the bandages. Krycek promised to behave, and Mulder takes him up on it, applying the bandages without the previous spectacle. Still, what they're doing is as intimate as it was before. Like this moment is just for the two of them. Krycek's injuries - for all their ghastly nature - are theirs to treat. Krycek's body is theirs to spoil and to enjoy.
There is just as much thrill in being good as it is in acting out. In actively obeying Mulder, and trusting his knowing touch. In fulfilling this want to make Mulder happy, to make him proud. Krycek has enough self-awareness to know that he craves other people's approval. Always has. This was partly what had led to his downfall: the insecure little people-pleaser, perfect for manipulation and degradation, and it is something he's been working hard on ridding himself of. Still, as he's submitting to the care of the man he loves, feeling perfectly safe under his firm hand, he can't help himself. He craves Mulder's approval. Is it healthy? Probably not, but at this moment, with Mulder applying the bandages with just enough pressure to make Krycek feel it, and watching his face for any sign of discomfort, Krycek doesn't care. He wants Mulder. He will do anything for this man.
All this, of course, is leading up to the pièce de résistance of Krycek's sexy injuries: the stab wound. "Are you ready for this?" Mulder asks softly, almost apologetically. The bottle of disinfectant in his hand looks menacing, but Mulder strokes Krycek's cheek gently, adding, "If you're good, there might be a little reward in it for you."
It was only an hour ago that just the thought of Mulder touching the wound and its searing edges triggered some primal nauseating fear in Krycek, but so much has happened since Krycek's epic meltdown. The two of them have - without even knowing it - worked so hard to help Krycek get to this moment, accomplished so much in this short span of time. No, Mulder can't kiss and hug Krycek's trauma away, but what he's done here tonight is enough to help Krycek survive what comes next. Enough for Krycek to take a deep breath and say, "I am. I'm ready," with a reassuring smile. And he doesn't need the promise of a reward to go through with this. But he is curious to see what Mulder has in mind.
xxx
"I'm ready," Krycek says with a weak smile, looking as exhausted as Mulder feels.
Mulder returns the reassuring expression before reaching in and tugging at one of the corners of the medical tape. Krycek had done a hell of a job (and not in a good way) of slapping this one together, though Mulder didn't blame him. Stitching together one's own stab wound is not a task for the faint of heart. Peeling back the tape and gauze slowly so as not to disturb the wound underneath, Mulder gets a better look at the haphazard stitching. No matter how rough it looked, he still gave the guy credit for doing it himself.
Halfway through removing the coverings, Mulder chances a glance up at Krycek to see how he's doing. His eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is shallow and focused, but he's hanging in there. Mulder realizes he had been holding his own breath and he exhales, turning back to the bandaging.
There's blood on the gauze still as Mulder removes the rest of it, and takes a good look at the work cut out for him. It's rough, but not nearly as bad as he had imagined by Krycek's reactions from earlier. It's not gaping by any means, and the few stitches, although messy, are holding.
"You didn't do half bad," Mulder says reassuringly as he tosses the old dressings into the garbage and takes a few cotton balls into his hand. He takes the bottle of disinfectant and presses the cotton balls to the top of it, tipping it just enough to wet them. Krycek looks down at his own work briefly, and then back up to Mulder, shrugging a little, a half smile that says "thanks," gracing his lips.
Without missing a beat, Mulder leans in with the disinfectant laden cotton and gently dabs the wound. He can feel Krycek tense underneath his touch, but Mulder presses on (gently), working his way from one corner to the other, with the finish line now in sight.
xxx
Krycek may have said he was ready but he still braces himself when Mulder tugs at the tape to remove the bandages. Unlike with the other wounds, Mulder is being painstakingly slow and careful. Still, Krycek closes his eyes reflexively, and grips the counter with his hand.
Mulder removes the gauze exposing the stitches that are piercing the inflamed skin, their fringes poking out like barbed wire. There's an awareness of embarrassment, because Mulder thinks this is the best that Krycek can do. He used to be better at stitching himself up. He's lost his edge. Which is why when Mulder says, "You didn't do half bad," Krycek opens his eyes and fixes Mulder with a questioning look. There's no trace of mockery in Mulder's voice (why would there be? Who's being paranoid now, Aleksei?)
Krycek smiles, embarrassed by how much a little praise means to him. He looks down at the exposed wound and sighs a little: it doesn't look as bad as he remembered it. His eyes then wander to his caregiver who appears to be studying the wound, appraising the work laid out for him. Krycek is suddenly feeling feverish with being studied like this, allowing Mulder to see the most vulnerable part of himself.
The poetry is not lost on Krycek: this is what they have been doing all evening: Krycek exposing his deepest, most painful wounds, and Mulder rewarding him for it. Krycek's become so good at covering them up, pretending they don't exist, so when Mulder peeled away the scar tissue - however unintentionally - Krycek was finally forced to acknowledge these wounds of the soul in the most terrifying way. Compared to that, the physical pain doesn't seem as bad. At least, it's something he knows he can handle.
Mulder wets the cotton with the disinfectant, and Krycek can swear it stirs something inside him. And when Mulder starts dabbing the edges of that damn wound there's the expected sting, but no dread. No feeling of being pulled apart and prodded. This is no back alley patch-up job. This is Mulder.
Mulder's touch isn't just gentle - it's loving. Sure, he's being extra careful because of how Krycek reacted the last time. But it's not just that. He's got a hand in it now (so to speak); he knows how Krycek will react, how his body will respond to the touch and the sting. Again, Krycek finds himself unable to look away from Mulder's face, so focused and stern. No, Krycek can't help himself. He said he would behave, but he isn't breaking any rules when he reaches out and gently cups Mulder's cheek, "Thank you, Mulder," he says softly and watches his friend's face light up.
xxx
Mulder can feel Krycek's eyes on him as he continues his work. (Do you have to stare?) He thinks as he tries to stay focused, but it's difficult not to be self-conscious. Not only does he need to be just the right amount of delicate, but the man he's treating now knows what Mulder is capable of - and willing - to do.
But just like he said, Krycek sits and lets Mulder continue to work. Only after Mulder retracts his hand from the wound, Krycek reaches out with his own hand and touches Mulder's cheek, "Thank you, Mulder."
It's so gentle and sincere, and despite the last hour of truth or dare between them, this softer side of Krycek is still extremely new to Mulder. The warmth of his touch on Mulder's cheek radiates over his face, and he can't help blushing again, averting his eyes from Krycek's relentless gaze. He's also aware of what these words really mean coming from Alex Krycek, how vulnerable and honest, and somewhere deep down he still struggles to connect this to the man he knew for so long.
It occurs to Mulder how new this is to Krycek also, this exposure, letting someone help him, and how big this is for him to show gratitude like this. But they've grown so unimaginably close just in the time spent in his bathroom, and what they've shared already seems like some intimate bond that can't be broken. How could they go back to anything they were before this?
Looking down at the bandages and trying to ignore the heat in his face, Mulder can't help but lean into it a little bit as Krycek gently rubs his thumb on Mulder's cheek before taking his hand away. Without lifting his head, Mulder raises his gaze to meet Krycek's. (What are we even doing here?) Before he can stop himself, he's leaning in again, and placing the softest, gentlest kiss on Krycek's lips. Not lingering too long, but long enough to feel Krycek return the pressure.
When he pulls away Krycek's eyes are still closed, and Mulder can't help but smile a little, amused with the freedom he seems to have earned. "We're almost done here," Mulder says with his lips still close, his voice tired but reassuring.
Without missing a beat Mulder returns to the supplies and cuts off a bit of gauze. "Will you hold this in place so that I can tape it?" he places the layered squares gently over the stitched wound, and waits for Krycek to hold it before picking up the tape.
Krycek's eyes remain fixed on Mulder as he grips the tape and rips off several pieces. Mulder's still extremely aware of the eyes on him, as if he's giving some sort of performance.
Just like the band-aids before this, Mulder places the tape without hesitation, neatly protecting all the edges of the wound so they aren't all sticking out like they were before. And just like that...it's done.
Mulder takes a step back to make sure nothing has been missed, and save for a few bruises he can't really treat, everything has been cleaned, and covered. He looks up at Krycek and gives him a small smile. "Would you like help getting down from there?" And he holds out both of his arms.
xxx
Mulder blushes. After all they've been through and all that they've done tonight Mulder blushes, when Krycek strokes his cheek, thanking him. Who is this man? But even as he's lowering his eyes, Mulder leans into Krycek's touch, and that alone is enough to melt Krycek's heart into a grimy puddle.
But what does melt Krycek - finally and forever - is the kiss. Mulder kisses him again, unprompted. It's short and sweet, and so-so soft that Krycek lingers with his eyes closed after Mulder has pulled away.
"We're almost there," Mulder says, his lips still hovering over Krycek's. Krycek opens his eyes and watches Mulder put the final touches on his handiwork. When Mulder asks for Krycek's help to hold the gauze while he's applying tape, Krycek complies, and it's only now hitting him that this has been a joint effort. Sure, Mulder did the lion's share of the work, but it's still something that they did together. As a team. Like they were partners, or something (yeah, right!).
It's over so fast. They couldn't have spent more than a couple of hours in this bathroom, but it felt like a month. A terrifying, dizzying, wonderful month. And even though he's falling asleep, a part of Krycek wishes they didn't have to leave the bathroom. Why face reality and ask the dreaded questions (What is this? What are we after this?) when they can spend the night making out and making googly eyes at each other?
But Mulder looks like he's been up for forty-eight hours, because that's how long he must've been up. They both need rest. And this is when Krycek gets the idea. Possibly, the first good idea he's had in a long time. Or possibly, the worst.
"Would you like help getting down from here?" Mulder says, holding out his arms to Krycek. He has a coy little smile that Krycek wants to kiss right off his face. But even though the expression is teasing, the gesture itself is sincere. And as much as Krycek would love to decline this generous offer and show off his athleticism, he's also still embarrassed over the last time he tried something like that. (Who are you trying to impress anyway?)
Krycek nods, too sleepy to keep up his bad boy act. He puts his arm around Mulder, and lets Mulder steady him as he's sliding off the counter. Swaying on wobbly legs, he leans on Mulder a little longer, letting Mulder hold him until he's regained his balance. This closeness is addicting. Dangerously so.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," Mulder says reassuringly rather than commanding. Always anticipating Krycek's needs, this Mulder. Krycek is not completely incapacitated, but he's not protesting when Mulder helps him put his shirt back on, "Easy, there, Alex…" and then puts his arm around Krycek's waist and leads him out of the bathroom.
Since Mulder doesn't know where the bedroom is, he's letting Krycek lead them both there. The sheets are in disarray, but the bed looks so unbelievably comfortable, and so desperately empty. Krycek already knows what he's going to ask, but he's still averting his eyes when he says, "Look Mulder, you're dead tired, and you won't get any rest on the living room couch. This bed is big enough for two, and-" this is when he wills himself to finally look at Mulder, "-I'd rather not sleep alone tonight," he hesitates, "just for tonight."
xxx
Krycek accepts Mulder's help without a fight, and puts his arm around him as he moves off the counter. Despite Mulder's exhaustion, there's still a bit of excitement in the action of helping, or rather, Krycek letting him help. It feels like an establishment of the trust they'd forged just in the last couple of hours, here in this bathroom.
Krycek grabs onto Mulder tightly as he sturdies himself and attempts to catch his balance, and Mulder can't help but feel his heart speed up a little as Krycek leans on him. They'd come so far from that first awkward hug when Mulder first arrived. And even though Mulder no longer feels apprehensive about touching him, the warmth of Krycek's skin against Mulder also doesn't go unnoticed.
"Come on, let's get you to bed," Mulder says warmly. With Krycek still leaning on him, Mulder reaches around and grabs his shirt off the counter. Making up his mind before Krycek can protest, he helps the man pull it over his head so he won't stretch his new bandages. "Easy there, Alex." There's a tenderness in pulling the shirt down over the wounds he just bandaged, and it feels natural as he slips his arm around Krycek's waist and helps him walk out of the bathroom.
Leaving the bathroom threshold, however, feels like an awakening, as they leave the safety and the warmth of the small space that housed all their confessions in the last few hours. If it weren't for the fact that Krycek's body was radiating heat it would probably feel cold. It's at this point Mulder realizes how unsure he is of what happens next. There had been something so safe about that small space that let them both express freely, like nothing could burst their safe little bubble, but now they were outside of it - and that meant consequences.
Krycek guides them as they walk down the hallway, and they walk in sort of a peaceful silence to his bedroom.
Reaching the moderately sized room, dimly lit by a lamp sitting on a small bedside table, Krycek slides out of Mulder's hold slowly and sits on the bed. "Look Mulder-" oh no, is Krycek this eager to discuss what happens next? Surely they should at least both sleep first… "This bed is big enough for two..." Mulder's heart skips a beat, he's not suggesting…? But Krycek meets his gaze, obviously willing himself to say what he says next.
"I'd rather not sleep alone tonight."
The look in his eyes as he raises his gaze to Mulder's is sincere, almost pleading, and Mulder feels his own knees grow weak. The "just for tonight" barely registers as Mulder's exhausted mind registers what, exactly, is being asked of him.
"You ..you want me to sleep in your bed with you?" The question is more clarification than anything else, if Mulder had been more awake he might've politely declined outright, but the blankets and pillows look so inviting, and the look in Krycek's eyes...Mulder swallows.
"Look Mulder I don't mean, if you don't want-" Kycek starts to say, and Mulder instantly regrets questioning him.
"No it's not - It's not whatever you're thinking," Mulder smiles a little sheepishly for the umpteenth time, "I trust you, I just don't want to intrude."
Krycek gives him a look that says "don't make me say it again, Fox," and Mulder decides he's too tired to argue.
Walking around the other side of the bed, his back to Krycek, Mulder removes his pants and gets into the bed, pulling the blanket up and over the both of them. He's unable to avoid looking at Krycek any longer as he covers him, not wanting him to have to bend his bandaging to reach the covers. Krycek is of course giving him the thousand yard stare, and Mulder assumes this is because of his pants.
"Look, I appreciate you offering a place in your bed, but I've been wearing those jeans for two days straight, I'm not sleeping in them." He rolls onto his back to look up at the ceiling, wondering how on Earth he'll be able to fall asleep feeling this self-conscious, (a feeling he thought he'd left behind in the bathroom) and with Krycek staring through him. Though he does have to admit, the bed is far more comfortable than the airplane seat he slept on (rather brokenly) the night before, and he certainly doesn't hate that his pillow for the night smells like.. (another swallow) ..like burying his face in the crook of Krycek's neck.
xxx
This was a mistake. What is it kids on the internet are saying these days? Instant regret, "You want me to sleep in your bed?" Mulder asks, and Krycek can feel the uncomfortable shift, in Mulder's tone and in the tension. Aren't they past that by now? Krycek has made himself so naked and vulnerable, put his heart on his sleeve for Mulder. He's been open about his pain and about his intentions. Doesn't Mulder know how difficult it is to be this sincere when you're completely at the mercy of the person you're reaching out to? Does he know how much courage it takes? Fine! Fine. They're out of the bathroom. Real world rules didn't apply in there. They do out here.
"Look, Mulder, if you don't want to-" Krycek fumbles with the words as he's trying to back away from his unfortunate offer. His face is burning up with embarrassment, and if he could punch himself right now, he would.
"It's not what you think," now, it's Mulder's turn to stutter and stumble over words as he's trying to explain himself (what do I think, Fox?), "I trust you," (Gee, thanks!), "I just don't want to intrude." Oh, for fuck's sake! If Krycek had any venom left in him he would've said something passive-aggressive. Cracked a joke. Instead, he opts for an exhausted look and an eyeroll.
Not waiting for Mulder to make his decision - whatever it may be - Krycek kicks off his shoes, unfastens his prosthetic and sinks in the bed. I don't want to intrude, he says. Noble putz! After everything they did tonight. The bruise on Krycek's neck is throbbing, and Mulder doesn't want to intrude. Krycek sighs quietly. This isn't going to last. The morning will come, and they will have to look at each other in the harsh light of day. What will Mulder see then? This dream that they've been indulging in is already beginning to fade away. But wasn't it wonderful while it lasted?
Without saying anything else, Mulder walks to the other side of the bed. He has his back turned to Krycek when he takes off his jeans. Krycek looks away immediately, as his face grows hot for a completely different reason now. Crap! Suddenly, he's grateful he decided to stay in his own pants, uncomfortable as they may be. He's also only now realising that he did not think this through, and that maybe Mulder's reaction to his offer was justified.
Krycek swallows hard as Mulder climbs onto the bed and gets under the blanket. Mulder then reaches out and covers Krycek too, and Krycek can't help but stare at him in the soft light, trying to peer inside Mulder's mind. Trying to figure out what's going on in that giant head of his. (He's still taking care of me). Pantsless and awkwardly placed in Krycek's bed, Mulder is still taking care of him.
He must have mistaken Krycek's look for something else because he's now explaining his own depantsing, "I don't care about that, Mulder," Krycek says, trying to sound convincing, "I never-", he sighs, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
The two of them remain still, flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling, the silence between them louder than the screaming in Krycek's head. He's got Mulder in his bed. He's finally got Fox Mulder in his bed, with no pants, and it's more awkward than that time he accidentally watched Monty Python's The Meaning of Life with his mother.
And now, Krycek is laughing. It's a tired, breathless laugh, but he can't help himself.
"What's so funny?", Mulder turns to face him, frowning.
"Everything!" Krycek says, still laughing, and Mulder joins him. His laugh is nervous but genuine.
"We are hopeless, aren't we?" he says. (Are we, Mulder?)
Mulder is lying on the other side of the bed, but he feels close. In the soft quiet that settles between them Krycek allows himself to relax. God, he forgot what it's like to lie next to someone! To feel the warmth radiating from the body next to you, even if they're on the other side of the bed.
Krycek reaches over to the nightstand and flicks the switch on the little lamp. As the light goes out, Krycek is surprised to feel just as safe and protected in the dark as he was with the light on. Mulder's steady breathing is grounding, comforting. It's almost like one of those sound machines people have for sleeping.
Krycek closes his eyes, listening to his own body. The bruises and the cuts are still there, and they still hurt, but the pain is dull, subdued by Mulder's firm yet gentle touch; concealed underneath the skillfully placed bandages. How does Mulder do it? How can he just appear at Krycek's door in the middle of the night and pull Krycek back from the brink in just a couple of hours?
...
Krycek wakes up from the sound of thunder. Except it isn't thunder: it's Mulder snoring in Krycek's ear. He's got his arm around Krycek, his breath hot against the man's ear. He smells like old sweat, like the airport, and well- like Mulder. And now, Krycek's sheets have known Mulder's scent. Krycek's bed has known the weight of Mulder's body. He hasn't been here one night, and he's already left an imprint; altered the fabric of Krycek's reality on a molecular level. How can Krycek be expected to go back to his old life now?
Careful not to disturb his friend (Friend! Ha!) Krycek shifts under Mulder's arm to a more comfortable position, and so that his ear isn't exposed to Mulder's mighty snoring. Giving it just a little thought, Krycek braves wrapping his own arm around Mulder, and smiles like he just got away with some mischief.
Tomorrow morning. Mulder is going to wake up and pretend like none of this has happened. And Krycek will play along. But right now, he closes his eyes and allows himself to fall asleep to the melodic snoring of the man he loves.
xxx
Krycek is laughing. Mulder is lying in Alex Krycek's bed, pantsless and exhausted, and Krycek is laughing. It's soft, and Mulder can't help but turn to look. The sight of Alex Krycek having a genuine laugh is still something he's not used to, hell, none of this is something he's used to.
"What's so funny?" Mulder asks, genuinely curious.
"Everything!" Krycek says, and Mulder can't help but think, (he's right).After everything they'd been through tonight, the nakedness, the extreme roller coaster of emotions, the... kissing? (The kissing.) All leading up to them awkwardly lying in the same bed together? It wouldn't be the first time Mulder came to the realization of how ridiculous this whole thing was.
"We are hopeless, aren't we," Mulder says as he chuckles, more to himself than to Krycek, relinquishing his acceptance of the situation.
After a few moments they grow silent again, but it's less awkward than before. Mulder is still looking at Krycek, but Krycek doesn't seem to notice, his eyes back to staring up at the ceiling. (What could he be thinking?) The soft light coming from the lamp behind him casts dramatic shadows across the side of his profile visible to Mulder, and Mulder studies him for this brief moment. His features are exaggerated in the light, the shadow of his outlined parted lips and smallish nose are a dark contrast to the warm yellow.
How is it that Mulder had looked at this man's face more times than he could count, and he'd never seen it (for lack of a better phrase) in this light? Perhaps it was the intent behind his expression. Mulder had never seen Krycek relaxed. And even in their exhaustion, there is something else about his expression he'd never seen before tonight, a softness in his eyes, he isn't just tired. Krycek is content. Mulder feels something he can't quite describe knowing that he's the one responsible.
Fleetingly, Mulder considers what would happen if he kissed him again at this moment. Krycek's invite to his bed was clearly an innocent one, but a man couldn't help but wonder ...what if he did take the initiative, move closer, smooth his hands over that chest he'd spent all night bandaging, kiss the sweat and the scent of all their hard work? He chews his lip. What would Krycek do?
Mulder swallows as he feels his body respond to his not completely innocent thoughts. (Now's not the time. Krycek's's still badly wounded, you complete ass. Get your mind out of the gutter.) Turning his face away to stop himself from thinking further, Mulder closes his eyes.
He starts to wish he had said something comforting instead of being awkward, but it's too little too late as he hears Krycek switch off the light, silently. (Goodnight, Alex.) Mulder thinks to himself, wishing he had the courage to say it out loud. It isn't like him to be nervous, but he's so uncertain of what this means and where it could go, that he can't help but find himself concerned about messing it up. And yet, nervous or not, he had made it here, to Russia, to Krycek, into his arms and into his bed. Perhaps he shouldn't think about it anymore. At least not right now.
Mulder shifts under his blankets and imagines what he'd be doing if he wasn't here. Probably sitting up late watching a documentary while Scully sat in bed reading, waiting for him. Oh Scully. He misses Scully, and the comfort of familiarity, but this was something he'd longed for also: an adventure. He hated sitting still for too long. Well this is certainly a dive into the unknown, Fox. He also rarely went to sleep without a movie or the TV on in the background. Quiet darkness left his thoughts too loud to rest.
He chances a glance over at his company in the dark, just barely able to make out the shape of Krycek's profile in the darkness. What would the morning bring, more awkward conversations and the return of a hesitant but an undeniable craving for physical contact? Most likely.
Mulder closes his eyes. That's a problem for tomorrow.
...
He doesn't remember falling asleep, but Mulder wakes up abruptly to a pain in his bladder (fuck, I have to pee!) He opens his eyes to pitch black, but he realizes very quickly that he can't move. He feels something very warm and very heavy against his chest, and looking down his face bumps into the top of Krycek's head. Krycek, who has his arm tightly wrapped around Mulder's waist and his head resting against Mulder's chest. Mulder indulges for a second, taking a deep breath and inhaling the scent of his hair (My God.) It must be his shampoo, because he smells like lavender and some other woody, musky scent he can't quite put his finger on, on top of the sweat from all the evening's activities; altogether intoxicating.
Regretting his need to move, Mulder quickly finds his own arms trapped: one he can barely feel, underneath Krycek, and the other slung over Krycek's shoulder and holding him tightly, his hand lost somewhere in Krycek's hair. Krycek's breathing is slow and deep, and Mulder can feel his hot breath through his shirt. He can't help but smile a little, his face still buried in the other man's hair. What has Mulder done to be so loved? He wonders, but it doesn't matter anymore. He's here, he's wanted, and he's going to do everything he can to make this man feel as loved as he, himself does in this moment.
(I'm here, for you, Alex. I'm here.)