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Mulder rubbed his right arm, the growing ache a sure indicator that he wouldn't be wearing short sleeves anytime soon. Of course, considering he stood stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere with his rental car mangled in the ditch pretty much meant the same thing. As he stepped forward to go back up to the highway, his foot slid down while the rest of leg and his whole body went in a different direction. "Shit."
"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?"
Startled by the unexpected voice, he ignored the rocket blast up his leg and yelled back. "Falling on my ass, sir."
"Well, stop it and get up here."
Misery wrapped his face in a warm glow of embarrassment as he lay on his back, the ice melting and seeping into his jacket. "Well, that's not exactly going to be too easy."
"And that's because?"
"I think I just broke my ankle."
"Shit." A few crunches of snow and grunts later, Walter Skinner kneeled beside him. "Here. Take this." Handing him a flashlight, he proceeded to lift the pant leg.
"Damn, sir. Fuck. I'm sorry. God, that hurts." Mulder's head fell back, a wave a nausea rolling up from his gut at the touch to his leg.
"I imagine so. It looks bad and there's nothing around here to use for a splint. Damn. Still I need to get you up and out of here before you go into shock and get hypothermia."
"It's not that cold."
"It's fucking freezing out here, Mulder. Now, this is going to hurt like a mother, so if you have to scream, do it, but away from my ear, okay?"
Aiming the flashlight toward his boss, Mulder frowned and asked, "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to put you over my shoulder and get you back up the hill and into my car. I'll try to brace it when I get there. Then it's to the ER for our annual festive get together."
Mulder shook his head, first looking at Skinner and then back at the hill. "I don't know about this, sir. I'm not as light as I look and that ground's almost pure ice."
"And it's snowing. I know, Agent Mulder. It's everyone's perfect Christmas scene, lots of snow falling, stars shining all bright, and a half-dazed Mulder lying on his ass in a ditch along a deserted highway. Now, if you don't mind, give me a little help here."
"Well, since you put it that way, what do you want me to do?"
"I'm going to need you to just be still, don't try to help or move. That's going to throw my balance off. Luckily I left my lights on up there, so I can see well enough as long as I can take it slow."
"And if we fall?"
"Trust me, Mulder. Have a little faith. It's the day for it." He took the flashlight back and turned it off. The sudden loss of light was disconcerting.
"I can't see shit, sir."
"You don't need to see. Now, I'm going to take your arm and ease you up and over. It's going to hurt."
"It already hurts."
"Just try not to throw up all over me, okay?"
He gulped a few times and decided to be honest. "I'll try, but I'm already feeling queasy."
"Really? Anything else? Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head when your car left the road?"
"Yes."
"Shit." Walter rubbed his hands together, blew on them, and then rubbed again. "Okay then, no sleeping once we get you up top here. Ready?"
"How did you find me?"
"What?"
"I mean, what are you doing here? I called in the accident, but I didn't mention contacting you."
"Mulder, I'm going to lift you now. We'll talk about all that later."
Suddenly, Mulder's world tilted and swirled and he found himself closing his eyes to keep from losing his coffee. The searing pain up his leg got lost in the narrowing little circle of light that shrank to nothing but icy blackness.
&&&&&&&
Mulder leaned against the wall on the porch of the cabin while Skinner unlocked the door. More snow blocked out the morning light and gusts of wind whipped extra clouds of powder in his face. When the door finally opened, he used the crutches to hobble inside. He slumped down on the nearest couch, the cold air in the room not much warmer than the outside. "It's freezing in here."
"I know. I have to start the generator and then I'll start a fire. Stay put. That's an order."
"Yeah, well, that's an easy one, sir."
"I'll be right back."
"Sure." Sagging back against the sofa, Mulder let the crutches fall sideways, ignoring the noisy clatter, floating on the soft cushion of pain meds still in his system.
A few minutes later he heard sounds of wood shifting, but he kept his eyes shut until the the flutter of warm air touched his skin. Taking a peek, he saw Skinner pulling the screen closed in front of the fireplace and standing. "You lay a good fire, sir."
"You need to lie down. Luckily there's no major head injury, but you're pretty battered. I'm going to keep you here on the sofa for now until the place heats up."
"Where are we anyway?"
"My cabin."
"Well, I gathered that much. Why am I here?"
Taking a deep breath, Skinner stepped into another room to return with blankets and a pillow. "Here. Lie down and rest. We'll talk later."
Skinner took his coat and helped Mulder situate himself in the most comfortable position before draping the covers over him. "You want another pain pill before you go to sleep? The doctor said you could have more if you need it."
"Actually I'm feeling no pain right now, no pain at all. In fact, except for the fact that I can't really feel my legs at all, I'm feeling pretty damn fine."
Mulder spied a quick smile before it went behind the frown. "Then try sleeping. By the time you wake up, I figure you'll be feeling your leg double time. That was a hell of a nasty break. Must've gone down with your full weight just at the wrong moment."
"Anytime's a wrong moment to fall on your ass, sir." Licking his lips, his mouth suddenly dry, Mulder couldn't hold back the words. "Besides, I can think of better ways to go down than that."
Smiling full force, Skinner shook his head. "I'll bet you can, Mulder, but let's hope you're don't break anything doing it. Now, lie down so you can hate yourself for being so forward with your boss when you wake up."
"Doesn't seem to matter how forward I am. To be such a bright man, sir, you really don't pick up signals very well." Taking a deep breath, Mulder rested his head on the pillow, his mind spinning, his body still disconnected from pain and reality and consequences.
"Go to sleep, Mulder. And don't worry about me. I pick up signals just fine."
&&&&&&&
Pain burst in tiny stabs and flashes throughout his body, left ankle, right arm, head, backside, body bitches and twitches all over the place. Mulder turned over and screamed as someone ripped his foot off. "Son of a bitch."
"Lie still before you hurt yourself again. I swear, you're the only man I know who can do himself damage while he's asleep."
Walter Skinner's voice pushed through the waves of grey haze as Mulder swallowed back nausea and opened his eyes, even the faint light painful. "Sorry, sir. It hurts." The words limped out, pitiful and whining to his own ears.
"I guess so, and before it's over it's going to hurt worse. It's going to take a good six to eight weeks and rehab to get it working again."
Opening his eyes wider, his lungs taking in deeper breaths, Mulder's thinking cleared enough to understand language completely. His boss stood behind the couch, his arms crossed, looking pissed. For some reason he found comfort in the familiar expression.
"That's a cheery picture."
"No, not really, but it's realistic."
"And you're nothing if not that, right, sir?"
"Lucky one of us is."
"Better you than me. I find reality a tedious restriction sometimes."
Skinner smiled, the amusement crinkling the corner of his dark eyes, his words spoken in that gruff, peppery voice that tingled Mulder's spine. "Uh huh. So, do you need me to help get you up to go the bathroom?"
The pressure in his groin seconded that motion, but he shook his head. "No, if you'll just show me where it is and hand me my crutches, I can do it. And, please, sir, tell me there's no outhouse."
Chuckling, Skinner leaned the crutches at the end of the couch. "No, Mulder. We've got indoor plumbing." He motioned to the door on the left. "It's through the bedroom there. There's a spare razor and toothbrush in there, too, if you want to use them."
Rubbing his fingers over his stubble, he frowned. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Since we got here this morning, about nine hours. It's after five now."
"Shit. I'm sorry, sir. It's Christmas."
"Yeah, well, I don't do much in the way of celebration anyway. Watching you sleep works about as well as anything else." The somber words licked at a deep point in his heart as Mulder met his boss's sad eyes.
"Yeah, it is a bitch of a holiday sometimes."
"Yeah." Turning away abruptly, his face more ruddy, Skinner cleared his throat before speaking and pushed his glasses higher. "Look, go get cleaned up and call if you need something. I'm fixing us some beans and cornbread. It should be done in about 20 minutes."
"Beans and cornbread?" Mulder sniffed the air and decided the heavy aromas beat artificial pine scent anytime. His stomach growled in unison with his bladder twinges. As he struggled to sit up, Skinner offered a hand. The touch warmed his fingers, teasing his groin with an image of all the heat that hand could offer for relief. Thankful he wore baggy sweats instead of his regular slacks, he stood carefully. "What kind of beans, sir?"
"Navy beans, Mulder, with onions."
"Smells good."
"Yeah, now stop stalling and let's see if you can walk without breaking a vital organ."
Glancing up, he caught the smug grin as Skinner turned back to the kitchen, his awareness of Mulder's arousal an obvious point of amusement.
Damn. As Mulder awkwardly hopped and groaned his way to the bathroom, he decided that Walter Skinner would soon be smiling for a totally different reason.
&&&&&&&&
"I've been thinking, sir."
"Damn it, Mulder. Haven't you hurt yourself enough for one day?"
Nodding with a bemused grin at his boss's weak joke, Mulder leaned back in his chair. "Funny. I suppose I deserve that, sir."
"Whether you deserve it or not, I certainly enjoy it." Walter stuffed another piece of buttered cornbread in his mouth followed by a long drink of beer.
"I'm glad you're having such a good time here. So, anyway, I was wondering if I could get away with calling you Walter while we're here."
"Sure, Fox."
He shrugged, his uneasiness at the use of his first name irrational, but still a strong force in his reactions. "Okay, how about I call you Walter and you just call me Mulder."
"Doesn't sound fair somehow." The older man shook his head as he finished off the last of his drink and wiped his mouth. "Then again, I guess I could live with that disparity for now. I have to admit, Fox doesn't really suit you. Just don't let it go to your head, Mulder. It's just for when we're here."
"Thanks, Walter." Looking around, he pointed to the freshly cut Christmas tree in the corner. "That wasn't here when I went to sleep earlier."
"No, it wasn't." Walter's frown returned as wary brown eyes watched him.
"It's kind of nice. Not too full, not too flashy. Kind of old-fashioned."
"And your point?"
"It's the kind of tree I'd expect you to put up if I ever thought of you putting up a tree. Do each of those ornaments have some kind of sentimental value?"
Suddenly fidgety, Walter stood up and got himself another beer before leaning back against the counter. "Don't analyze me, Mulder. I don't like it."
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" He noted the tense features, the tightening of the hand around the bottle.
"I shouldn't have put it up, but, hell, it's Christmas."
"There's nothing wrong with tradition, Walter. Actually I like it."
Trying to lighten the moment, Mulder smiled and ate another piece of sweet cornbread, some of the crumbs falling on his shirt. He drank his milk and then cleared his throat. "You never did tell me how you found me last night."
"You finished with your dinner?"
"Yeah."
As he cleared off the table, Walter spoke, his voice smooth and quiet. "Have you ever noticed how every Christmas, you get in trouble when your partner goes off to be with her family?"
"Excuse me?"
"Two years ago, you broke your arm. Last year, you ended up with a whacked skull because you were staking out that warehouse in Queens without proper authorization and without backup. I thought keeping up with your movements this year might save me a trip to the hospital. Guess I didn't keep up fast enough."
Mulder sat back, rocked by the revelation. "Are you saying you followed me?"
"Not exactly. I just had a feeling the pattern might hold, so I had the rental car company agree to call me if anything happened." He put a cover over the bowl of beans and put it in the refrigerator.
Shaking his head, Mulder pushed harder. "So, you expected me to get hurt?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't, but I had a bad feeling that you might hold to form."
"Shit." Mulder covered his mouth and stared back over the memories flooding in. "I don't believe this. It never even occurred to me to put the two things together."
"Yeah, the holidays and Mulder can be a painful mix." The sad tone increased the impact of the words. "Face it, Mulder, you have a serious problem with Christmas."
"And a guardian angel, it seems."
Snorting, his somber expression softened, Walter shook his head. "I've been called many things, but angel's not one of them."
"I'm counting on that."
"What?"
Changing the subject quickly, Mulder rubbed his left thigh. "My leg's bothering me a little. Could you hand me my crutches so I can go back to the couch to prop it up?"
"Sure." Suddenly quiet, Walter put down his drink and stayed still while Mulder stood up and made his own way to his seat. As soon as the younger man settled down, Walter asked, "I want to know what you meant."
"About what?"
"Counting on me not being an angel."
"Nothing really." Avoiding eye contact, Mulder motioned to the fire. "Might need another log there, Walter."
Still obviously unsettled, the AD stepped around to check on the blaze. As he squatted down, his back to Mulder, the younger man pushed again. "Tell me why I'm here, Walter."
"What do you mean, why you're here?"
"Well, you could've taken me back to my place. Or you could've left my ass sitting in the hospital like the doctor wanted. Or worse, you could've called Scully and she would've ragged my ass out good for getting hurt and then rushed home to check the bruises out herself. So, my question to you is, why am I here?" He watched the muscles along the broad shoulders tense, the fabric of the grey and blue flannel stretch even tighter.
As he stood up, Walter turned and met his eyes, intensely direct, and incredibly starved. "You couldn't go home by yourself."
"Why not?"
"Because I would've had to stay at your place. Let's face it. Your place is depressing."
"Is it?"
"Yes, it is. I've been there, remember? As for the hospital, you said you didn't want to stay and I didn't want to argue."
"And Scully?"
"She deserves some time off to be with her family."
"So do you." Mulder tilted his head and studied the expression, surprised at the unfamiliar look of hesitation.
Walter shrugged and admitted, "I don't really have any family to speak of."
"Yeah?"
"Not since Sharon."
Nodding, the sense of connection even stronger, Mulder spoke quietly, his words even but soft. "It's hardest around the holidays. It's like everyone in the world has a life except you and you're just sort of stuck on the outside. I hate being pitied."
"I know. I try not to bring it up very often."
Laughing to himself, Mulder thought back to how many times he'd let people think he had plans when he didn't. "It's just easier."
"But it's not easier when you get yourself almost killed, Mulder. Not easier at all." The husky voice touched him, the concern melting over his reserve, stroking the outer edges of his trust.
"I don't do it on purpose." Seeing the flicker of doubt, he shook his head. "I don't, Walter. Honest. It just sort of happens."
Finally relaxing enough to sit in the chair across from him, Walter stared back, his face set in that look that mixed anger and worry. "I know some things happen we can't control. I also know that you put yourself at risk when you don't have to. That bothers me. I don't like having to think about getting that middle of the night phone call to come and ID the body."
"Well, actually Scully would probably get stuck with that detail."
Temper flashed, his eyes squinting, his words sharp and tight. "Don't fuck around about this, Mulder. You know what I'm saying. Whether Scully sees your body first or not, isn't the damn point and you know it. I don't want to ever have to do that."
"God, Walter, this is one hell of a holiday conversation."
"We wouldn't need to have it, if you weren't such an asshole."
"Merry Christmas to you, too, sir." He pointed at his leg before he spoke, his mood no longer cheery or playful. "Look, I'm sort of at a disadvantage here. If I could, I'd leave and go home, but I can't, so could we just table this shit for the evening? I'm tired and I'm not in the mood to get my ass chewed over this."
After a few tense moments, Walter nodded. "Okay, but don't think we won't address this later."
"Oh, I believe that. Jesus, you're worse than a fucking terrier with a bone. Never let it go."
"You're one to talk. Obsessive-compulsive thy name is Mulder."
"At least I have a reason."
"Do you? And I'm not talking about your sister. I'm talking about the fact that you go out of your way to isolate yourself from people. Except for Scully, you've got no friends, Mulder. That's not healthy."
Narrowing his eyes, he took a deep breath before he spoke, aiming his words carefully. "I don't see you huddled around the tree with too many good buddies, sir. Maybe I'm not the only one who goes out of his way to play it safe."
Instead of an expected explosion, Walter shrugged, the earlier anger drained. "I can't really deny that, no."
Shocked at the confession, Mulder pressed harder. "So, answer the question, Walter. Why am I here?"
"I wanted you here." The words struggled through the strain of tight neck muscles but made it to freedom.
"Why?" He had to be sure.
"It would've been nice if you hadn't hurt yourself though."
"Why, Walter?"
"God, you're a stubborn bastard."
"Yeah, that's rich coming from Walter Skinner." Smiling, suddenly more confident, he asked one more time. "Why?"
"I think you already know, Mulder. At least I think you've guessed."
"I need to hear it."
After a few moments, Walter whispered. "I wanted you here."
"Why is that so hard to say?"
"Why is it so hard to hear?"
The challenge weighed heavily, the pressure near pain against his own sense of detachment from the world. "Maybe because you're supposed to be the practical one, the one who keeps me grounded in reality."
"And getting involved with your boss would be unreal?"
"Something like that, yeah." Mulder glanced across at the man staring at him, the eyes so intent he had to look away. "It's just that I hate admitting that my fantasy life might actually get a chance to come true."
"Your fantasy life?"
"You're not the only one who thinks about the possibilities, Walter. You're a handsome man. It's just that you're supposed to be the one who saves me from my self-destructive tendencies."
"And being with me would be self-destructive?" He said the words calmly enough, but the hurt behind them leaked through.
"Be honest. Don't you?"
"Actually, I was thinking it was sort of masochistic on my part."
Laughing out loud, Mulder grabbed his leg, his movements playing havoc with the damaged muscles. "Oh, yeah, definitely that, too." Relieved at the returned smile, he added, "So, what do you think we should do about this? I mean, you're the boss, right? You give the orders."
Turning his head slightly to the side, Walter studied him a few moments before speaking, his voice almost a purr. "Is that how you like it, Mulder?"
"Sir?"
"You're still calling me sir. Is that what you want? Someone else to give the orders so you don't have to make the decisions?"
Sensing the new energy, Mulder smiled, the sudden heat between his legs a welcome distraction from the throbbing in his ankle. "Well, you know how well I follow directions."
"I know. I always wondered about that."
"About what?"
"About how you just kept breaking the rules and I just kept having to ream your ass for it. You'd think you'd learn your lesson, unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless you enjoyed the reaming."
His whole body shuddered at the Walter's powerful voice, the words like hard strokes to his cock. "That would be kind of twisted, don't you think?"
"Is it any more twisted than finding pleasure in wanting to do it for real? I mean, Jesus, Mulder, you've got a really nice ass. It's perfect for reaming, and..." Pausing for effect, he leaned forward, his voice even lower. "For so many other things."
"God, Walter. Tell me you're not teasing me."
"Do I look like I'm teasing?" He stood up, his arousal making his eyes nearly black and his jeans a hell of a lot tighter than earlier.
"No, sir. You look pretty damn serious to me."
"Good, because I want you to take me very seriously here, Mulder."
"No problem. You're the boss like always."
Scooting Mulder far enough away from the armrest, Walter settled behind him, his arm wrapping around the younger man's shoulders.
"Not like always." A warm tongue licked his neck, the wet heat sizzling his spine, his gut clenching with anticipation. "I want you to obey me for a change, Mulder." Nibbles edged his ear, the tickle and pain combination bringing his head back, his greedy muscles failing to support the weight. The husky voice entranced him. "I can ream your ass later, but for now, I just want to show you how good it feels to do what I tell you."
"I think I can do that."
"Good. That's what I want to hear. Just enjoy it." Petting his hair back with one hand, the other massaged across his chest, each nipple standing up, throbbing for attention. Each touch surged fire to his cock, the tightening in his belly winding down to his crotch.
Walter's hand slid further down, slipping past the elastic waist band, broad fingers finding the erection and wrapping it in the pure pleasure of another man's fist. His head pulled back as a mouth captured his, his moans muffled and swallowed. A tongue pushed in, followed by sucking and thrusting in time with the hand stroking him, the rhythm building as he pumped his hips. Pain from his leg ignored, Mulder tensed as his balls tightened, the pressure in his groin swelling up, his spine shrinking and collapsing, each vertebrae imprisoned with the building force of coming. Jerking upward, his back arched, his air stopped with the onslaught of an explosion of colors, bright reds swirling to green spreading to wrap his brain in blue. White clouds drifted in to sputter heat to cooling.
Smothered in sweat, his mind reeling, the back of Walter's hand caressed his face, the soft touches soothing as his breathing slowed. The hushed whisper of his name called him to reason.
"Jesus, Walter."
"I'm not your savior." A kiss to his forehead and fingers running through his hair teased him to the edge of loving. The warm breath scented with just a hint of beer and Mulder covered his mouth again, his neck straining back. "I don't plan to save your ass for anybody but me, Mulder."
"That works for me, sir."
The low growl rumbled though his skin as Walter's arms pulled him against his chest, his lower back against his right thigh. "About damn time you started paying attention." A hand wrapped his throat, the outside fingers around to each side, the three in the middle stretching up to his chin. Mulder's own scent on Walter's masterful hand aroused him again, steady breathing a struggle. "You're going to follow orders from now on. Understand?"
"Absolutely, sir. Any one in particular for right now?"
Turning his body so his chest came closer to his, Walter met his eyes, dark brown staring into hazel. Passion flushed his skin, the power focused directly at him. "Just enjoy the day, Mulder. We'll talk about your other orders later."
Leaning the weight of his shoulder against the broader chest, Mulder ran his palm over the well-defined muscles under the flannel. "Yes, sir."
A hand behind his head pulled him closer, his face against the soft cloth, a button against his cheekbone. A heavy chin rested on his head and rubbed twice before he heard the words spoken in a hush. "Merry Christmas, Mulder.
The End