How To Give A Pill To A Sick Ratby Ursula
Disclaimers: No rats were hurt in the filming of this story. I do not own the X Files, Walter Skinner, Alex Krycek, or Fox Mulder. This is fan fiction drooling not to be mistaken for serious literature, canon or a belief that an angel wearing a tinfoil halo and looking a lot like Nick Lea came to me and said, "Lo, thou art chosen among women. You DO own the X Files.
Notes: Thanks to Emily for an off topic posting that was entitled: How to give a cat a pill.
Time Frame: Before
It was always amazing to Walter how a day of meetings drained him more than a day at the gym. He rolled his head around, wincing as he heard a series of small crackling sounds. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was after seven. The last of the meetings frittered away the regular workday, lasting until nearly four as the department heads "brain stormed" ways to reduce the budget. It would help if half of them knew the difference between a brain fart and a brainstorm. Walter spent the last two and a half hours of his workday wading through a full day's worth of urgent paper work. Ah, to be Fox Mulder and to be able to say 'screw the reports'. Speaking of his lover, the man was late. He had promised a Japanese feast and Walter's grumbling stomach told him that missing lunch had been a lousy idea...
Going upstairs to change, Walter saw a hint of movement beyond the blinds that he had left partially open this morning to catch a few rays of the watered down sunshine. He drew his gun as he cautiously sidled up to the glass. All in one movement, he jerked the sliding door open; it was unlocked...crouching he aimed his gun at a huddled figure. It was Alex Krycek.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Walter raged. He grabbed the man up and saw that there was a long cut on the man's face. He was wearing a torn sweater. His prosthetic arm was missing. The green eyes were lanterns burning in a face that was extraordinarily pale except for two red glowing fever spots blushing over the cheeks. A flap of material parted at the seam, revealing deep gouges in his side.
"Mulder said safe..." Krycek mumbled, head lolling over.
As Walter relaxed his arm, Krycek faded into him, cheek pressed trustingly into his broad chest. Eyes rolled back and the man went totally limp. Massive muscles caught the weight and Walter swung the man over his shoulder in a fireman carry.
Looking down at the sofa, Walter groaned and said, "Jesus Christ, when did I become a homeless shelter for stray rats?"
At which point, the door opened and Mulder walked in. He carried a small box, laden with even smaller boxes and had looked happy until he caught sight of the couch. Walking over, he gingerly examined the damaged rat and said, "Gee, Walter, for me? You shouldn't have."
"I didn't. I found him like this on my balcony. The only thing he said was that you said it was safe."
"I haven't talked to him since last year. A guy could get a complex. One kiss and the man takes a powder unless you count stepping over me when I was sick," Mulder said. He clamped a hand to Krycek's forehead and said, "He's burning up. I think I'd better call Scully."
"I'm sure that's just what she wants on a Friday night," Walter said, wincing as he imagined the looks he would be garnering from the redoubtable Ms. Scully.
"We could put him in a cardboard box and leave him at the humane society," Mulder said brightly.
A line of green showed under the velvet forest of Krycek's lashes. "Muhhlllder."
The tone of that voice made Walter want to reach down and adjust the fit of his pants over the crotch. The honeyed tease of Krycek's take on Mulder's name sounded as if the man had a mouthful of cream.
"Yeah, me, Mulder, what happened to you?" Mulder asked.
"Grey...don't like them. Too fast. Got there too late to get the woman out. Damn Spender, he knew. Trying to kill me," Krycek muttered.
"What woman?" Mulder asked anxiously.
"Not your sister, scientist that was working on a vaccine. Brought you sample," Krycek fumbled at his jeans.
With some difficulty because the pants were very tight, Walter extracted a small case in which a tiny tube of something green was contained. "This? What is it a vaccine to?"
"Oilien," Krycek replied.
Mulder snatched the tube up rapaciously and looked as if he was about to flee with it. Walter said, "That can wait. Call Scully. I'm going to take him upstairs."
The body Walter unveiled was not totally unfamiliar to him, but the scars were new. Mulder had told him about the arm and he had seen enough of that in the veteran's hospital not to be repulsed. However, the brutal nature of Krycek's life had left lesser scars like sacrileges on what had been a sculpture worthy of Pygmalion. Surprisingly, it pained Walter to see them. He hadn't known his feelings had mellowed that much toward the man.
"What in hell makes it all worth it, Krycek? Why don't you just lie down and die?" Walter mused. He shook his head and went to fetch a basin and the good old fashioned green soap that he still used for his injuries.
"She's not happy, but she will have a look at him," Mulder announced, catching Walter's hand trembling over the shape of a thigh, the hollows and swells of which he had once traced with kisses.
"Help me turn him over," Walter said
Krycek was cooperative, although as they put him on his stomach to wash his back, he parted his legs and arched as if to receive one of them, obviously misunderstanding. Walter's blush was echoed by Mulder's. They both shrugged and Walter said, "We obviously both fell for Krycek's naïve young agent act."
Sponging the rusty blotches that traced the lines of muscles on the abdomen, Mulder's eyes grew softer and he said, "As bad as it hurt when I found out the truth, in some ways, I'm glad that I took the bait. He was...extraordinary."
In a word, yes. He had been and still was. Alex had been an evocation of sensuous pleasure, a lexicon of lust. Coming into Walter's life, newly emptied of Sharon, the stunning young man had seemed like fire from heaven. He had fallen helplessly into Walter's life, every gesture, every action persuading him that the young agent needed him, needed his discipline, his guidance, and needed him to make love to him. Afterwards, Walter had felt foolish and used...especially when he realized that Mulder had also fallen for the honey trap. Yet he still felt lust mingled with his hatred; betrayal, mutilation, and time could not still what he had felt...some honest voice whispered, what you still feel.
Clean, naked beneath the sheet, and loosely bandaged for now, Krycek panted and moaned in his delirium, shuddering at times from head to toes, fighting even the light covering of the top sheet. When Walter reached to pull the sheet back up, Krycek's hand grabbed for him and dragged his palm to his chest. "I want you, Walter, take me please. I missed you. I want you. Please..." The words were pyromancy, divining his lust.
His horrible day and a steamy session with Mulder just two nights ago should have logically stilled any response, but it was as if the words were whispered exquisitely along the sensitive skin of his cock instead of spoken to the air. Walter found himself erect, his nipples trying to poke holes through his dress shirt, and lust screaming from the depths of his strongly suppressed ego.
"Well, Walter, looks as if you still have it," Mulder remarked, but he didn't sound jealous. He sounded interested. "If I had known that you were doing him too, I would have asked to watch. I bet you were hot together." Mulder's tongue flicked out to explore his juicy lower lip, "Mmmm."
If Krycek was sex on two legs, Mulder wasn't lame in that division either. Walter mournfully considered how his bed was occupied and wondered what Scully would think if she found he and Mulder locking loins on the couch? The thought of her glacial expression cooled his ardor instantly.
"Don't bother explaining," Scully said, "after all these years with Mulder, I've learned sometimes it's better just to pretend I never saw anything."
"Pretty Scully," Krycek cooed as she bent over him, "Red hair is nice. Like strawberries."
"Shut up, Krycek," Scully replied, sticking a thermometer into his mouth. She frowned as she took his pulse and said, "He probably ought to go to a hospital, but then they just poison his species, don't they? People don't patch up injured rats."
Mulder and Walter exchanged glances. Neither of them cared for the comment obviously, but since they were asking favors, they didn't dare to complain. Scully finished her examination, shook down the thermometer, and said, "It's 104, which is going to cook his brains if it doesn't come down. I suggest sponge baths, tepid water not cold. I will go and tell my long suffering date that I need him to write me a prescription to obtain antibiotics for my partner who is morbidly afraid of regular doctors."
A suffering Ratboy should have delighted Walter, but he found himself instead softening to the man. It was his beauty and Walter knew it was wrong and shallow to let that move him, but it was such a compelling argument. Besides, when Alex's hand closed on Walter's thigh and his malachite eyes framed by ebony lashes looked appealingly at him, Walter could almost believe that the rat could still be redeemed.
"He walks in beauty like the night..." Mulder said.
"Wrong gender," Walter commented.
"Not for us," Mulder answered.
"You really think Alex ever had 'a mind at peace with all below. A heart whose love was innocent?" Walter asked.
A shrug was his answer. Mulder dribbled water across Krycek's chest, gaining a shiver and a sharp inhalation. "Don't hurt me," Krycek said, not pleading, giving an order with an imperial expression in his raptor eyes.
"I'm taking care of you," Mulder chided, "So why did you come here?"
"I thought I was dying and I wanted to see you first," Krycek explained. "Both of you."
"That was thoughtful of you. I've often thought I would want to be there when you died, but I had in mind a more active role." Mulder remarked, but even as he said it, his fingers were smoothing Krycek's hair back from his forehead.
It didn't seem to matter to Krycek, whose eyelashes had fluttered closed, bringing with them the twilight-shaded lids.
When Scully returned, Walter woke from dozing in the comfortable armchair, the one that he had rescued years ago when Sharon had put it out on the curb for the junk collectors. It was his secret vice, over stuffed, softly napped, and huge. Over the years, it had adjusted to him until it now cradled him perfectly. His head fit into a slightly worn spot and there was even an indentation that was elbow shaped on the arm. It was as ugly and precious as a child's first teddy bear.
Blinking at the sudden light, Walter saw Scully pause and frown. Following the gaze, he saw Mulder posed over Krycek like the prince about to wake sleeping beauty...damn; he had to get Mulder some tights!
Guiltily, Mulder jerked back and reddened. He said, "My mom always tested me for fever by kissing my forehead."
Scully snorted and shook her head. She tossed a bag at Mulder and said, "Get these down him. I have a date. I'll check when it's over...maybe after breakfast."
A flicker of jealously narrowed Mulder's eyes. He never could quite decide if he wanted Scully to be his little sister or the endless partner in an eight-year flirtation. Walter sagely noticed that Mulder had no such problem with he and Krycek, but then Mulder was myopic at times about his own behavior.
Walter eased out of his chair to pick up the bag, which he found to contain aspirin and a big bottle of huge red and green pills.
Scully said, "See you later. Give him one now."
Her heels clipped away. Whoever she was dating must have been doing something right. Scully didn't even bother to lecture Mulder on the danger of handling wild rodents.
"You get the pill ready and I'll get water," Walter said.
When Walter came back, Mulder was staring dubiously at the size of the pill. Walter said, "Hell, he's swallowed a hell of a lot bigger things than that."
"Yeah, but still, makes me wonder if Scully's friend usually doctors equines." Mulder commented.
"Open up, Alex," Mulder said, "Take your medicine."
A snarl was as close to an open mouth as Krycek would go. Walter decided to see if the voice of authority would work. "Agent Krycek, take the pill."
Nacreous eyes stared at him then a wad of spit hit him in the forehead. Mulder said, "I guess his mom never told him not to do that. He does have a habit..."
Krycek was doing a good imitation of a cornered rat. He glared; body crouched at the head of the bed.
"It's just a pill," Mulder pleaded.
Russian mumbling greeted that attempt. "I think I don't want to know what he just called me, " Mulder said. "You don't speak Russian, do you, Walter?"
"Hell, no, my parents wanted nothing to do with the old country," Walter responded. "I say we just tackle him and force him to swallow."
Mulder looked dubious, but said, "All right, you tackle, I push the pill in."
How strong one crippled and feverish rat could be was answered by a several minute struggle. Walter cursed as Alex's elbow jabbed him in the belly. A head butt left him with a bloody lip and sore nose. When he finally had the feral thing pinned, Mulder ineffectively pried at Krycek's mouth.
"Come open for papa," Mulder coaxed, "it's just a little pill."
A loud wail announced failure. Mulder danced about the room, shaking his finger and said, "He bit me. He fucking bit me!"
Meanwhile, a startled Walter had let loose the rodent. Krycek jetted off the bed and ended up huddled half in Walter's closet, panting, sweat streaming from his face, but obviously prepared to defend himself.
Breathing heavily and holding his sore ribs, Walter said, "We'll let him calm down before we try again. Let me see your finger,"
After applying a Band-Aid to Mulder's digit, Walter studied the problem while Mulder searched the bedding and the floor for the pill. Several moments later, Mulder reported, "It's gone where ever the matches to our socks go. I can't find it."
"They always throw in more than you need," Walter declared. "Just get another one."
Mulder brightened and sat on the floor at a respectful distance from Krycek. He said, "Alex, Alex, love, would you like ice cream? Walter has some, From Russia with Buzz." Mulder shot a look of pure devilment at Walter.
Damn, Walter thought he had that hidden. He only indulged in a spoonful now and then as his doctor suggested he consume less fat, red meat, hard liquor, and caffeine. He'd been living on a diet of Mulder and chicken salad for months. The pint in the freezer represented his reward for the lower blood pressure reading at his last physical.
Slowly, Krycek seemed to return to what passed for sanity in his equally twisted Russian brain. He said, "Mulder? How come I'm on the floor?"
"You like it there," Mulder answered blithely. "Let me get the ice cream."
Rich chocolate laced with caffeine was probably just what the doctor didn't order, but if it worked what could it hurt?
"Okay, Moriarty, what's your next plan?" Walter said, ineffectively trying to wipe a blot of second hand chocolate from his shirt. The second pill slowly made a path down Mulder's shirt, lubricated by another glob of ice cream.
"I'll grab him and you force the pill down his throat," Mulder said.
Well, how difficult could that be? It was simply a matter of avoiding the teeth. Rats will bite when cornered, even domestic ones and Alex Krycek was no tame and trusting creature, quivering a cute pink nose and charming whiskers. He was more like a cunning and scarred wharf rat that had seen more sea time than Admiral Nelson.
With a little help and a few new bruises for all of them, Krycek was subdued and head locked. He seemed to respond better to Mulder's efforts, his resistance almost having a playful edge. Of course, it looked to be an often-enacted scene between them. Practically speaking for all the body contact, they might just as well have screwed. Walter cautiously pried open the mouth, got the pill in, and held the mouth shut.
Frustrated, Walter yelled, "Just swallow the damn thing." He tried to massage the throat and felt something yield.
"I think it's down," he announced.
Mulder relaxed at that, which was a mistake. The moment his grip slackened, Krycek's leg shot forward, sending Walter gasping head over heels to the floor, bringing the tumbled blankets and bedspread with him. His hurt and humiliation covered by the fall of the bedding, Walter decided to stay down and just groan for a while.
Moments later, Mulder lifted the blanket, peeped at him, and said, "I think I'd better call Scully...I have an idea."
"I'm not sure if I want to hear it," Walter said, painfully climbing to his feet.
Later, Mulder held the phone away from his ear while a steady stream of shrill complaints issued. Finally as the sound ebbed, Mulder said, "Just bring the suppositories. I can get them in."
Walter folded the bedding neatly and piled it at the edge of the bed. Krycek seemed exhausted, little the wonder, but Walter didn't doubt that the weariness would promptly pass if they essayed the pills again.
Mulder and he slumped in the chair, clinging together in fear of hurricane Krycek.
In contrast to her bedraggled partner and boss, Scully looked lovely in sleek black evening wear. Her dress was a cross between a sheath and a slip dress, thin straps barely holding the material up high enough to cover her nipples. She already wore a slightly glazed look and had a definite red mark on her neck. She handed the new prescription bag to Mulder, surveyed the damage, and said, "Remind me never to ask you two to baby sit if I ever adopt a baby."
Hips swaying, Scully floated out of the room in a mist of perfume.
"It really pays off that she's dating a pharmacist," Mulder said, stunned.
"I'm sure she's not just making the sacrifice on your behalf," Walter remarked.
Holding up the even bigger jar that held the suppositories, Walter asked, "Now if we couldn't even get the pill down his throat, how do you expect to get these up his ass?"
Mulder grinned and said, "I didn't go to Oxford because I had the shoes. Just watch."
It was worth watching to see Mulder pet Krycek, seducing him with an expert touch. Mulder kissed the fever-reddened lips until Krycek's one arm was clinging to him and the Russian words sounded like the cooing of mating doves.
When Krycek was melting as much from love as from fever, Mulder whispered, "Let me lube you."
"Ya liubliu tebia." Krycek returned, trying to unzip Mulder's jeans.
"Not 'liubliu', lube," Mulder explained.
"You don't love me?" Krycek said in a woebegone manner.
"Of course, I do," Mulder said and then stopped, shrugging helplessly at Walter. "But Alex, I need to get you ready. Roll on your side, beautiful."
"Okay," Alex agreed, cooperatively now.
It took a mere moment to insert the medicine. Mulder's fingers definitely knew the way. A few more kisses and Krycek curled up in Mulder's arms like a sweet little rat pup. Mulder tired out, nodded off soon after.
Left standing, although just barely, Walter surveyed the picture and told the sleeping Mulder, "Well, I suppose you can keep him, but you have to clean up after him and after this, he will have to sleep outside on the balcony."
With a shrug, Walter shed his soiled sweats and joined the sleepers. He felt Alex relax happily as their bodies touched, and smiling to himself, Walter snuggled closer and went off to a bruised, but strangely content sleep.
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