Title: The Letter D, for Doggett
Author: Forbes
Feedback: sjforbesc@hotmail.com <mailto:sjforbesc@hotmail.com>
Keywords: John Doggett/ Walter Skinner : Humour/Slash.
Spoilers: No, I don't think so.
Rating: over 17's m/m
Summary/Pairing: Um... Let me see. Standalone story. Doggett undercover,
juicy situation, extreme possibilities and All the product of a very
twisted imagination. I wanted to read something like this, and couldn't
find exactly what I wanted, so I had to write it myself. No great hardship!
Archive: Just about anywhere that wants to give this a home. Please
leave all this bit, though, and let me know where it ends up.
Disclaimer: Yeah, like you could see Chris Carter allowing this outrage.
Episodes like these only happen in my mind, very late at night.

Friday Morning.
The Basement.
8.34 a.m.

"Mornin', Agent Scully." John Doggett slipped his shoulders out of his
coat and strode across the room.

"Good morning to you, Agent Doggett," came the pleasant reply.

Doggett glanced across. She was in a good mood today, by the sound of
it. He tossed his coat on the hook and straightened his tie. Pregnant
woman mood swings aside, Scully seemed to finally, finally thawing
towards him. Not a moment too soon, by his reckoning. "You're cheerful,
this a.m.," he told her, perching on the edge of her desk. "This a
'Thank God it's Friday' thing?"

Scully looked up from her file, a ghost of a smile playing across her
mouth. "Not entirely," she told him, enigmatically.

Resting his hand on his thigh, Doggett leaned towards her, his lop sided
grin playing over his face. "Do tell, Agent Scully."

Mulder wandered through the basement door, flipping a sunflower seed
breakfast into his mouth. He nodded hello at Doggett. "Let me guess. You
got the prize in your cereal box?"

Her eyebrow slid up. " I always get the prize, Agent Mulder."

He laughed. "I bet you do, Agent Scully."

"Mornin', Agent Muldah." Doggett nodded to Mulder, moving across the
room, giving the contents of the other man's hand a funny look. He made
no comment. Mulder's eating habits fell into the same category as the
pencil flipping penchant the other agent had. A don't ask, you don't
want to know, sort of thing.

"So what gives, Scully?" Mulder wandered around the little office.
"Kersh finally disappeared up his own ass?"

Doggett snorted. "I'd pay money to see that."

Scully covered a smile with her hand. "Agent Doggett," she said in mock
disapproval.

His hands came up. "Hey. Just expressin' an opinion."

She smiled at him, a proper, teeth baring one this time, surprising him,
but pleasing him, none the less.

"Dangerous thing, that, Agent Doggett. Expressing an opinion." Mulder
leaned against the filing cabinet. He spoke whilst flipping, never
missing a seed. He peered over Scully's shoulder at the open file on her
desk.

"I'll take my chances," Doggett replied.

A bark of laughter bit into the air. A wet kernel fell out of Mulder's
open mouth onto the desk. Ignoring his damp gift, Mulder reached over
and pointed at something on the page, nudging Scully, chuckling.

Scully flicked the seed away with a grimace. "Mulder..." she complained,
moving the file away.

"What's so funny?" Doggett stuck both hands in his pants pockets and
leaned against his desk. He was trying to squash that nasty little
feeling that came up every now and then, that whispered he was being
held out of the loop in his own office. He was trying. Scully was
trying. And lord knows, he thought, Mulder was trying.

Mulder grinned at him. "Not my place to tell, Agent Doggett."

Doggett frowned at him, biting down hard on that unpleasant feeling.

Scully tapped the file in front of her. "It seems we have a new
assignment, partner."

Doggett looked at her, grateful out of all proportion for that one
little word. Two syllables that dragged him back into the room and out
of no mans' land. Thank you, Agent Scully, he told her silently.
Nodding, he reached for the folder on her desk. "Okay. I'll bite. This
makes you happy?"

"Well, it came down without a summons to the inner sanctum for a
briefing." She tilted her head, pulling the folder away from him. "And
that has to be a good thing."

Frowning slightly as the folder slipped out of reach, Doggett wondered
what was going on. "I hear ya. So it's celebration all round, then."

"You might not think so," Mulder grinned at him.

Doggett raised his own eyebrow. "I might not?"

"Uh uh."

Scully made a clicking noise in her throat. "I'm afraid not, Agent
Doggett."

He stared at his partner. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn
Scully's eyes were twinkling. Scully was teasing him? Surely not?

"What gives, Agent Scully?"

That smile appeared on Scully's face again. I could get used to seeing
that, Doggett thought.

"Bottom line." She laughed softly, as if at some private joke. "An
undercover case."

Mulder gave that irritating bark of laughter that earned him a stare
from both of them. Doggett held the glare a little longer. "Bottom line,
Agent Doggett."

Pointedly ignoring him, Doggett tilted his head. "Yeah?"

"Downtown. Possible emergence of a serial killer."

"Possible? You mean they're not sure?" Doggett snorted.

"Three makes a pattern, but not a serial, apparently." Scully brushed a
stray hair behind her ear.

"Anyway. Bottom line..." Another smile. Despite his pleasure at seeing
her smile in his presence, this enigmatic shit was starting to piss
Doggett off.

"Agents instructed to go undercover to gather information and set up
possible sting scenario with perp."

Doggett scratched his nose, levering himself off the desk edge. "Excuse
me... But I thought this was the X Files. Not Violent Crimes."

Scully nodded. "Perp apparently displays unusual characteristics in the
execution of the crime."

Doggett just stared. "Go on."

"He," Scully cleared her throat. "Or she..."

"Statistically, we're talking white male, 25 to 40. Single, socially
inept, but reasonably successful in his chosen career." Mulder told her,
interrupting her flow without apology.

"Thank you, Agent Muldah," Doggett told him with a glare. "Your input is
appreciated, but I'd appreciate you lettin' Agent Scully finish
speaking, first." Screw equality and all that shit, he hated rude
behaviour from anyone. Mulder grinned and held up his hands in apology.

"Thank you, Agent Doggett," Scully said, flashing Mulder a look.
Something inside Doggett leaped up and punched the air. One nothing to
the Big Dawg. "As I was saying. Unusual characteristics." She cleared
her throat again. "In the act of sex, the killer strips the victims,
strangles them and then..." She paused to swallow. "Then consumes part
of the body."

Mulder flipped more seeds, looking down at the file photographs. "Nasty."

"Consumes?" Doggett frowned.

"He bites off the genitals," Mulder told him cheerfully.

Scully looked wan. Doggett flicked her a glance. He was sure details
like that wouldn't sit well with her pregnant stomach.

"Bites?" Doggett winced.

"Scarfs down the whole meat and two veg," Mulder flicked another seed
off Scully's desk, oblivious to her rigid shoulders.

"Male victims," Doggett said, feeling a step behind.

"And male perp," Mulder nodded, his grin inappropriate to the severity
of the crime. Doggett felt his hackles rise. "You think that's amusin',
Agent Mulder?"

Mulder shook his head. "Not really. I just have a misplaced sense of
irony."

Doggett snorted. "I'll say."

Scully shifted in her seat, a little colour coming back to her cheeks.
"I think Agent Mulder is reacting to the implications in Deputy Director
Kersh's orders." She glanced up, glaring. "With a misplaced sense of
humour, I might say."

Doggett shook his head. He could feel himself wandering off track again.
Did they do it on purpose? Or did all the years of working together
align mental wavelengths? He worked his fingers over the furrows on his
forehead. Perhaps if he had a tantrum on the office floor, they'd stop
it. "Help me out, here, Agent Scully," he said, wearily, opting against
hysterics for the time being. "Reactin' to what?"

"You're going undercover, Agent Doggett," Mulder butted in, stuffing the
rest of the seeds in his jacket pocket. "Hope you like disco." Doggett
was treated to a face splitting grin.

Scully sighed. "Mulder... Do you mind?"

Doggett looked from one to the other. "What's he talkin' about, Agent
Scully?"

"Kersh's orders." Scully's lips twitched. "Apparently you fit the victim
profile. You're ordered to go undercover at the club where the last two
victims were taken."

"I fit the profile?"

Mulder leaned over Scully, pathologically incapable of keeping his mouth
shut. "You know, Agent Doggett. Tall, blue eyed, skinny..." A wicked
glint in the other man's eye irritated Doggett. On the mature side."

He arranged his face in a neutral mask. He refused to give Mulder the
satisfaction of reacting to his words. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mulder laughed, moving round from the cabinet, prowling closer
to Doggett, who watched him approach, keeping his face calm. "You fit
the profile, alright, Agent Doggett." Doggett stared straight ahead, as
Mulder walked in back of him. Clenching his jaw, he thanked his drill
sergeant for hours of motionless parade ground training. He was not
going to turn round and look. He refused to. "You fit the profile just
fine." The voice very close now. Way too close. Doggett tightened his jaw.

"Mulder..." Scully said. She was shaking her head in weary amusement. As
Doggett watched, she rolled her eyes at him. She thought this clown was
funny?

"Only thing is..." Doggett's eyes snapped wide as fingers ruffled
through the hairs on the back of his neck. "You really need to get a
hair cut, John."

Whipping round to face the other agent, Doggett felt his fists clench
involuntarily. "Whadd'ya think you're doin'?" He growled.

"Just checking you out for the job, Agent Doggett." Mulder backed away,
laughing. He flicked his gaze towards Scully. "Tell him."

The fists stayed tight. If he took a step forward, he calculated that he
could probably break that ridiculous nose in one blow. Was it instant
dismissal for striking a fellow agent? Doggett couldn't think past the
cloud of indignation of having Mulder touch him.

"Agent Doggett..." Scully voice cut through the atmosphere between the
two men. "Agent Doggett?"

Doggett tore his glare away from Mulder's grin with sheer self control.
He parted his lips to drag a breath in. Sometimes, just sometimes, his
temper howled to be let out. And he had a feeling this particular Agent
was going see that beast fly, one of these days. Brought to you by the
letter M, for Mulder. "What?" He turned his back on Mulder, trying not
to snap. He swore, if that man touched him again... He could feel a
headache coming on.

"Assistant Director Kersh wants you to go undercover at the Eros Club.
Tonight. Full wire tap, video surveillance and outside back up." She was
all business like and brusque.

He rubbed his forehead again. Okay, undercover. No problem. No big deal.

"The Eros Club." Mulder whispered, too close to his ear to be comfortable.

"So?" Doggett took a deep breath and locked eyes with Scully to calm
himself down. She was looking at him with one of those smiles all over
her face. Did she practise them in front of a mirror?

That voice behind again. "Ever been there, Agent Doggett?"

Any second now, he was going to bury his fist in Mulder's face and fuck
the consequences. "No."

"Interesting place."

"Really?" Yep. Any second now.

Across the room, Scully sighed. "Mulder. Stop annoying Agent Doggett."
She picked up the file and held it out. "Here. You might as well get up
to speed on this thing."

At last, thought Doggett, stepping forward to take the folder. I get in
the loop. He nodded his thanks and opened it up. "So what's this Eros
place then? Some sort of disco?"

Behind him, Mulder chuckled. Doggett flicked his blue eyes to Scully.
Talk to me, they said. Talk to me before I lay one on him. To his
surprise, he watched a pink blush crawl over her cheeks.

"It's a um..." Scully busied herself, tidying her pens, not looking at him.

"It's a...?" he prompted.

Mulder made a snickering noise behind him. "It's a gay club, Agent
Doggett."

The anger inside Doggett drained away, leaving him with a very dry
throat and what felt very much like a creeping blush of his own.

Doggett swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't squeak when he spoke. "A
gay club?" Okay. Reasonable steady.

"Um... Yes." Scully still had trouble looking at him. Part of his mind
wondered why that was.

"I see." The professional agent inside him was currently arguing in a
corner with his masculinity. There was absolutely no reason why this
should be any different to any other sort of undercover work. He'd done
enough of them when he was a cop. Drug dealers, thieves. Assorted
maniacs. Shit, he'd even posed as a paedophile, once. The memory of that
case brought a twitch to his face. He pushed the images away. This one
should be a walk in the park.

"Lucky you, Agent Doggett." Mulder moved round to lean on Scully's desk.
"You get to dress up and go boogie with all the big boys." Doggett kept
his eyes on the folder in front of him, pretending to read. He didn't
want to look at Mulder just now. He wasn't sure he'd got his 'calm' face
on.

"Yeah, lucky me," he said, neutrally. The trickle of apprehension had
evolved into full flow. Shit. This whole situation was just giggle
fodder to Mulder's sick sense of humour. Well he'd be damned if he'd let
his discomfort show. "What's the plan then, Agent Scully?" Business like
again, Scully tapped the phone on the desk.

"Well, we'll wire you up. The lab has some micro feed mics they want to
try out in the field."

Doggett nodded, pulling himself back together. Get a grip, man.

"And the club has agreed to let us set up an eye over the exits. That
gives a good view of the alleyway."

"Back up?"

"Out front. Usual van." He nodded again. Straight forward set up. Should
be smooth.

"Bodies?"

Scully shook her head. "Just you." She pulled a face. "Kersh didn't
approve another agent on the floor." She raised her chin. "You're on
your own, I'm afraid."

Doggett shrugged. No surprise there. Kersh was a skinflint and an asshole.

"No problem."

"But..." Scully glanced at the door. Doggett frowned. "I see no reason
to put your life in danger simply because of budgetary constraints."

"So?"

Scully smiled. "I've arranged for 'undercover' undercover back up." The
sound of sunflower seed cracking sliced through Doggett's brain. An
exquisitely uncomfortable image of being smirked at while he did the
job, as painful as a paper cut. No. No way. He'd rather go into the
damned club stark naked than have Fox Mulder eyeballing him. That
headache was starting to really bite down.

He scowled. "You don't mean..."

Mulder wandered towards Scully. He was chomping those damned seeds
again. Doggett really wanted to slap them out of his hands.

"Scully thought you should have someone in place. To watch your back."
His eyebrow wiggled up and down suggestively, as his eyes roved up and
down Doggett's body. Doggett clenched his teeth and forced the blush
down. If he said what he thought he was going to say, that tantrum he'd
considered was imminent.

"Unofficially, of course," Mulder grinned.

"It has to be off the record, Agent Doggett. Kersh would..." She paused.
"Well, let's say it wouldn't be in the best interests of the Bureau to
have personnel acting as unofficial back up on a case."

"I bet not."

"So." Mulder rubbed his hands together. "Don't worry about being left
hanging, Agent Doggett. Someone will be in place. Incognito."

He didn't want to do this to himself. He didn't want to give Mulder the
satisfaction. He really didn't want to ask. Shit. He couldn't help
himself. "Who?"

Scully coughed. Mulder grinned. Doggett looked from one to the other.
Neither spoke.

"Let's just say it's all under control, Agent." Scully said.

That didn't sound very reassuring. "Who, Agent Scully?" he repeated.

"Wait and see, Agent Doggett." Mulder said, that shit eating grin
plastered all over his face.

"I'd rather know beforehand, if it's all the same to you."

"Spoilsport." Mulder shook his head.

"Please, Agent Doggett. Trust me." Scully pinned him with her eyes.
"It's taken care of. I'm not at liberty to say any more, at the moment."

Swallowing the dozen or so snappy remarks, Doggett glared and nodded,
reluctantly. He would trust her. He didn't like it, but he would hold
his council, for her. But if he caught sight of this seed eating joker
sitting at the bar, he guaranteed shit was going to fly. He moved behind
his desk, slapping the folder down, wincing as the photographs spilled
out. They were not nice. Doggett felt his nuts shrivelling a little at
the close ups. He sat, unconsciously pulling at his trouser legs. "What
time's kick off?" he asked Scully, holding up the case notes.

"Your place. At eight."

The papers in Doggett's fist folded gently and hung limply as he stared,
motionless.

Scully glanced at him. "To prepare. Your place."

There were all sorts of comments he could make to that. Not many of them
suitable for family viewing. One or two of them might even make Agent
Scully drop the kid. He settled for clearing his throat. "Not here?"

"No."

Why the hell not? A petulant voice inside his head whined. "May I ask why?"

"Cover."

Well, this was a fun conversation, Doggett thought, returning the notes
to the folder. The woman was enigmatic to the extreme. The two of them
had a thing for oblique answers. Well, fuck it. He was sick of oblique.

"Agent Scully. I hate to presume to question your authority over
this..." Like hell. "But since when do undercover ops. include the
agent's private residences?"

At least she had the grace to look uncomfortable. Doggett took grim
pleasure in that.

"I want to make sure everything is secure." She fiddled with the desk
tidy again.

"Secure?" He was gonna push this all the way. "No chance of any
mistakes." A flash of something flickered over her face. "I've seen the
bodies in those photographs. I don't want..." She dragged in a breath.
"I don't want to expose you to any unnecessary risk."

Oh. Surprise must be written all over his face. Scully gave a
straightforward smile.

"I care about your safety, Agent Doggett." How about that? That was one
of the nicest thing she'd said to him. He nodded, opening his mouth to
speak. Shit. What the hell was he gonna say?

Mulder cut into his thoughts, knocking aside anything he had been about
to say. "So, Agent Doggett. What're you going to wear?"

Blue eyes screwed up in a wince. "What?"

"Your outfit." Mulder held his hands out and indicated up and down.
"What look are you going for?"

There was way too much mirth in Mulder's voice for his liking. He shook
his head. "Whadd'you mean, Agent Muldah?"

"You gonna go butch? Preppy?" He unleashed another grin. "How about
drag? I could see you in a nice little black number with matching
handbag and shoes."

Underneath the desk, Doggett gripped his thigh tightly. His jaw spasmed.
He was gonna crack a tooth at this rate. And if he did, he wasn't the
only agent that'd be going to the dentist.

"Mulder." Scully flicked a pencil at the smirking man. "Enough. Agent
Doggett. Ignore him. He's trying to press your buttons." She scowled at
Mulder. "Casual dress is fine."

Mulder couldn't resist. "Dress? See, I told you, Doggett..."

Another pencil flew. "Mulder!"

Breathing through his mouth, Doggett jerked his head at Scully. "Jeans,
okay, Agent Scully?" He didn't trust himself to look at Mulder. And he
really didn't trust himself to speak to the other man. The temptation to
jump over the desk and pound on him was overwhelming.

"Jeans will be fine." She smiled. "And a tee shirt, perhaps."

"Wasn't planning on goin' bare chested," Doggett muttered, looking down,
hoping he wasn't blushing. He didn't need the thought of Agent Scully
picturing his naked torso.

Mulder couldn't resist. "How disappointing..."

"Go and research something, Mulder." Scully selected a file from the in
box. "Take this with you." She tossed it to him.

"You're no fun, Scully," he complained, but wandered to the door,
anyway. He waved over to Doggett. "See you tonight, Johnny."

Oblivious to the nasty look he was getting, Mulder winked. "And don't
forget that haircut, will you? Our perp. Likes the military look."
Without waiting for a reply, he grinned at Doggett and left, whistling
an Abba tune.

Behind her desk, Scully sighed. "Sorry," she said, shrugging and
indicating the empty doorway. Doggett grunted, not trusting himself to
speak. He looked down at the file, sorting through the scenes of crime
work.

Bad enough he should get the short straw with this case, but to have
Mulder ragging on him made it just peachy. Maybe if he was really lucky,
someone would catch this maniac before tomorrow night, and he wouldn't
have to go to some queer bar and act like one of the girls. And just how
the hell was he supposed to do that? How did guys behave in those
places? Was everyone expecting him to... Images from past vice squad
videotapes bounced around in his mind.

Shit.

He rooted in his side drawer for an aspirin.

Damn Mulder.

Damn Kersh.

And damn this headache.

Friday evening.
Doggett Residence, Falls Church.
7.45 p.m.

John Doggett stood in front of his bathroom mirror, staring without
seeing. Leaning one hand on the edge of the sink, he dragged his razor
over his chin instinctively. He was not looking forward to this. Not one
little bit. The whole thing just wasn't his scene.

Mulder might be right at home in the Eros Club--probably wouldn't turn a
hair, but the whole idea didn't lift John Doggett's dress one little
bit. He grimaced at the analogy. Then sighed.

Okay, okay, maybe he'd been lucky, or unlucky enough to have run into a
few offers in his time, but he'd never taken them up. Never wanted to...
Sudden memory of another man's warm hand on his chest in the Marine
showers... He paused. Foam dripped down on his chest. Had he ever wanted
to? Even just a little? For curiosity's sake?

His macho mind skidded away from answering that. It was a stupid
question. He'd been married. Had a son. He was straight. And he was
about to go into a gay bar and pretend to be right at home.

Shit.

What would Rudy have made of this? He'd have laughed his ass off and
offered to show him the ropes, that's what Rudy would have made of it.
Doggett smiled through the foam. Good old Rudy. One of the best Marines
he ever served with, best drinkers he'd ever gotten slammed with, and
the only man who'd ever put his hand on him, without getting punched out.

No If he'd ever wanted to wander along the road less travelled, he'd
have wandered down it hand in hand with Lieutenant Rudy Wallis. He
grinned at the memory of Rudy drunkenly telling him he'd consider it a
great privilege to be the one to fuck John every which way to Sunday,
should he ever get the urge.

He shook his head, rinsing his razor. Good friend. Regularly told him he
was very disappointed John'd never felt the need to take him up on the
offer. The memory sharpened to Rudy lying in the street, still
relentlessly offering to give John a blow job while his life bled away.
He had been royally pissed that the one and only time he got to lie in
John Doggett's arms, was as he died. He was glad he finally gave his
friend the kiss he'd asked for every day for five years. The look on his
face had made it worth the embarrassment.. He pushed the memory away.
See ya, Rudy, man.

He stared in the mirror. Shit! What was he doing? He'd shaved without
thinking it was what he'd do automatically, if he was going out on a
date. Damn! What if men all went stubbled to these places? He glared at
himself. Half done. Oh great. He was neither one thing or the other. He
shook his head in disgust at his lack of thought, and finished the job.
He'd just have to be one of the clean shaven queers.

The sound of the doorbell rang out as he was finishing up, making him
jump, cutting his chin. Shit! Dabbing angrily at the welling spot, he
charged out of the bathroom and down the stairs. The bell rang again.
"Okay, okay," he yelled. "Keep your panties on!" He flung the door open
and glared at Mulder, standing with his finger on the bellpush. He had
known... Just known it would be him. "I'm not deaf, Agent Muldah," he
growled.

Mulder's eyebrows jumped. He raked his gaze up and down the body in
front of him. Doggett remembered his state of undress. He felt himself
colouring up and fought the urge to cover himself with his hands.

"Nice look, Agent Doggett," Mulder said, nodding. "The whole 'wet' thing
suits you, I think."

Eyes narrowed, Doggett opened his mouth to tell Mulder to take a flying
fuck.

"I still think a tee shirt would be an idea, though." Scully stepped
from behind Mulder's back, a smile of amusement playing on her lips, as
she did the up and down thing with her eyes. "I have no idea where we'd
put the wire, otherwise."

Great. Now he knew he was blushing. Shit. Why hadn't he stopped to pull
a shirt on? "You'd better come in," he muttered, moving to one side.
Chuckling, the two of them walked inside. Closing the door without
slamming it was an exercise in self control. Out of sight of the other
agents, Doggett shut his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead on the back
of the door. Damn.

"Okay if we set up here?" Scully called through from the kitchen.

"Sure." He called. He really couldn't give a shit where she set up.
Alaska would be fine with him. Or even outer Goddamned space.

"Let's rock and roll, Agent Doggett," Mulder was cheerful to the point
of obnoxious. Doggett dragged himself from the hall and into the lounge.
"Come on. Time's a wastin'. And the man of your nightmares might be
looking for you, as we speak." He pointed at Doggett's head. "Love what
you've done with your hair, baby."

"Yeah, well." He could feel another wave of colour threatening to change
the shade of his ears. "I read the files, too. Gotta match the profile."
The barber in his usual shop had raised an eyebrow at the request for a
very short back and sides, this evening. Asked if he had a hot date. He
hadn't bothered explaining. "Mind if I get dressed, first?" He said,
conscious of his state of undress, and waving a hand at his chest, moved
towards the stairs.

Scully shook her head. "Let me fix the mic, first." She pulled reams of
wires out of the briefcase on the counter. "I need bare skin to tape to."

Shit. He'd forgotten about that particular joy. "Um..."

"Come on, now. Don't be a baby." Mulder took his elbow and pulled. "It's
not gonna hurt. Not until she rips it off, anyway."

Doggett looked pointedly at the hand, then back up to Mulder. He made no
attempt to move. Getting the point, Mulder let go. "Okay, okay. Have it
your way." He turned, yelling. "Scully, tell him!"

"Shut up, Mulder." Doggett walked into the kitchen, annoyance overcoming
nerves. What was there to be embarrassed about? She was a Doctor, for
heaven's sake. She'd seen bodies before. Okay, so hers were usually
dead, he told himself, approaching her. Suck it up, Marine. Be a man. He
stood in front of her, squashing his embarrassment. "How d'you want me?"

Scully glanced up from the electrical spaghetti. "Dry, might be a good
start." She nodded to the towel rack. "The tape won't take, otherwise."

"Oh. Yeah." He snatched a dish towel and rubbed at the damp spots on his
chest. He gave his face a once over too and tossed the towel in the
washer. He put a finger to his chin, inspecting. It'd stopped bleeding.

"Nice house." Mulder wandered in, looking at everything.

"Thank you." Automatic response. Product of good manners. He really
wanted to tell Mulder to sit the fuck down and stop being so goddamned
nosy, but he held his tongue and walked back to Scully.

"Okay. Dried."

She glanced at his chest again. Didn't seem to faze her, but damn! It
made him nervous. Being the only half naked person in the room will do
that to you. Her head cocked one way then the other. She held up the
thin wire. "I can't decide where to put it."

Mulder sniggered. Doggett turned his head to give him a look, but Scully
didn't seem to be paying him any mind.

Doggett's eyes widened. "What?"

"You know. He might feel it if you end up dancing or something." Shit!
What the fuck? His mind went into overdrive. 'Dancing' was bad enough.
He was having a hard enough time with 'dancing'. But the idea of
'something' was really doing a number on his imagination. "Agent
Scully..." he began. How was he going to put this? That there was no
fuckin' way on God's green earth he was going to dance with another man,
let alone allow 'something'.

"Maybe there." She leaned forward and held the wire to his chest, just
below his sternum. His belly jerked. Scully looked up and grinned. A
real life, honest to goodness grin. "Ticklish?"

Despite his discomfort, Doggett grinned back down at her. Oh, yes, he
thought to himself. Very. But he decided many years ago, that it wasn't
very butch, and downright foolish, to admit it. Especially to a woman.
So he lied. "Not so's you'd notice."

"Okay," she said, looking back at what she was doing. Her fingers were a
little chilly, as she moved the wire around, trying out different
positions. Doggett bit down on the inside of his lip to keep from
laughing. Torture. It was sheer torture. Perhaps he should have told the
truth. Maybe she'd ease up with the touching, if she knew what this was
doing to him. One cool hand steadied itself on his side, as the wire
travelled from belly to shoulder, with his partner making little grunts
of disapproval. He tipped his head back a little, swallowing howls of
laughter. If she kept this up much longer, he'd either wet his pants or
scream himself into a heap.

"Make your mind up, Scully. The poor guy's dying with you groping him
all over."

A relieved breath hissed out between Doggett's lips as Scully
straightened up. She glanced at the man draped over a kitchen stool. "I
am not groping him, Mulder." She frowned. "This new wire is tricky." A
lip disappeared between her teeth. "I can't decide the most discreet
place to put it."

"I..."

Scully held up her hand, without even glancing at Mulder. "No. No
suggestions, thank you. That's not helping."

Mulder shrugged. "Only offering."

You could offer to fuck off out of my house and not sit there, staring
at me like a leper at a moisturizing convention, Doggett thought,
nastily. The other man hadn't taken his eyes off the tickle fest for a
second. What was with that? Whatever Mulder's reasons for staring, fact
was, it was making him very uncomfortable.

"That's it!" Scully snapped her fingers, making them both jump.

"What's it?" Doggett asked, pathetically grateful she was keeping her
hands to herself, and not torturing him any more.

"His help." She smiled happily and waved her hand. "Get over here,
Mulder. I want to borrow you."

"Ooh! Talk dirty to me, Scul!" Mulder unfolded himself and hurried over
to her.

"Hold him." She indicated Doggett.

"What?" Mulder frowned.

"Agent Scully, I don't need to be held down." He shook his head. "I'm
not that ticklish. Honest." The last thing in the world he wanted to do,
was give Fox Mulder the perverse satisfaction of holding him immobile
while Scully poked and prodded at his body.

"I don't mean hold you down." She made encircling motions with her arms.
"I mean hold'. Like you're dancing." Doggett stared at her. She couldn't
be serious, he thought. No way. "I beg your pardon?" he said, erring on
the side of good manners.

"Dancing." Scully moved her hips and sashayed.

Mulder nodded, understanding far more than Doggett wanted him to. "Oh,
yeah, I see where you're going with this. See if I can feel the wire."

"Bingo."

"No." Doggett backed up. "No way." Abso fucking lutely no way. His ass
hit the work surface. His hands came up as Mulder approached.

"Hey, Doggett. What's the problem?" Mulder asked, another of those grins
all over his face.

"You're the problem, Agent." He tried glaring at the other man. It
didn't seem to be having any effect.

"Come on, Agent Doggett. How else will we know if the wire is
detectable?" Scully had her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
It was one of her I'm going to get my own way scowls.

Not this time, sister, Doggett thought. "It'll be fine," he snapped.

"No it won't."

"Come here, Doggett," Mulder grinned, holding his hands out. "Give us a
cuddle."

"Fuck you." The words popped out without Doggett's permission.

Scully's eyebrows went up.

Mulder laughed. "Maybe later, big boy."

Glancing at Scully, Doggett rubbed his fingers over his wrinkled
forehead and bobbed his head. "I apologise for my language, Agent
Scully," he said. He was mortified he'd let his temper get the better of
him. His father would have whipped his ass for using that word in front
of a woman. Southern manners were a pain in the ass sometimes.

"Not a problem, Agent Doggett." Scully shrugged. "I'm a sailor's
daughter. I've heard worse."

Mulder chuckled. "She's said worse, too, man." He tilted his head on one
side. "But I wouldn't push your luck, if I were you. Now come on." He
held out his arms.

All the other words he could use that would have gotten him a thrashing
from his Pa ran through Doggett's mind, all the way to a little trapdoor
marked 'common sense'. He knew this was one he was not going to get out
of with any dignity. If at all. He sighed.

"There's a good boy." Mulder was really going to get it, one of these days.

"Behave, Mulder." Scully stepped towards them, the wire dangling. "Try
this." She slapped the thin mic to his left side, in a none too gentle
fashion. Doggett got the message. Behave or be hurt. He reluctantly
stepped forward. One wise crack. Just one smart assed remark...

"Okay," Mulder said, relentlessly invading Doggett's personal space.

Big hands went to the top of denim clad hips. Shit. What the fuck?
Confusion raced through Doggett's mind. What was he supposed to do with
his hands? Where was he even supposed to look, for cryin' out loud?

"Come on, Agent Doggett. Make an effort." Mulder pulled on the hips
under his hands and yanked Doggett forward. Their groins bumped. This
was way.... way too close. The growl he was nurturing, threatened to
crawl out of his throat.

"Mulder..." he warned.

"Look," Mulder stared at him, so near that Doggett could smell those
damned sunflower seeds on his breath.. "How're you gonna get this done
tonight, if you can't even bear to touch me?"

Scully sucked a breath through her teeth. "He's got a point, Agent
Doggett. It won't look good on our report if you mess up through latent
homophobia."

Doggett glared at her. "I'm not a homophobe, Agent Scully."

"Really?" Mulder grinned and bumped their hips together again.

"Really." Doggett snapped back. "I'm a Muldahphobe."

There was a long pause, the ticking of the kitchen clock the only thing
bold enough to make a sound, and then, peals of laughter bubbled out of
Mulder. Doggett lean back in surprise. This wasn't the reaction he'd
been expecting. A punch in the mouth maybe, or a major sulk, but not
this. Giggling helplessly, Mulder pulled Doggett into a hug. Shocked,
Doggett allowed it. He wondered which one of them was unhinged.

"Oh, John Doggett!" Mulder broke away, wiping his face. "That's the most
honest thing I think you've said to me!"

Doggett looked doubtfully at the man in front of him. "I'm glad you're
impressed."

"Oh, yeah." Mulder shook his head. "Thank you."

"You're one twisted guy, Fox Muldah," Doggett said, his face creased in
confusion.

"Better believe it," Mulder replied. "Now where were we?" The long arms
snaked back around Doggett's waist.

"Can you feel it?" Scully asked, peering between the two of them.

I hope to God she's talking about the wire, Doggett thought, trying not
to squirm. He could smell Mulder's shampoo, feel every button on his
shirt. It was making him even more nervous. And he didn't know why. He
was sure his ears were turning bright red.

Mulder chuckled. "You do mean the wire, don't you, Scully?" There was
the sound of a small hand slapping someone's back.

"Yes, Mulder. The wire."

"I dunno." To Doggett's chagrin, Mulder wriggled closer. "Maybe if I..."
Mulder pulled closer, slipping his chin up onto a bare shoulder. The
hands slid up Doggett's sides, brushing across skin, raising goosebumps.
They wandered across a very tense back. Instinctively, Doggett raised
his own hands and rested them on the biceps. Damn. This felt weird. If
it was a woman in his arms he could... No. Doggett squashed that thought
dead.

"I don't think I can feel it. What d'you think, Agent Doggett?" Mulder's
breath was warm in his ear. Doggett frowned, disturbed by the feeling.
It wasn't as unpleasant as he would have imagined. And that was as
distracting as shit.

"I... er, no." He floundered, embarrassed, wondering what he was
supposed to be saying. What he was supposed to be feeling. Confusion and
consternation did battle in his head, both finally giving way to anger.
"How the hell would I know?" he snapped verging on the edge of his
temper. "I'm wearing the damn thing."

"Oh, yeah."

Mulder was milking this, Doggett realised. He gripped the arms under his
hands and pushed roughly away. "Satisfied?" he asked Scully, keeping his
eyes steadfastly away from the man in front of him.

"I don't know..." Scully frowned. She moved to pull the wire from his
skin. The tape ripped with a bite.

"Ow!" he complained, letting go of Mulder and clamping a hand to his side.

"Told you it'd hurt," Mulder grinned.

"Don't be a baby," Scully admonished, advancing again.

"It stings," Doggett told her. He'd like to see her have sticky tape
ripped from her skin without complaint.

"Take it like a man, Agent Doggett." Mulder leaned against the counter,
arms folded. He was enjoying himself way too much, Doggett thought. Sick
sack of shit.

"Try here." Scully jabbed her hand forward and slapped the wire in the
first place she'd tried. Doggett rolled his eyes. Just like a woman.

"Okay. Fine." He looked down at the intrusion. Good job he didn't have a
hairy chest, he thought. That'd be a bitch to pull off.

"Good job you're a smoothie," Mulder remarked. "Skinner nearly went
through the roof when he did a tap last year."

Doggett gave Mulder a sideways glance. He wondered if Mulder had spent a
lot of time staring at their boss while he'd had a tap fitted, or if he
was just the lucky one.

"Well?" Scully waved her hand at Doggett's body.

"Why don't you try?" Mulder offered.

"It wouldn't work, Mulder." Scully looked a little uncomfortable.

"And why's that, might I ask?"

She gave him a look. "I'm not tall enough, Agent Mulder. That's why. I
don't reach the same bits as another man would."

"Ah. I see." A grin.

Doggett had the sneakiest of feelings that Mulder had known Scully's
answer before he asked the question. Then suddenly he got it. A flash of
insight. Mulder was just friggin' around. Messin' with his mind. Well
fuck that. Two could play dirty. He reached for Mulder.

"Come here," he ordered. Pulling the other man none too gently towards
him, he wrapped himself around a gaping agent, in a full, tight body hug.

"What...?" Mulder gasped, all his breath squeezed out of his body.
Smirking with the sweet sound of victory in his ears, Doggett ground
himself against Mulder.

"Can you feel that, Agent Muldah?" He growled in the other man's ear.
He'd give the smart mouthed SOB something to profile. Have him in
therapy before you could say Agent Asswipe.

"Um..." It made a pleasant change not to get some smart assed remark.

"Well?" He turned his head away from Scully and whispered in an ear.
"Can you feel this?" he murmured.

"Um... No, Agent Doggett." Mulder struggled against the embrace. "I
can't feel the wire." It was like holding a panicking cat. Mulder
wriggled and squirmed.

"Okay...okay. Lemme go!"

Finally laughing for the first time that day, Doggett released the other
agent. Mulder sprang away as if singed. "What did you do that for?" he
whined.

"Do what?" Doggett grinned his lop sided grin.

"Oh, stop fussing, Mulder." Scully had missed the sub text to the
situation. But he knew damn well Mulder hadn't. He raised an eyebrow,
challenging him to make something of it. Mulder looked away, saying
nothing. Two nothin' to the Big Dawg. Perhaps this wasn't going to be
such a crappy case, after all.

"Was that okay?" Scully looked from one to the other.

"Fine by me," Doggett told her, shrugging.

Mulder made some sort of grunting noise and folded his arms, defensively.

"Is that a 'yes', Mulder?" He grunted again and Scully sighed.

"Fine." She reached for the roll of tape. "Lets secure that there,
then." Stripping off a generous length of tape, Scully's firm fingertips
pressed the wire flush to Doggett's chest, the radio transmitting tail
disappearing down towards his jeans. He watched her work, her tongue
sticking out from between her lips as she concentrated. "There you go."
She patted the tape. "That shouldn't be too uncomfortable." Waving
vaguely she indicated his jeans. "You can tuck the tail in yourself."

Doggett grinned, the thought of asking her to do it for him, tickling
his lips. It'd almost be worth it to watch her blush. The trapdoor of
common sense slammed in his mind. Maybe not, he re considered, shoving
the wire down his jeans with his left hand. She'd probably shoot him.

"What are you going to put on?" she was asking, as she packed away the kit.

Doggett looked up, blankly. "Huh?" Oops. Wasn't paying attention.

She flapped her free hand up and down. "Clothes. On top. What?"

"Dunno." He shrugged, and slipped the latch on the trapdoor in his mind.
Grinning, he turned to the sulky man by the sink. "Whadd'you think,
Agent Muldah?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Whadd'you think I should go for?" This was actually quite fun. He could
suddenly see what Mulder saw in baiting people. "Button down or tee
shirt? Which d'ya think'll look good?"

"Why're you asking me?"

Oh, boy, did that man have a pout, when he put his mind to it. "Well,
you seemed to have a pretty good idea about what I'd look good in, this
morning."

Mulder pulled a face.

"Well, Mulder?" Scully folded her arms. A faint smile was playing on her
lips.

"Oh, I don't know." Mulder pushed himself off the counter. "Suit
yourself." He stalked off into the lounge.

Scully chuckled. She looked over at Doggett and winked. "Touche, I
think," she said.

"Oh, yeah." Doggett smiled back at her. "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"
he whispered.

Eros Bar.
Friday night.
9.30 p.m.

The bar was crowded. He'd expected that. It was smoky, he'd expected
that, too. Even the decibel level wasn't totally unexpected. But he
hadn't anticipated the physical contact. That was taking a bit of
getting used to. In his ordinary run of the mill, heterosexual
existence, a hand on the ass was a sure way of getting a punch in the
mouth. Here it seemed to be a routine gesture. Sort of like shaking
hands. Doggett shook his head in self-depreciation. His leaning-curve
was steep to vertical.

They never did courses on this in the F.B.I. training, Ma. He pushed his
way through the throng, towards the bar. Been here ten minutes, and
already he'd had more hands on his body than in the prior ten months.
Actually, he thought, sliding away from another tight squeeze on the
ass, make that the past coupla years. The journey across town in the
cab, his head had been buzzing, full of Scully's de-briefing and
Mulder's smart remarks. The other agent had recovered his health and
temper enough to try and make Doggett feel uncomfortable about what he
was going to have to do here. Immerse yourself, he'd said. Lose yourself
in the role, he'd said. There'd been a glint in Mulder's eye as he told
him to drink, dance, make contact. Make out, he'd said, waiting for
Doggett to explode. But he was wise to Mulder's tricks. He'd just nodded
as if taking it all in. The lack of rise out of him had driven Mulder
nuts, he could tell.

"Dance?"

The heavy-set, vested man in front of Doggett barred his path. Doggett
shook his head, no. The man looked him up and down, then wandered away.
Doggett watched him go. Was it just that easy? One word, one shake of
the head, and the interaction was over. Amazing. None of the verbal BS
involved in a straight bar. He snorted to himself. Whole lot simpler.

He looked around, getting his bearings. The bar should be over there. He
could really use a drink. The heat in the club had brought him out in a
light sweat almost as soon as he set foot inside. Good job he'd had that
haircut. He could feel what hair that was left clinging to his head. He
eased his lean body through a mixture of men that took his imagination
and rattled it about. There were young men in tight clothes, older men
in even tighter stuff, and pretty boys in expensive outfits. Quite an
challenging mixture.

He was glad he'd opted for tight, white tee with his jeans. He didn't
think he could have stood anything more. The way it had clung to him had
made Agent Scully smile, and had made Mulder look away. There were some
serious issues, there, Doggett thought. Not that he was going to help
Mulder resolve them. No way, Jose.

Reaching the bar, he wedged himself between a couple of lumberjack
look-a-likes. They turned to look him up and down. He nodded,
pleasantly. They looked away. Obviously not their type. A grin slid on
to his face. Oh well, can't win em all. He held up a hand to the barman.

"Whadd'll it be?" the man yelled over the soundtrack from hell.

"Club Soda," Doggett yelled back. That got him a funny look, but he
couldn't afford to get hammered tonight. Never mind he might end up as
the main course in some freak's buffet, he might very well get himself
gang-banged. And standing knee deep in queers, getting his ass groped to
hell and back, he was hard pressed to think which one was worse.

Another hand made itself known. Fuck! Doggett scowled. He'd be black and
blue tomorrow. He turned sideways, to present less of a target and
scanned the place, perfectly secure in the fact that everyone would
think he was just looking for someone. He almost laughed at the irony.
His drink arrived at his elbow, and tossing several bills down, he
turned to pick it up, his eyes travelling down the bar. What does the
perp look like? He wondered. Big butch guy, like the beast man in
leather over there? Or was he some puny wimp that liked to kill to prove
himself? Was he standing next to him? Doggett narrowed his eyes. That
was a thought to cool a man down. The images of the crime-scene pictures
flickered in his head.

Concentrate, John. He sipped his drink, carefully scanning the crowd.
His eyes flicked on a pair of dark eyes looking slap-bang into his own.
Sipping soda and taking a sudden shocked breath sent liquid down the
wrong pipe. He sputtered, gasped and spilled drink down his front. Fuck!
He wiped his shirt and looked up again.

About halfway down the bar, sat Walter Skinner. Fuck me, thought
Doggett. He wiped the back of his hand over his open mouth and gaped.
The A.D. was sitting staring at him, clad in a black tee-shirt, sans
glasses, a chunky watch he'd never seen before on his wrist. A glass
came up in a slow salute. Shit! This was the unofficial' back-up?
Doggett coughed up the last of his errant soda. No wonder Scully hadn't
wanted to say who it would be. The Bureau gossip-mill would've had a
field day. He raised his own glass. Nice to see you, sir, he thought to
himself. Come here often?

An unexpected hand snaked around his waist, and for the second time, in
as many minutes, Doggett spilled his drink. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to
make you jump." A voice behind him sent shivers down his back. He guy
was standing so close, Doggett could feel the man's hard-on wedged in
his ass. JesusMaryandJoseph!

He turned his head to look. "Okay," he said, resisting the overwhelming
urge to tell the man to back the fuck out of his personal space. Taller
than him, longer hair. Although that wasn't difficult, after todays
massacre. Probably a bit younger than the perp profile. He couldn't
tell. He dredged up a weak smile. He was supposed to be in character,
after all.

The guy grinned and ran his hand up to Doggett's nipple, giving it a
squeeze.

Shit! The drink nearly went again. Gotta get used to this, John, he told
himself, taking a deep breath. This might be you-know-who. He wondered
if the guy had felt the wire, pressed to his chest.

"Wanna dance, gorgeous?"

Doggett's eyebrows climbed. Okaaaay. So he wasn't going to get used to
this that quickly. "Now?" he asked, instantly realising he sounded like
a complete doofus.

The tit-pincher laughed. "No. Next year. Of course now." The hand
squeezed again, and Doggett gripped the glass hard. There were playful
pinches and there were downright painful ones, and this was way too far
into the latter for his taste. He placed the glass on the bar and turned
to face the man behind him, taking the offending hand in his own.

"That hurt," he said, holding the hand in a tight grip.

The guy just grinned some more. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Either very drunk, very stupid, or very twisted. Doggett
wondered which it was.

The guy pulled him towards the packed floor. "C'mon."

Doggett was dragged through the crowd, attached to the tit-man by a grip
of steel. He glanced back to see Skinner's eyes following him across the
heads of the crowd. Keep me in sight, Boss man, he said, silently. The
crush was even tighter out here. Men in front, to the side and behind.
You'd be fucked if you were claustrophobic, Doggett muttered, finding
himself forced to move, whether he liked it or not.

"What?" the guy screamed, over the pounding of the music.

Doggett shook his head. He wasn't about to try and have a conversation
in this noise. He valued his vocal chords. The thump of the music was
hypnotic, if not tuneful. Doggett wondered what it was, and if the
agents in the surveillance van appreciated it. The thought of Mulder
having to listen to this shit made him smile.

Taking the grin as some kind of sign, the groper moved in on Doggett,
grabbing the loops of his jeans and pulling him forward. He lifted
Doggett's hands and put them around his neck. "Nice," he yelled, sliding
closer.

Doggett bit down on a comment. The back of the guy's neck was all sweaty
and felt most unpleasant under his hands. The other man gripped his
waist tight, and ground himself into Doggett's groin. Shit. He wasn't
being paid enough for this. Thank God this wasn't an F.B.I.
pay-for-view. He'd never live down the humiliation of dancing with this
shmuck. The music dictated the man's thrusts, bumping hard enough to
hurt. Doggett winced, trying to avoid getting his dick pounded to a pulp.

The man smelled hot and sour. God! Even Mulder had smelled better than
this loser. What had he got against deodorant? He could feel his own
sweat trickling down the side of his face, and he hoped to God he didn't
smell as bad as this guy.

"Harder," he shouted into Doggett's hot ear.

Not a chance, Doggett thought. And then a wet tongue shot into said ear,
making him yell out in shock, and fling the man in his arms away.
"Fuck!" He wiped furiously at the moisture.

"What?" Mr. Licky looked confused. Shit. The guy didn't think he'd done
anything wrong.

Maybe this was a standard operating procedure in gay bars. Doggett still
glared. He didn't care if it was standard or not, it made his flesh
crawl. "Back off!" He yelled at the tongue-man. Shit - he knew how High
School virgins felt.

The guy reached for him again. "Okay," he shouted back. "Okay. Slow." He
took Doggett's hands and pulled him close again. This time, the guy
turned Doggett around.

Allowing himself to be maneouvered, Doggett consoled himself with the
thought that at least he didn't have to look at the man. Or smell him.
Fuck. Regardless as to whether this was the perp or not, he'd book
himself a long, hot steaming shower, later. He tried to relax into the
dance, trying even harder to get the pissy look off his face. He'd
hardly begun to relax and move, before the hands began to wander.

Doggett rolled his eyes. How much more of this shit? At his age, he
hadn't expected to feel like a 16 year-old girl, but he imagined that
trying to control a pair of wandering hands was straight out of the
prom-date drawer. Up to his tits, then down, just as quickly to his
groin. Doggett wasn't sure which he hated most.

The sudden sharp pain in his nipples, or the tight squeeze on his
package. His temper was rising, in direct proportion to the way his
balls were retreating into his body. Clenching and grinding his teeth,
he pulled the hands first up then down, trying to find a neutral spot
for them to rest. Feeling the wet kisses being planted up and down the
back of his neck made his guts twist. His belly tightened with anger. He
was hot. He was bothered, he wanted to sit down, but he really wanted to
do, was turn around and punch this guy into the middle of next week. His
face screwed up in disgust as that damned tongue licked behind an ear.
That was it.

Gripping the hands tightly, Doggett pulled them away from his body. One
plucked a nipple painfully, the other scratched his crotch. Fuck. Enough
was enough. Blow the case, screw Kersh and fuck this octopus! "Back
off!" he yelled, turning around.

The guy just stared, fuck-stupid. His hard-on had obviously drained his
brain. "What?" he said.

Doggett threw the man's hands down. "I said, back the fuck off!" Without
waiting to see if the guy got the message, he turned and pushed his way
off the floor.

No more. Enough. Furious, Doggett ploughed forward, trying to get space
between him and the human spaniel. He was all for things oral, but shit,
he preferred it with his Goddamned consent.

"Hey, blue-eyes." The man in front of him looked like he was twice the
width and half as tall again. Not a small man, Doggett felt instantly
dwarfed.

"Get lost," he snapped. Had he got a fucking sign around his neck that
read 'Fresh Meat'?

A huge hand shot out and planted itself on Doggett's shoulder,
effectively stopping his forward motion with a bone-jarring jerk. "I
said, Hey."

Weighing up his chances against a two-legged pick-up truck, Doggett
sighed and did the sensible thing. "Hey."

"I like you."

Terrific. A grizzly bear was in love with him. Why did he have all the
luck? "Tha's nice... Look, man. I just wanna get a drink, okay?"

"I'll buy you a drink, pretty eyes."

Oh, for fuck's sake. "That's okay. I have one at the bar." He made a
move forward. The paw stayed where it was, and so did Doggett. Shit.

"You got nice eyes."

Doggett tried squinting them, to put him off. "No, I don't," he said.
This guy seemed to smell even worse than the last one. Did no-one in
this place have any idea about personal hygiene?

"Yeah, sexy blue eyes." Gentle Ben's big brother moved closer. Towering
overhead, the man leaned into Doggett. "Gimme a kiss."

Oh, shit... This was above and beyond the call of duty. He could just
picture Mulder in that nice, safe van, pissing his pants with laughter.
Doggett cringed down, his face a picture of misery. What had he done to
deserve this case? He must have done more than piss in Kersh's
cornflakes to warrant this level of sexual abuse. The hand on his
shoulder was grinding into bone. He wished he'd brought his gun. He'd
have no problem at all putting a round between this big ape's eyes. Or
in his crotch. Huge, wet lips loomed into focus. Shit. Doggett clamped
his own lips between his teeth and screwed his eyes up. No way... no
fuckin' way.

"Is there a problem?" The deep voice cut through the bass line of the
racket being churned out over the speakers. Doggett almost whimpered in
relief.

"Fuck off," the bear told him, almost touching Doggett's mouth.

Opening wild, panicky eyes on Skinner, Doggett silently begged his Boss.
Anything. Take my pick-up. Take my house. Anything. Just. Get. Him. Off. Me.

"He's with me." A hand reached over the giant shoulder and pulled back.
The look of surprise on the other man's face was almost laughable, if
Doggett had been in the mood for levity.

"What?" The giant turned to face Skinner.

"I said..." Skinner leaned in to the man and bellowed in an ear. "The.
Man. Is. with. Me."

A pissing contest. This was an alpha-male pissing contest. He was being
fought over like some fainting damsel. Doggett stared in absolute
amazement. Skinner glared, puffing himself up into not inconsiderable
bulk. The two men stared at each other.

After a moment, the meaty hand came off his shoulder, and Doggett sagged
in relief, rubbing the sore bit. "All yours, man. Didn't know." The
bigger man grinned and stepped back, relinquishing his trophy to Skinner.

That was it? No bare-knuckle fisticuffs? No handbags at dawn? Great. The
two Fibbies watched the leather-covered apartment block move away. They
looked at each other. Doggett opened his mouth to speak and Skinner took
a step forward and shook his head. A large finger touched the middle of
his chest. The mic. The van. They had an audience. Doggett nodded his
understanding.

If by some quirk of fate, the walking refrigerator happened to be the
perp, then Skinner had just fucked up big time by rescuing him. But by
now, Doggett didn't care. All he felt was a pathetic gratitude for being
saved from a serious tonguing. He mouthed the words, 'Thank you'.

Skinner grinned at him, and lifted an eyebrow. He seemed to find the
whole thing amusing. Doggett wasn't laughing. His shoulder ached, his
ass was sore, and he was all sweaty.

With a vague smirk, Skinner pointed at him, then at his own chest. His
mouth formed words. 'You're mine'. Then he laughed for real.

In your dreams, Doggett thought, suddenly fed up to the back teeth with
being seen as a piece of flesh. He brought his fist up and unfolded a
middle finger. 'Fuck you', he mouthed back.

That raised Skinner's other eyebrow and put a look of surprise on his face.

Yeah, well, Doggett thought as he pushed his way to the bar again.
What's he gonna do? Report me? I don't think so. He pushed forcefully
through and grabbed his soda, downing it in a couple of long swallows.
That felt good. He waved at the barman. Another.

He ran his hand through wet hair. He supposed it was standing up in
funny little spikes by now. Always did when it was wet. Couldn't do a
thing with it.

God. He shook his head. Now he was even sounding queer. He turned his
head to wipe his brow on the top of his sleeve. This was torture. Too
hot. Too noisy, too... fuck. Too everything.

Propping one foot up on the footrest, he snagged his fresh drink and
took a gulp. His tee-shirt was sticking to him. He ran a hand over his
neck. Damn, he was hot. And heavy work boots might be the thing to wear
to gay clubs, but they were making his feet ache.

"Hi."

Standing leaning on the bar with his ass thrust out like that was a huge
mistake. Another hand homed in on his rear. Doggett sighed. This was
getting real tedious. He spoke without turning. "Not interested." The
hand disappeared. That worked well. Maybe if he kept doing it, then he'd
get through the rest of this Goddamned nightmare without being molested.
The music changed tempo, sliding into a more romantic beat. Thank God,
thought Doggett, rolling his eyes heavenward. My poor head and ears
thank you.

"May I buy you a drink, sir?" The hand that rested on the bar was long
and elegant. There were rings on each of the fingers. He could feel
another hand, running lightly down his spine.

Oh, my God, thought Doggett. Priscilla, Queen of the desert. Not in a
million years.

"No, thank you," he said, not looking round.

"Are you quite sure?" The hand was stroking quite gently. Well, at least
it made a pleasant change, Doggett thought. A change from being pinched,
squeezed and groped.

But his answer was still no.

"I'm sure, thank you." Manners cost nothing.

"That's a real shame." The low voice sounded disappointed. He was
managing to piss off quite a number of people tonight. Everyone he ran
into, actually. Doggett gave a grim smile. His ex-wife would be proud of
him.

"Yeah, well. Life's full of disappointments," he told the voice. "Get
over it."

"I'd rather get over you." The stroking was not entirely unpleasant.
Hypnotic.

Doggett shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't."

"You're very handsome." At least this guy was polite.

"And you're very kind. But I'm not interested."

"Then why are you here?"

Shit. Busted. He opened his mouth to think of a snappy answer.

"He's waiting for me."

Oh, for the love of God. Skinner again. Doggett turned his head to glare
over his shoulder. The man was becoming ridiculous.

"No, I'm not," Doggett snarled at both of them, letting his temper show
in his voice. He was a grown man, for God's sake, he could decide for
himself what he was doing at any given time. He didn't need a nursemaid,
a warden or a pimp.

"Oh? Is that so?" The man with the gentle fingers fluttered them over
Doggett's ribcage.

"Yeah," Doggett answered belligerently. Fuck Skinner. What was he
playing at? Mr. White Knight to the rescue? He straightened up. Those
fingers were tickling. "I'm not waiting for anyone."

Skinner stared, his face blank. Doggett couldn't read what was going on
inside his head.

"So."

Doggett looked as the man spoke to him.

"Perhaps a dance?"

No, thank you, Doggett thought, I don't dance with men. But instead,
what he said was: "Yeah."

Skinner blinked and the man took Doggett's hand with a smile. Oh, shit.
Doggett looked down at their joined hand, what he'd just agreed to
dawning on him.

Now what the hell was he going to do? He frowned at his stupidity.
Pig-headedness and a big mouth gets him into the shit once again. He was
being pulled towards the dance floor. Oh, crap.

"I don't think so." Skinner's hand shot out to grab Doggett's trailing hand.

Hang on a Goddamned minute. What was he - some kind of bitch-trophy?
"What d'you think you're doing?" he snarled at his superior. Skinner
said nothing. Just stared at him. Doggett tugged experimentally on his
hand. It wasn't going anywhere. "Oh, for fuck's sake, let me go." The
other guy was still pulling him. This was ridiculous. Tug-of-whore. The
three of them were moving into the crush. Doggett stared at Skinner. The
man was acting crazy. Was he nuts? This is what Scully and Mulder had
told him he was supposed to be doing. Dancing, making contact.

Sweat gleamed on Skinner's head. Maybe he was dehydrated. Could he be sick?

'What's wrong?' he mouthed at Skinner, conscious of the mic. Skinner
shook his head, tilting it to the other man. As if on cue, the man on
the other end of him halted. He looked at Doggett.

"Coming?" he asked.

Doggett looked past his fit of pig-headedness to what Skinner saw. The
stroker was about thirty or so. Dressed nice. Spoke well. Could he be?
He felt Skinner's grip tighten. Oh, shit.

"I...er." Oh, crap, crap, crap. He swallowed. No need to panic. No good
reason to think...

"Well? Are you coming with me, or are you indeed with him?"

Doggett looked from one to the other. How did he get into this shit?
"I'm..." He swallowed, hoping the God of Government agents and the guys
in the surveillance van weren't listening too closely. "I'm with him."
He wondered if the disco lights hid the warmth he felt creeping over his
face.

"Very well." The man released Doggett's hand. "Perhaps you'll allow me
to watch you dance, then."

Not so long as there's little blue fishes in the sea, Doggett told
himself. "Why?" he asked, very aware that Skinner still held his hand in
a tight grip. His hand was very hot.

"For my gratification. And for the humiliation of being spurned." This
guy was seriously creepy.

Doggett swallowed. "And if I say no?"

The stroker smiled. "Who knows," he said. "Perhaps we shall meet again.
When you are without your guardian."

Not really a threat. Nah. Not in the true sense of the word. Besides, he
had a gun... Usually.

Despite the comforting thought of firearms, he could feel a trickle of
sweat running down his spine. This whole thing was seriously fucked-up.
Time to cut loose. "I don't think..."

Skinner's spare hand came up and planted itself in the centre of his
chest. Doggett looked down stupidly at it. The big fingers were pressing
the mic deep into his skin. They'd never be able to hear if he... The
penny dropped.

"Of course," Skinner spoke, squeezing Doggett's hand. "That's not a
problem. You can watch." He pulled Doggett towards him.

"I don't think..." Doggett said again, the tops of his ears radiating
warmth.

"Shhh, John. It's okay."

Doggett gaped. What the hell was this... 'John' business? The A.D. moved
his hand from the microphone, and slid it up to the back of Doggett's
neck, where it proceeded to squeeze gently.

Eyes wide as hub-caps, Doggett floundered, trying to argue as he was
guided inexorably against the black tee-shirt. Shit! There must be
something in the F.B.I. rulebook about this. 'Thou shalt not dance with
thy superiors,' or something. Perhaps if he punched him out? He was
almost as tall as the A.D., but nowhere near so packed in the muscle
department. He might be able to take him on a good day... Maybe. The
hand on his neck squeezed ever so slightly. Maybe not.

Skinner let go of Doggett's hand, moving to place the hot palm on
heaving ribs. Eyes still locked on full-beam, Doggett stared,
outrageously aware of being pressed firmly up against a wide chest, held
still by arms much larger than his own. A pair of calm, dark eyes stared
back. Doggett tried to breathe normally. No. Too smoky, too hot. He
opened his mouth to drag a steadying lung full in. He had a feeling his
panic was being broadcast by his glowing ears and wild eyes.

Skinner turned his head and moved towards Doggett, putting his lips
close to an ear. The huff of his breath made Doggett flinch.

"Okay?" the deep voice said.

Doggett wasn't sure to whom he was speaking, the 'maybe' perp, or him.
The thought hit him cold, in the belly. Perp. Murderer. Maniac. The
photographs from the case flooded into Doggett's mind. Shit. He could
live without recalling those, right now. Actually, he could live without
becoming the next set of those pictures. So maybe Skinner was right. He
tentatively put his hands on the A.D.'s waist.

God! The things he did for his country. Maybe if he just shut his eyes,
it'd all go away.

Gradually, the pressure on the back of his head eased a little, as if
testing to see if Doggett would bolt. It was like a scene from a pervy
version of the Horse Whisperer. He smiled. Funny.

Then another funny thought occurred to him. The A.D. was dancing with
him, and it wasn't as awful as he'd imagined. Not that he'd ever
imagined this... Christ!

But the man had a sense of rhythm, at least. And his hands were staying
in one place. That had to be something. One was in the small of his
back, the other resting on his neck. Just resting, now, not holding him
down tightly.

Doggett sighed. He should really make a move to get away. Surely the
perp had had enough of an eyeful. He stayed where he was. Funny how his
chin seemed to fit nicely into the crook of Skinner's neck. The warmth
from the other man's face against his was calming. He sighed again. And
thank God, Skinner smelled good, too. Better than those other guys. In
fact, he realised with a jolt, this was really quite... He frowned,
thinking. Well, nice was as good a word as any.

On his back, a thumb was moving lazily in time with the music. Up and
down his spine. Up and down. The hand on his head stroked the bristles
at his nape. Gently. Almost a caress. He snorted softly. A caress...
Yeah, right. But he made no move to stop it, all the same.

"You okay?"

The question was his, he knew it, this time. The whisper was right up
against his left ear, hot on his skin. Doggett felt himself give an
involuntary shiver. He nodded into the tee-shirt. Not so bad, he
thought. Been better, been worse. Better than being served up for dinner
on a dirty sidewalk. He moved his hands up to the A.D.'s back, spreading
his fingers, pulling the other man closer. He could do this. No problem.
He could always pretend it was a woman. He thought about that for a
while, then dismissed it.

No. That wasn't right. It felt different, bigger. More solid. Maybe it
was just that he didn't feel like he had to be the protective one, the
tough guy. He ran his hands over hard muscle. No way he had imagination
enough to pretend this was a woman. Besides, he'd never done a woman the
disservice of imagining she was someone else, so he wouldn't insult
Skinner like that. And another thing, it smelled different. Doggett
inhaled, experimentally.

Yeah. Locker rooms and... ghosts of a barrack-room. Rudy Wallis entered
his mind again, for the second time that evening. Doggett bit back a
chuckle. What the hell would Rudy have made of this? Would he be pleased
that Doggett was finally wrapped in a man's arms, moving sensuously to
sappy music? Or would he be pissed that it was some other man's arms,
and not his own? Doggett remembered the touch of Rudy's hand on his
chest that day in the shower, remembered the look in his eyes. Pissed.
Oh, God, he would be royally pissed.

Sorry, Rudy, my man.

He felt the scratch of beard, as Skinner breathed into his neck. Sorry I
never dared dance with you, Rudy. He hugged Skinner tight, remembering
years before.

God... You'd have loved this.

Turning his head slightly, eyes still closed against stinging eyes from
the bomb blast, Doggett kissed the side of Skinner's neck without
conscious thought. I should have swallowed my stupid pride and kissed
you before, he thought. Instead of waiting for two minutes too late. I'm
sorry, Rudy.

A large hand moved down to hold his rear. Doggett didn't flinch. It held
him tight against the man in his arms, pressing their hips together.
They swayed to the music. This was real nice. Hot enough for Beirut,
but... He frowned against a damp neck. Beirut? He'd never danced in Beirut.

Where the hell was he?

Doggett's mind did a helpful rewind of the last couple of minutes,
wrenching his shocked eyes open when he got to the bit... Shit. He.
Just. Kissed...

Oh, fuck. He was dead. No question. Might as well lie down and put
ketchup on his dick - Skinner would be handing him over to the killer on
a platter. Doggett braced himself for impact.

The hand on his neck just carried on stroking. The hand on his ass never
twitched.

Why wasn't he freaking out? Doggett wondered. This was seriously weird.
Never mind Skinner, he thought, he was the one who just kissed another
man. How fucked up was that?

The trapdoor in his head, right next door to 'Common Sense' and labelled
'Self-Awareness,' flapped open, spilling out an uncomfortable thought.
Not nearly as fucked up as the idea that you're dancing with this man,
and getting into it in a big way.

Doggett frowned. A big way? Get outta town. Nah. Not him.

Skinner moved his hips slightly, and Doggett's homed back in, with a
will of their own. They circled around cat-like, then stilled, tight
against what felt most definitely like a...

Oh.

My.

God.

Skinner had a boner.

The concept dried Doggett's throat, making it hard to swallow his shock.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

The trapdoor flapped, unleashing another uncomfortable home-truth. Take
a look downstairs, Big Dog, it said. So have you.

A small noise wiggled out of Doggett's parched throat. Skinner pulled
his head away from Doggett's neck, and bracing the other man with his
hand, looked carefully. "You okay?" he asked very softly.

Doggett hoped it was too soft for the mic to pick up. Please God, let it
be too soft for the mic. Doggett wet his lips. Was he okay? The whole
question seemed too big to know how to start answering it.

Skinner spoke again. "John?"

"Huh?" All the mental trapdoors were bolted. Nailed shut and barred.
Skinner brought his thumb round the side of Doggett's neck and rubbed
the side of his jaw. It slid over the damp, freshly shaven skin.
Doggett's world was narrowing and tilting crazily, with all roads, less
travelled or not, leading towards a very hard reason to not be okay, in
his pants.

"I'm..." He cleared his dry throat and tried to keep his voice low and
steady. "I'm kinda strugglin' here, sir," he whispered.

Understatement of the century. There was a smile on Skinner's mouth,
just a little one, quirking up one corner. "Yeah." He nodded. "I know."

Doggett swallowed again. He had to explain. He had to excuse what was
going on without his permission, in his pants. "I'm not..." he told
himself and Skinner.

The thumb rubbed up and down. "I know."

"I don't..."

Skinner smiled properly. "I know."

Doggett frowned. Couldn't the man say anything else? And why did he have
to keep doing that thing with his thumb. It was driving him nuts.

"It doesn't matter."

Either his brain was fried, or Skinner's was. Must be the heat. "What
doesn't matter?"

"What you are." He leaned closer. "Or not."

Okay. This was just nuts. Certifiable. Off the wall. He wasn't making
any sense to himself, and Skinner made even less. This oblique' shit
must be catching. Doggett blinked several times. Fuckin' great. Now his
eyesight was going.

Either that, or Skinner was getting closer.

Nah.

Oh, shit.

The bigger man was homing in. Pulling his head towards him. Doggett
opened his mouth to speak. Someone had to put the brakes on this crazy
shit. This was as far into role-play as he wanted to venture. "I don..."
Was all he managed before Skinner's mouth covered his. Fuck. Two hands
jerked in surprise on Skinner's back, and his belly rolled over then
tightened. Holy shit!

The hands on his face and ass held him in place while he was firmly
thoroughly kissed. Out of control with curiosity, his brain fired
questions at him in an insane spray of demands, while his body tried
desperately to sort out the torrent of physical input. Was this how it
felt to be kissed like a woman? Was this the way he did it to women? Was
it any different? Skinner's mouth is hot, it told him, stupidly. And
wet. And hard. Those were just the basics, Doggett told himself. There's
a damn sight more going on here, than just that. Hello? This is a guy
kissing you, his logical mind pointed out. Like I could miss that one,
Doggett thought, feeling the scratch of stubble and the ridge of another
man's erection pressed up against his.

And that in itself was another thing on his mind. Far from shrivelling
up in shock, his dick was raging in his jeans, indignant at its
constraint. Tonight's entertainment is brought to you by the letter F,
for Fuckin' hell... How about that? Did someone forget to tell my dick
I'm straight? That's as maybe, his body asked, but doesn't it feel damn
good? Yeah.

Yeah, he had to reluctantly admit that it did. Doggett's eyes slid shut
as he gave a thin groan. This man sure knew how to kiss. A silky tongue
was sliding in and out of his mouth, sending waves of lust down to his
groin and clouding his brain. His dick throbbed. Fuck it. Doggett angled
his head to allow Skinner to go deeper. You bastard Rudy, you never told
me it would feel like this. Had it been minutes? Hours?

Doggett hadn't the faintest idea. The kiss had stretched out in languid
and erotic elastic and around the two of them, shutting out the noise,
smoke and heat. Completely focussed on giving and receiving the best
kiss he could recall in a coon's age, Doggett leaned in and gave as good
as he got. Which was pretty much everything, and very nearly too much.
With a gasp, he pulled away. Air. His chest heaved in protest. His cock
ached in protest. His logical mind had given up protesting in the face
of such naked, furious lust.

"Shit..." he gasped out. He ran his tongue over wet lips and stared at
the face in front of him, studying it as if for the first time.

Dark eyes regarded him. "Okay?" That same damned question again.

"Maybe," he answered, hoarsely giving nothing away.

"Why'd you stop?" Skinner asked, running his hand up the side of
Doggett's face and into his savagely short hair.

Doggett arched his head into the caress. Why had he stopped? That was
the $64,000 question wasn't it? He hadn't stopped because everyone could
see. He hadn't stopped because it was wrong. Or even because this was
his superior. He smoothed the tee-shirt over Skinner's back, thinking.
He had to say something. The eyes with ridiculously long lashes gazed
back patiently. After sharing a kiss like that, the truth was the only
honourable thing he could offer. He leaned in. "Because if you'd kept
doin' that," he whispered close to Skinner's ear. "I'd have disgraced
myself in my jeans... Sir."

Laughter rumbled up out of Skinner's chest. He hugged Doggett tight
while he rocked, helplessly giving in to his mirth. Grinning at the
absurdity, Doggett clung on, squashing the mic between them. He idly
wondered what Mulder and the team made of the noise that was emerging
from the A.D. More comfortable minutes passed. Eventually, Skinner
calmed and pushed himself away. He gripped Doggett's biceps and looked
him up and down, eyes lingering on his crotch long enough to make
Doggett squirm slightly.

"What?" he whispered.

"Just looking," Skinner replied softly.

"Yeah, well..."

"I want..." It was Skinner's turn to hesitate. Doggett tilted his head
up to look into his face.

"What?"

Letting go of one arm, the A.D. put his hand between them, and laid it
over Doggett's crotch. Unable to help himself, Doggett jumped a little.
Skinner grinned at the reaction and spoke firmly. "I want..."

Doggett pulled a face and tapped his chest. Too loud. He jerked the
other man towards him again, trapping his hand. He put his lips to
Skinner's cheek. "Quietly," he told him, pausing to inhale the scent of
the skin under his lips. Shit, he was getting used to this in record time.

"I want to do something about this," Skinner said, gently squeezing
Doggett's package.

Doggett groaned and thrust forward. Fuck, the pressure was killing him.
His pushed his hips again. Screw the Bureau, screw the case, and screw
that he was straight. He wanted to do something about that dammed
handful, too. "Oh..." he said, dropping his head to Skinner's shoulder
again. He'd better quit that real soon.

The hand began a rhythmic motion. No... oh, shit, no. The friction was
exquisite. "Not now..." he gasped into Skinner's neck. "God, not now."
He could feel, rather than hear that laughter again. Bastard, he was
teasing. Doggett pulled away and glared.

Nodding, Skinner pulled his hand away, leaned forward and kissed him
lightly, in apology. Doggett accepted it, wondering if he falling down
the pink equivalent of a rabbit hole. Nothing to 100 miles an hour in
the space of a kiss. "Okay. Not now," Skinner whispered. "But soon."

Better be soon, Doggett thought, swallowing the tension. Or his balls
were going to explode. He rested his forehead to Skinner's, closing his
eyes. "Yeah."

"Promise," Skinner told him, rubbing his arms.

"I'm gonna shoot you if you're lyin' to me," Doggett replied, surprising
himself by meaning every damned word.

"Deal."

Doggett looked up. This was... Well, weird didn't even begin to come
close, any more. Here he was standing in a gay club, held tight in his
superior's arms, who happened to be another guy. And he wasn't screaming
to get away. He wasn't punching the guy out for having kissed him,
shit... He was even letting him do it again. Guess what? He was standing
slap-bang in the middle of a his own personal fucking X-File. Letter A,
for Amazing.

"Deal," he agreed. Then he angled his head and kissed Skinner. Not as
hard as he had been kissed, but not bad for a beginner, all the same.

"Federal Agent! Everyone stay where you are!" The voice cut between
Doggett and Skinner, slicing them apart like a couple of scalded cats.

"Fuck!" Doggett spun around, looking for the voice. The music died, the
lights came on, and Doggett could see the crowd parting over the other
side of the club as a swathe of black and gold FBI jackets moved in.

"Nobody move!" That was Mulder's voice. Doggett threw a glance over his
shoulder, but Skinner had melted into the crowd. He frowned. Was that a
sliver of disappointment? He shook his head. Get real, Marine, he told
himself, you really wanna get caught lockin' lips with the A.D.?

He grinned at himself, pleased to feel his familiar one-sided grin back.
At least that felt something like normal. He glanced down at his jeans.
No evidence there. The fright of hearing the words Federal Agent' had
scared his boner away quicker'n a cold shower. Mulder and the others
were cutting through the crowd, making their way over to where Doggett
stood.

Shit. What was going on? Had they overheard on the mic? Cold panic
threatened to roll Doggett's stomach.

"Agent Doggett!" Someone was calling his name. "Agent Doggett!"

"Over here," he replied, holding up a hand. His other hand quickly wiped
his mouth. He was being stupid. No-one could tell he'd been making out.
Not as if Skinner was wearing lipstick... Jesus.

"Agent Doggett." It was one of the new guys, on probation from Vice.
"It's all over. Case is closed." The young agent waved his hand behind
him. "We got him."

"Agent Bryant," Doggett scowled. "Keep details to a minimum in the
public domain."

The young man blushed. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Real Life was flooding back to him now. Her cleared his throat. No
problem. He looked around. "Where's the agent in charge?"

Bryant indicated behind. "Agent Scully's outside. She said to defer to
Agent Mulder."

"Okay." Wiping his hands down his jeans and fighting the urge to look
for Skinner, Doggett walked forward. "Let's go." The walk across the
dance floor was surreal. The men parted like extras from the Red Sea.
They all stared. Mr. Licky was staring at him with a very ill expression
on his face. Doggett took vicious pleasure in staring back and watching
the colour drain from his face. Try pinching my tits now, perv, he
thought. The huge guy in the leather was open-mouthed. Doggett nodded at
him, as he walked past, almost smiling when the giant stepped away. Not
such a tough guy.

Mulder was standing by the Emergency Exit, in conversation with a skinny
Drag-Queen. "You'd be willing to testify to that?" Mulder was saying.

"Uh-huh." The queen was staring up at Mulder in awe. Not quite drooling,
but near enough.

Doggett nodded at Mulder. "Agent." Mulder nodded back. "Take your
information to the guy over there, and he'll arrange for someone to take
your statement."

The guy's huge sparkly eyelashes fluttered. "Can't you do that?" he
simpered.

"No." Mulder smiled. "I'm far too important." He turned to Doggett as
the Drag Queen minced away. "Hey. Have any fun?"

Doggett stamped down on the rising annoyance. It was on the tip of his
tongue to tell Mulder exactly what kind of fun he'd had, but he just
shook his head. "You never give up, do you, Agent Muldah?"

Mulder grinned. "Better believe it, Agent Doggett." Bizarrely, a
sunflower seed flew into the air and into Mulder's mouth. "We got him."

"The killer?"

"No. Ronald McDonald." He rolled his eyes. "Of course the killer. Out
there."

Doggett didn't think Kersh would put up much of a fuss if he took out
Mulder's issue and just shot the joker in the head. It'd be doing
everyone a favour. "Show me." Moving past Mulder, Doggett pushed the bar
to the Exit and hit the night air with relief. It was cold enough to
raise goose bumps on his body, but glorious after the heat in the club.
Pulling the tails of his tee-shirt up with one hand, Doggett roughly
ripped the wire from his chest. He welcomed the sharp pain, glad to get
the instrusive thing off his body. Wordlessly, he handed it over to Mulder.

"Uh. Gee, thanks, Doggett," he said, taking the mic between two fingers.
There were a circle of officers and agents standing around in typical
post-case donut-and-coffee stance, talking, shooting the shit. "There,"
Mulder said from behind, pointing.

Sitting against the alley wall was a man clutching a pair of black jeans
and the remains of a white tee-shirt. Even from twenty feet away,
Doggett could see he was trembling fit to bust. He was holding a
Styrofoam cup in one hand, spilling most of it over the wreckage of his
clothes. Agent Scully was crouching in front of him. Doggett moved over
for a closer look. Scully looked up as he approached and nodded. Biting
back a comment, Doggett stared. The guy was him. Well, no. That was just
crazy. But it was a near thing. Real short hair, tee and jeans. Like
Mulder had said, skinny and mature'. Shit. A shiver ran through him.

"Are you alright, Agent Doggett?" Scully asked, standing with her hands
on her back.

He nodded, thinking: No. You must be joking. "Good job, Agent Scully."
He pointed at the intended victim. "Saved number four."

Scully nodded. "Yes. Just."

"You shoot the perp?" He needed to know. He hoped they had. Would have
been fine by him to blow the sick shit away, whoever it was. She
shrugged, moving side to let the paramedics see to the near victim on
the floor. As he stood up, Doggett could see the poor bastard had wet
himself. He looked away.

"Shoulder wound." She sounded as disappointed as he felt.

Mulder stood behind her. "Take a look, Agent Doggett. See if you saw him
in there."

He didn't want to. Shit, he really didn't want to look. He didn't want
to put a face to the activities he'd seen in those photographs. "Sure,"
he said. Because he was a good F.B.I. agent and that was what was
expected of him. He moved to the back of the meat-wagons, Mulder and
Scully following. The red flashing lights of the ambulances were bathing
everything with their bloody touch. It seemed apt, somehow. Fit the mood.

"Wait up, guys," Mulder called, halting the loading of the gurney.

The medics paused and reluctantly, Doggett moved to stand by the
stretcher. He had a sick feeling in his gut. There was no need for him
to look. He knew what he was going to see. Knowing his luck, knowing the
jokes that God sometimes liked to play. It was so obvious he felt a
bubble of laughter in his belly. The club soda murmured in his stomach.

Well, this was no great surprise. On the sheet, lay a hand with rings on
every finger. The lights bled scarlet on the gold. The hand looked
dipped in blood. Doggett could suddenly taste his evening meal.

"Yeah. I saw him." He didn't want to get any closer. He could still feel
the tickle of those fingers on his back, his ribs. Shivering, he turned.
"He was in there." Electricity surged up his arm as he was grabbed.
Jumping in fright out of all proportion to the threat from a man with a
bullet in him, Doggett tried to snatch his hand back. It stayed trapped
in the long fingers.

"Hello, handsome." The voice was still soft, still cultured. It made
Doggett's skin crawl.

"Don't," he said, pulling his hand.

"You have nice eyes."

Club soda and lasagna threatened to make an appearance on the floor at
his feet. He pulled a face, swallowing hard. "Shuddup, you freak." The
lights hid the blush on his face. He was grateful for that.

"I only took him because you wouldn't come, you know."

He could practically feel Mulder and Scully exchanging a look, behind
him. The rings were digging into his flesh. The perp was stronger than
he looked. Doggett didn't want to touch the hand, but he didn't want to
be held, more. He pulled at the fingers. "Let go." Panic and pasta,
rising. Not professional to blow chunks all over a prisoner.

"I would have been better for you. Better than that other one." Shit!
Oh, shit... not caring what it looked like to the other agents, Doggett
tore at the fingers, desperate to get away before anything else came out
of that putrid mouth.

"Agent Doggett?" Miles away, Scully was speaking to him. He clawed at
his hand, hurting himself but not caring. His ears were burning with
mortification.

"Did he make you hard?" The soft voice sounded as loud as a scream in
the blood-red night.

Doggett wanted to scream.

"You should have chosen me."

Enough. He would break every fucking one of these fingers if that was
what it took.


"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled.

"Hold me like you held him."

"Shut up!!"

"Let me kiss you like..." With a wrench and howl, Doggett pulled his
hand free and staggered away. He stumbled a couple of steps away, hands
over his ears, trying to block out anything else. Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Agent Doggett!" He heard that. Mulder shouting. He wasn't going to turn
round. No way. No fucking way. Breathe. Calm down.

"Agent Doggett." Scully touched his back.

Doggett jumped. Shit. He was a nervous as a... Shit. He was going to
think, as a virgin in a prison yard, but all things being equal, his
mind shied away from that particular analogy. His hands fell from his
head. They felt a bit stupid pinned up there, anyway. Looked as if he
was hiding his taxi-door ears, like some kid.

"Agent..." she paused. "John."

She'd never called him that before. Her hand was moving in little
circles on his back. He knew his tee-shirt was wringing wet, and it
probably felt horrible under her hand, but she was doing it anyway.
Trying to make him feel better. Doggett sighed and looked up. "I'm all
sweaty," he apologised.

"Doesn't matter." She stared at him. Her blue eyes were looking straight
at him, daring him to stare back. "Are you going to be okay?"

Not are you okay? She could probably guess he wasn't okay. He had to
give her points for that. He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah. I guess."

"Good."

They smiled a little at each other. He appreciated her blunt approach.
No B.S.

"If you need anything..."

He shrugged. "Nothin' a damn good shower and sleep won't put right,
Agent Scully." He gave her the Doggett-patent grin, hoping she'd believe
the lie. He didn't think he could go into any details right now.
Actually, most of the details about tonight, but that was another matter.

"Right." Scully waved over to Mulder. "Let's get you a ride home. You
can write up the report tomorrow and file it on Monday."

Mulder jogged over to them. "Yeah?"

"Agent Doggett needs a ride home. Can you grab one of the Bureau cars?"

Mulder looked from one to the other, the finer points of the evening
just oozing from his curiosity-bag. "Okay," he said, turning and
striding away, his compliance with Scully amazing Doggett.

He waved his hand after the retreating back. "How'd you do that, Agent
Scully?"

She just smiled one of those Scully-smiles and took her hand from the
small of his back. "Trade secret, Agent Doggett." They moved towards the
road. Both ambulances pulled away through the confusion.

"Thanks," he said, not elaborating.

Scully turned and nodded. "No problem." She glanced sideways. "Did you
spot your back up?"

Doggett's stomach dropped into a bucket of ice. "Back up?"

Scully smiled. "Our unofficial, undercover back up."

He had two, maybe three heartbeats to decide what to say. Yes, he saw
Skinner. Or no, he didn't see him. Even yes, I saw him and spoke to him.
There was even - yes, thank you, I saw him, and he dances like a champ,
and kisses even better. No maybe not. He'd hate to see her drop that kid
on the alley floor. Decision, decisions. They reached a car with its
door open. Mulder was giving the driver instructions.

"I saw him." He turned to look at his partner. Was it dark enough to
hide his taxi-doors turning red?

"Kind of hard to miss, isn't he?"

He grinned. "Kinda." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. He was
suddenly so tired he didn't know what to do with himself. It felt as if
someone had put him through an industrial wringer. A yawn took him by
surprise.

Scully chuckled. "Get some rest, Agent Doggett."

He nodded. "I intend to sleep for a week, Agent Scully."

She laughed. "So, I'll check up on you around lunchtime, then?"

He grinned. "That'd be good." He climbed into the back of the car and
sagged. Scully slammed the door, and the driver took off. Turning to
raise a hand, he watched the other two agents standing in the wet alley,
watching him leave. He wondered what they would say about tonight in
their reports. And what they would be saying to each other about it.
About him.

As the car sped through the night towards Falls Church, Doggett decided
he was just too damned tired to care much. Maybe he'd care again
tomorrow, maybe it wouldn't be so complicated after a good night's
sleep. Oh, yeah. And a shower.

The car pulling up woke him. Home. He peeled his damp shirt from the
leather seats with a face and climbed out. "Thanks," he said to the
driver, and reached for his key. God, he needed that shower.

The car sped off. Obviously just been on a training course about
defensive driving. Doggett smiled to himself, as the car took the corner
on two wheels. He turned and slipped the key in the door. Habit forced
him to scan the street before opening up.

There was a car on the verge across from his house. The detective in him
gave it the once-over. Make, model, registra.... Damn. He knew that car.
Knew who owned it. He narrowed his eyes and looked through the
windshield. The figure raised a hand. Skinner.

Swallowing, sudden nervousness chasing away tired thoughts, Doggett held
up a hand in return. He watched Skinner climb out of his car. This was
nuts. He was acting crazy. He ought to wash up, get into bed and go
straight to sleep. That's what he ought to do. He watched Skinner's
large body jogging across the road. Shit. What the hell. Maybe it'd be
kinda nice to have some company, for a change. His cock jumped in his
pants, remembering the kiss on the dance floor.

Skinner reached his front step. He hesitated, questioning. Doggett
pushed the door open wide. He was intrigued to find he didn't have a
problem with inviting this man into his house. "You comin' in?"

Skinner grinned. "Sure?"

"You bet." As he kicked the door shut behind them, Doggett brought his
hand up to the wide chest in front of him, while Skinner put his mouth
over his. He licked the warm lips, strangely satisfied to feel the mouth
open up to accept his tongue.

What d'you know? Seems you can teach an old dog new tricks. Wonders
would never cease. You'd be proud of me, Rudy, he thought, as he kissed
Skinner with enthusiasm. "What d'you want?" he asked, opening the
fridge. He peered in. If he remembered, there was a six-pack of Bud
stuffed in at the back.

"Whatever you got."

The reply made Doggett jump. Skinner was standing right behind him.
"Must you creep up, like that?" he grouched, smiling. "I still haven't
gotten over gettin' my ass grabbed all to hell and back."

Skinner laughed. "Occupational hazard of having a tight butt, Agent
Doggett," he said, patting said butt.

"Yeah, well. It's a bruised butt, tonight, thank you." He grabbed two
beers and slammed the fridge. "Here." He wandered through to the lounge.
"I need to sit down."

Skinner followed, swigging from the neck of his beer. "I thought your
ass was painful."

"Yeah, well. My feet feel worse." He threw himself down on the couch.
With a groan, he leaned forward and pulled at his laces.

"Here." Skinner kneeled down in front of him. "Let me."

Doggett frowned. "You don't have to do that."

Skinner put his beer down and pulled a foot into his lap. "I know."

"Really..." He reached for his foot, only to get his hand batted away.

"I know."

"You say that a lot."

Skinner looked up, a grin on his face. "Yeah. I kn..."

"Know?" Doggett finished for him, laughing. "You're nuts. You know
that?" The boot slid off and Doggett groaned, his head falling back.
"Oh, man. That is soooo good."

The other boot followed, and Doggett lay in utter bliss as his socked
feet were rubbed back to life. "Shit, you can do that forever."

"You'd get bored."

"I could keep you in the closet and drag you out to rub my feet every
day." The hands on his feet paused, and Doggett looked up.

"The closet?"

The two men stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, God... I'm sorry, Skinner," Doggett gasped. "I didn't mean that
like it sounded."

"I should hope not."

Doggett pulled his feet away from the hands and leaned forward. He
rested his chin on his knuckles and quietly regarded the man sitting
perfectly at ease on his lounge floor. "I had no idea," he said, when
he'd finished mapping every line on the other man's face.

Skinner tilted his head, blinking. "About what?"

Doggett shrugged. "You know."

"You mean about you? Or me?"

Pulling in a deep breath, Doggett let it out in a sigh. Talking about
'stuff' was always a bitch. That was half the reason he imagined men and
women clashed. Guys just didn't do the talking about 'stuff' thing. And
here they were. Two guys. Talking. Or at least trying to. He grunted.
"Take your pick. You?" He looked the A.D. up and down, smiling. "Most
definitely. And me?" He gave a rueful shake of the head. "I'm still not
sure."

A dry cough of laughter. "Oh, that's reassuring."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what I mean. I..." Doggett threw up a hand,
helplessly. "Look. Up until tonight, I'd never even..."

"I can imagine."

"Can you?"

Skinner nodded. "Ex-Marine, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"No 'buts'. I know."

Doggett's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "You're saying it again."

Skinner smiled back. "I know."

He looked different when he smiled. Younger. Relaxed. Almost... Could
you call another guy handsome, Doggett wondered? He put out a finger to
touch the A.D.'s cheek. The finger traced down to a cleft chin, then he
sighed and dropped his hand. Shit. He could feel his beard.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me that sigh was nothing." Skinner put his hand on Doggett's
knee. "I'm a trained F.B.I. Agent, you know."

Doggett grinned, despite himself. "I know," he replied.

Skinner smirked. "You're doing it, now."

Doggett snorted. "Seems I'm doing a whole bunch of things, now."

"That sounds like regret."

"No."

"Disgust, then?"

Doggett looked up. "God, no." That wasn't it. He wouldn't want Skinner
to think that.

"Then what?"

"How about... Confusion?" Doggett offered. That was as good a
description as any.

Skinner nodded. "I can deal with that." Getting up off the floor, he
moved to sit at the far end of the sofa.

Doggett smiled at that. "I won't scream rape, you know. I'm not that
confused." He patted the sofa.

Skinner grinned and moved up. "Promise?" he said

"Cross my heart." He leaned back.

Skinner studied his Bud label. The clock ticked in the kitchen. Both men
drank their beer.

"You think I'm gay?" Skinner said at last.

Doggett gagged on a swig of Bud. "What?" he choked out, wiping his chin
on his arm.

"You heard."

"Yeah, I heard." He frowned. "What kinda question's that?" Jesus!

Skinner shrugged, looking into the dumb television. "Clear enough, isn't
it?"

Doggett sucked the foam from his forearm. Fuck. What the hell was he
supposed to say to that? Yeah, Boss, I think you're a screaming faggot?
He wouldn't be saying that to the larger man in this lifetime. "God,
Skinner. Whadd'ya want me to say?"

"Well, are you gay?"

"Jesus Christ, man!" Doggett sat forward again, his beer forgotten.

Turning in his seat, Skinner rested his arm on the back of the sofa and
smiled. "The point I'm trying to make, Agent Doggett. Is that I don't
care what you think I am." He touched the back of Doggett's neck. "And I
couldn't give a flying fuck about what you think you are, either. I've
been married." He shrugged at the surprised face Doggett tried to cover.
"I don't know if the way I am contributed to the end of it, but for most
of the 17 years, it was a good marriage."

Doggett nodded. He could understand and empathise with that. His own
marriage had been good, for all but the last bit.

"What I'm trying to say... Is that I think I'm old enough, and ugly
enough to be secure in whatever sexuality I care to choose. Therefore I
shall do what I like, whenever I like, with whomever I like. And,
strangely enough, I like you, John Doggett."

He didn't look drunk, Doggett thought. And he didn't think he was on
drugs. Ma Doggett's oldest boy wouldn't be winning any beauty contests
soon. If Skinner thought he was anything special, he must be crazy. Only
a mother could love a face like this. "You're crazy, you know," he said,
shaking his head.

"More than likely."

The hand on Doggett's neck began to stroke sensuously through his short
hair. "You say that like you don't care."

Another shrug. "I don't."

"You're tickling me." Doggett told him, squirming his shoulders.

"Tough."

Doggett stared. Skinner just stared back. As he watched, Skinner's
tongue came out and ran over his bottom lip, hypnotizing Doggett. What
had happened, that he couldn't take his eyes off this man? Did touching
him qualify to drag his common sense out and stomp it to death? "How
bout you should stop," he suggested helplessly, wondering where he was
going with this.

The fingers carried on tickling his hair. "You could try and make me."

A shiver of apprehension ran through Doggett's belly. Ladies and
Gentlemen! Here we have it: The Line. The Line will define the rest of
his evening, and quite possibly, his life. Stay on this side of it, and
they will both drink their beer, until Skinner leaves to go home, no
lasting harm done. Cross The Line, and the evening goes someplace he'd
never even dreamed of, and he would spend the rest of his life wondering
if the whole thing could be excused by alcohol. The Line lay just to
Doggett's left, draped across the sofa between the two of them.. His
eyes flicked down, half expecting to see a length of yellow and black
warning tape lying next to him.

He looked up at Skinner. There was nothing on the other man's face to
indicate what was going on inside his head. He wasn't naive enough to
miss the fact that Skinner was handing the decision over to him. His
choice. It was all up to him.

At his nape, the stroking in the bristly hair had become unbearable. All
his nerves seemed to have run to that one spot, to bask in the
attention. He leaned his head back. Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight has
been brought to you by the letter O, for... Okay.

Wedging his beer down the side of the cushion, Doggett reached across
with a hand cold and damp from the bottle, to cup the side of Skinner's
face. "Maybe I don't want to stop you," he said, closing the last few
inches between them, to put his lips to Skinner's. Doggett felt the word
'Good', echo in his mouth as he leaned in. He didn't intend to give
Skinner the opportunity to say anything else. Line crossed, Ladies and
Gentlemen, he told himself, working his tongue between Skinner's lips in
a slow, sensual slide that jolted him all the way to his toes. Well and
fucking truly crossed. Doggett kissed him for a long time. Getting to
know the taste. Learning this other mouth.

In time, his other hand came up to join the fun, exploring Skinner's
side and back. And Skinner, in turn, used his free hand to slide up and
down Doggett's thigh. Finally licking his way out of the embrace,
Doggett took a in shaky breath. Skinner did this kissing shit far too
well. He was getting hot and bothered again. "I need a shower," he said.

The A.D. smiled. "Join you?"

"I could live with that." Doggett stood and held out a hand.

Throwing an extra towel over the warm rail, Doggett reached in and
adjusted the faucet. Yep. Hot enough. He peeled the tee-shirt over his
head, grimacing at its smoky smell and general dampness. Definitely
dead. He threw it into the open hamper. He looked down at his chest. The
tape had left a red mark down his sternum. He poked it. Damn stuff.
You'd think with all the advances in technology, the F.B.I. could come
up with something that didn't take off half your Goddamned flesh.

"What's so fascinating?" Skinner came round the door.

"Fuckin' tape." Doggett turned to show him the mark. "Itches like hell."

Skinner pushed his hand away and looked.. "You big wuss," he said,
running a finger over the redness. "There's hardly anything there."

Doggett frowned. "Hey! It hurts!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"It does!" Doggett didn't want to think he was whining, but he wasn't sure.

"Poor baby!" Ducking his head down, Skinner placed a kiss on the
offending spot.

Air whistled through Doggett's teeth. Shit.

Skinner glanced up at him. "That hurt?" he asked.

Doggett shook his head. It hadn't hurt. Quite the opposite. He tried to
remember to breathe. "I...er." Shit. He couldn't even breathe properly,
let alone talk.

Skinner cocked his head on one side as he looked at him. "You having a
change of heart?"

Doggett sighed and sat on the toilet seat. Rubbing his forehead with his
hand, he shook it slowly. "No. Not at all." He looked up to the dark
eyes. No. It wasn't that he was changing his mind. His old mind was way
back on the floor of a sweaty nightclub. This mind was brand-new and
fresh. Positively virginal, in fact. That was the stumbling-block.

"Then why have you gone..." Skinner waved a hand at him.

Doggett chuckled. "All girlie?"

He got a snort in reply. "I wouldn't have put it quite in those terms."
The big man leaned back on the wall and folded his arms. "But something
like that, maybe."

Holding his hands out in front of him, Doggett checked to see how steady
they were. Rock-solid, he was pleased to note. "It's just that I..." He
stayed staring at the hands, not wanting to look at the other man for a
moment. "I think you know, I never..." God. This was so embarrassing.

Skinner moved to squat in front of him. He placed his hands on the
splayed knees, forcing Doggett to look at him. "Trained F.B.I.,
remember?" The knees were squeezed. "We'd be on the bathroom floor by
now, if I thought you'd ever done this before."

Doggett grinned. "Think you're that good, huh?"

"Dunno. You'll have to let me know."

The teasing words sparked something deep inside Doggett. Not quite
panic, but standing very close to it, disguised as excitement. He put a
nervous hand over Skinner's. "You still wanna...?"

"I want to - if you want to."

"I... think so."

Skinner huffed. "Flatterer."

"Gimme a break, here. I've never even danced with another guy, let
alone..." He indicated Skinner's mouth. "It's all kinda new, y'know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A big hand came up to caress Doggett's face. He leaned into it and
closed his eyes. I could get used to this attention, he thought. He
turned and placed a kiss in the palm, because a hundred years ago, his
wife had told him she liked it.

"So..." Skinner leaned forward and nuzzled Doggett's cheek. "You've
never kissed another man?"

"Well..." Blood and dust on Rudy's lips. "Not exactly." He opened his
eyes to clear the rubble away. Didn't want to remember that, now.

Skinner grinned. "Not exactly? What does that mean?"

Doggett shook his head, not returning the smile. "Not right now." He ran
a hand through his spiky hair. "Don't wanna ruin the mood."

Skinner barked. "What? This mood?"

That got a chuckle. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry." He ran his fingers down
Skinner's face in apology. "Tell you another time, okay?"

A shrug. "Okay." As if dismissing the whole thing, Skinner gave him a
quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's hit that shower, Marine. Before all the
hot water pisses away." Skinner stood and stripped his tee-shirt off in
one smooth movement, dropping it to the floor. He started on his belt
with Doggett helplessly staring from the toilet seat. Eyes stapled to
the huge, hairy chest, Doggett wondered how the hell the man had managed
to pull off any wire-taps without screaming. He also offered up a small
apology to Mulder, he could understand him having noticed this body,
now. The acres of muscle and bone were kinda hard to avoid staring at.
He suddenly felt very skinny indeed. "That's a 'yes', then?" Skinner
asked, pausing on his zipper, lifting an eyebrow at the scrutiny.

A tiny blush coloured Doggett's face. He stood up, hoping Skinner
wouldn't notice. "Yeah. Let's get cleaned up." He reached for his own pants.

Actually, considering he hadn't done this with anyone since his divorce,
Doggett thought he remembered how to share very well. His stall was just
big enough to accommodate the two of them, if they stood close together,
that was. Doggett grinned into the spray. Not that that was any
hardship. Having a hot wet body pressed up against his back was erotic,
bordering on the exquisite. He leaned his head back on to Skinner's
shoulders, as the other man soaped his chest and belly for him. Silken
hands glided from his underarms to his hips, stroking deliciously, but
never once dipping lower. And to Doggett's satisfaction, his dick had
woken back up and was straining to see what was going on. The hot water
massaged it pleasantly.

"Good?" The deep voice rumbled in his ear.

Doggett grunted, too blissed out to speak. The chest behind him rumbled
in laughter. A hand tweaked a nipple, gently. "Thank you," Doggett
muttered, the memory of the club rushing in.

"What for?"

He snorted. "Not hurting me."

The soapy hand stroked his chest. "I wouldn't do that."

Shit. What did he mean by that, Doggett wondered? Pushing himself away,
he turned round and looked at the other man. Water ran in rivulets off
the bald skull, dripping off the curiously flat nose. The dark eyes
regarded him solemnly. The bigger man hadn't touched him in an overtly
sexual manner, at any time. He'd washed Doggett's body and hair with
studied matter-of-factness. No groping, grabbing or indeed anything
which might startle or bother him. Not quite what Doggett had been
expecting, but very comforting all the same. Not that he thought that
Skinner would slam him up against the shower wall, and butt-fuck him til
he screamed. Well... Not really, anyway. Well, okay, one nasty image
from a vice-squad video tape had flickered briefly through his mind, but
only for a fraction of a second. He'd never have invited Skinner into
his house, if he'd taken that thought seriously.

But it was nice to get confirmation, all the same. This was a good man.
His guts had hinted at it, and the way Skinner conducted himself had
re-enforced it. Doggett nodded. Okay. His eyes travelled down the wet
statue in front of him. The body hair flattened by the water looked
darker, the skin glistening a gold sheen. He looked good, Doggett had to
admit that much. Straight or not, he had to admit the man was buff. In
amazing shape for... Well, shit. However old he was, he was in great shape.

Doggett put his hand out and laid it on the wet chest. Another First.
Never touched a guy like this. Not with anything like this intent,
anyway. He rubbed the skin, marvelling at the feel of the hard muscle
under his hand. He could feel the nub of a nipple under his palm.

Skinner breathed deeply, not moving an inch. Letting Doggett roam free.
His dark eyes slid shut. Relishing the chance to explore, Doggett
reached for a handful of liquid soap and rubbed his hands together
putting them to Skinner's shoulders. The soap made his hands slide
easily over the golden skin. Nice. He was kinda surprised to realise how
nice it did feel. He soaped the chest, watching the hairs perk up under
the bubbles. Impulsively, he leaned forward and touched his own chest to
Skinner's. He rubbed it back and forth. This was a most unusual
sensation. Guy hair. It was all crinkly on his smooth chest. Another
First. He did it some more, grinning. It tickled.

"Having fun?" Skinner asked dryly, cracking open his eyes.

Doggett laughed. "Yeah. That okay?"

Skinner's arms came out to either side. "Be my guest," he said.

Taking the man at his word, Doggett helped himself to more soap and
began to work a lather up on the rest of the body. Different from a soft
woman's body. He didn't feel he had to be so gentle. This body never
shifted as he massaged his hands deep into muscle. As his hands got to
waist-level, he glanced down. A sizeable boner was bobbing up between
them. Actually, it was more like one and a half boners, as his own dick
was seriously putting in an appearance. Water dripped in slow-motion
from the end of Doggett's nose and on to Skinner's cock. The sight
flared inside Doggett's belly, the urgency of the heat taking him by
surprise. Shit. He stared, fascinated by water rolling off hard flesh.

"You could always take a picture," suggested Skinner.

Doggett laughed, slightly abashed at having been caught staring, there
was a quick moment of having breached locker-room etiquette, but he
squashed it down. He was allowed to look at this man's body. Shit, he
was supposed to look. "Yeah. I could always get one framed up for my desk."

"Have to be a real big frame," Skinner dead panned.

"Show off." Doggett chuckled. "Can you imagine the reaction at the Bureau?"

Skinner grinned. "Agent Scully would probably deliver early."

"Got rather a high opinion of yourself, haven't you?"

Shrugging, Skinner grinned. "Hey - what can I say? I'm a guy."

Yeah, thought Doggett. I kinda noticed that. His eyes dropped down
between them again. Skinner's high opinion stared right back. He watched
his left hand come up of its own accord and he wondered why. The opinion
bobbed as Skinner shifted his weight and Doggett flicked his eyes back
up. He wanted to ask a question, but the words were wedged in his
throat, stuck behind his masculine pride.

Skinner nodded. He obviously understood the strangled expression.
"You're allowed to touch."

Glancing down, Doggett was surprised to see his hand already on the
move. His body seemed to be 2 steps ahead of his brain tonight.
Twitching, his cock agreed. The soapy hand glided over hard flesh to the
sound of his mind notching up yet another mark on the world's weirdest
scoresheet. First Time he'd touched another man's dick. How bout that?
These damned Firsts were coming thick and fast. The unintentional pun
made him smile.

"Something funny, down there?"

Doggett looked up, still gripping his handful. "Just thinkin'," he said.

Grunting at the pressure Doggett was exerting, Skinner raised an
eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That this is nice." Doggett shrugged and squeezed some more. "Seriously
fuckin' weird. But nice, all the same."

"Glad you approve, Agent Doggett." His hands came up to hold on to
Doggett's biceps. "But if we don't get out of this shower soon, you're
gonna have to wait a while for any further approval."

"Okay, you're the Boss." Unable to resist sliding his hand a couple of
times more before letting go, Doggett laughed at Skinner's pained
expression. He took pity on the man and let go, reaching behind to turn
off the shower.

Skinner flung the curtain back, quickly stepped out, and reached for the
towel rail. He grabbed the nearest one, wrapped it around his fist and
glared at Doggett. "Want to try that again, Agent?" he asked, snapping
the towel back and forth, threateningly.

Doggett grinned, not in the least bit intimidated. "Sure."

Dropping the threat, Skinner nodded. "Good. Then get out of there and do
it properly, soldier."

He threw the towel at Doggett and snagged himself another, draping it
around his shoulders and walking purposefully out of the bathroom. The
thought of where he was headed made Doggett go hot and swallow quickly.
He rubbed his head briskly, thanking the barber for the time-saving
haircut, and hurried to follow Skinner. He found Skinner standing
perfectly still in the middle of his bedroom, the light from the hallway
seeking out and highlighting all his muscles. Doggett wondered if he was
standing there to get that very effect, or if he just hadn't liked to
help himself to the lights. Whatever - it was real easy on the eyes.

"Nice room," the man said, dropping the towel on a chair.

"Yeah." Doggett walked in, admiring the view. His threw his own towel on
top of Skinner's. "I'd give you the number of my interior decorator, but
she don't speak to me any more."

Skinner lifted his chin in understanding. "Ah."

Standing there, just looking at one another, Doggett was very aware of
his nerves. Bad enough that it was depressingly seldom he had any other
person in this room since his divorce, but that situation was compounded
by the fact that this particular person, was usually behind a large desk
whenever they spoke. And absolutely not butt naked. "I...um..." He
raised his hands, tried putting them in non-existent pockets, on his
hips, and finally folded them over his chest. Shit. His dick hung down,
bored with waiting. Oh great, he thought, rolling his eyes.

"Gone shy?" Skinner's voice was soft and teasing.

"Gone 'something'," Doggett sighed.

Skinner held out a hand. "It's chilly. Come here."

Relieved to have the burden of decision taken from him, Doggett
complied. He took those last few steps over to the man standing in front
of his bed and large arms went around him, skin still slightly damp from
the shower. He was right. It wasn't as warm in here. Doggett shivered
and the embrace tightened.

"Better?" Skinner asked.

"Hmmmmm." Doggett hooked his chin up on to the bare shoulder and nodded.
Much better. They stood, savouring the moment, Skinner rubbing his hand
up and down Doggett's back, until the other man relaxed enough to return
the gesture. "Nice," Doggett murmured.

"Yeah." More rubbing.

Basking in the physical contact, Doggett idly wondered if it would be
out of place for him to ask for another kiss. He was stunned at the way
he was fast becoming addicted to the bigger man's technique. Never would
have thought to look at him in the office, that beneath all that prim
and proper exterior, Skinner kissed like... Shit. Like a 'pro'? Nah. Too
cold. Like a whore? Uh-uh. Too cheap. Oh, yeah. Doggett grinned as a
tiny snatch of music ran through his head. Yeah. Kissed like... A horny
angel. Oh, yeah... He breathed in the scent of Skinner's warm skin. Fuck
out of place. He lifted his head off the shoulder and looked Skinner
straight in the eye.

"Yeah?" Skinner studied his face.

"Can I get a kiss?" Doggett asked softly, still a touch nervous, despite
his internal bravado.

Skinner grinned. "Sure," he said, ducking that tiny bit to oblige.

Oh, man. The deep breath served him well. Shit. Who taught him to kiss
like this? Doggett wondered, desperately trying to keep up. Hairy, horny
fuckin' angel... And wouldn't you know? His dick perked up, anxious to
join in the action. The kiss gravitated down Doggett's face, and along
his jaw-line, disappearing down one side of his neck. He chuckled,
lifting a shoulder.

"You really are a tickle-bunny, aren't you?" Skinner grinned up from
somewhere near a collar bone.

"What can y'do?" Doggett said, shrugging. It was sometimes a problem.

Skinner looked at him. "What can I do?" he said, running his hand along
Doggett's face, making him shiver for another reason. He lifted an
eyebrow and leaned in to whisper softly in one of the curled over ears.
"Lots of things," he breathed.

Fuck. Doggett's body burst out in a riot of goose bumps, draggin his
erection up by the throat. Threat, or promise? He couldn't decide which
and that thought excited him. How fucked up was that? Skinner dragged
his lips across Doggett's face and kissed him again, finally unlocking
both Doggett's knees and passion. Grasping the back of Skinner's neck,
Doggett bit down into the kiss with all the pent-up lust from the entire
evening, and probably the last couple of years. Straining his neck
muscles, he pushed his tongue deep into the other mouth, stroking and
suckling into the wet embrace. Skinner's spit tasted of beer and
ridiculously, an echo of aftershave. The strangeness of it roared
through Doggettt's body, straight to his cock. He scraped his chest
across Skinner's, the hairs igniting his nipples, following that trail
down to his groin in a delicious wave. He dick was throbbing time with
his heartbeat, a crazy thrashing thing in his chest.

Skinner sucked his tongue, the rough surface rasping the underside of
his own, in a manner that brought moisture bleeding to the tip of his
cock. Desperate little noises of excitement leaked out of his throat,
swallowed down into Skinner's mouth. Fuck! He scrabbled harder for
purchase on Skinner's body, his cock now straining as hard as the rest
of him, for release.

Skinner broke the kiss, gasping and laughing. "Easy!" he coughed out,
holding Doggett by the arms. "Jesus, Doggett." He stared at Doggett's
panting face. "You really woke the beast, there, didn't you?"

Doggett just looked at him, chest heaving, brain somewhere between his
legs, fuck-stupid.

"Easy," Skinner said again. "We've got all night." He ducked his head to
plant a quick kiss on a wet, open mouth. "Slow down." He pushed gently
on Doggett's arms, knocking his knees against the edge of the bed, and
depositing him on the quilt. "Sit."

Eye-level with Skinner's dick, Doggett stared, the haze clearing.
Nothing like a one-eyed trouser-snake lookin' you in the face to bring
you back to the Real World, he thought, blinking. The bed dipped as
Skinner sat beside him.

"Here..." A hand pulled him backwards to lie down. "Lie down. Get your
breath back."

Doggett allowed himself to be pushed, flopping back and levering his
legs up. Shit. He'd nearly lost it, there. He sneaked a glance at the
man sitting next to him. Skinner was looking down at him with an amused
expression on his face. One hand rested lightly on Doggett's shoulder.

"Better?" he asked.

"Was better before," Doggett told him truthfully.

"Yeah, but would've been over pretty quick at that rate."

Doggett gave a chuckle. "Yeah. Probably." Had been good, though.

Skinner shifted to bring his legs up to lie propped up beside him.
"Besides. I'd rather take my time," he said, running his hand all the
way from Doggett's shoulder to groin in a languid sweep.

Shit.

Doggett pushed his hips up to meet it, making Skinner laugh. "You are
eager, aren't you?"

"It's been a while," he told him, wondering if painful honesty was a
normal side-effect of allowing another man to put his hands on him.
Skinner nodded, not saying anything. He stroked again, avoiding
Doggett's groin, this time. The tease made him grin. "Bastard," he said,
softly.

"Get over it," Skinner replied, kissing the creased forehead.

Seizing the opportunity to extract revenge, Doggett grinned and ran a
hand over the A.D.'s head. "Always wanted to do that," he laughed.

"You and the entire western world," Skinner complained, rubbing a grumpy
hand over his own head. "What is it about 'bald'? Everybody wants to touch."

Doggett chuckled. "Dunno. Maybe it's cause it's so damned masculine."

Skinner looked dubious. "You think?"

"How many bald women d'you know?"

"I see your point."

He couldn't resist the pun. "That's cause I'm butt naked, sir."

That brought the grin back to Skinner's face. "Oh, yeah." A warm hand
ran down his body from collar-bone to groin, again. "So you are, Agent
Doggett."

Goose bumps prickled a trail behind the hand as it brushed lightly.
Fuck, Doggett didn't know whether that tickled or turned him on. Okay,
so if his boner was any indication, it was a turn-on. But still... That
hand. He squirmed. "Tickling," he said.

"Really?"

Doggett didn't like the look in the A.D.'s eye. Maybe it wasn't such a
good idea to let on about that. "Yeah. Gimme a break." He stopped the
wandering hand as it fluttered over his belly. "It's fuckin' torture
when you touch me like that."

"You want I should be firmer with you?"

Anything but the tickling. He let go of Skinner's hand. "Yeah." With
distressing ease, Doggett suddenly found himself grabbed by hip and
shoulder and flipped on his stomach. "What the..?"

"Be still," Skinner whispered, just as suddenly all over him, spreading
himself across his back like a second, hairy skin. Hands pressed into
his skin, hard enough to move the flesh.

"Shit..." Doggett gasped. This was... He strained up, with absolutely no
effect. This was... Not good. He'd never been held like this, naked
under someone else. He felt... He frowned. Disempowered, almost
helpless. He heaved again. Fuck that. Not almost, he was fuckin'
helpless. A sick feeling surged up, bringing quick, sharp pictures from
a thousand crime-scene photographs with it. The hands were everywhere.
He wouldn't... no, surely he wouldn't? He felt a strong, hairy leg force
its way between his, and Doggett began to struggle in earnest, panicking.

The hands stopped. "Hey!" Skinner shook his shoulder. "Hey... Relax."

Breathe! Doggett told himself, biting down on a yell. Above him, he was
vaguely aware of a head dipping down to kiss the side of his neck. He
turned his head towards it, breathing raggedly.

"Hey. I'm not gonna hurt you." Another kiss.

Doggett concentrated on his breathing, controlling it, calming himself.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think." Skinner stroked a hand over the heaving
shoulders, as if soothing a frightened horse. "I forgot..."

"Yeah?" Embarrassed now, at his reaction, Doggett cleared his throat and
licked his dry lips.

"Yeah." The head came down again and gently kissed the side of his
mouth. "Forgive me?"

Way to go, doofus, Doggett thought, cringing. Make the guy feel like an
animal because you've never been in bed with anyone stronger than
yourself. Nice goin'. He cleared his throat. "Sure. No problem." He
turned a touch more to return the kiss. "It's just..." He shrugged. "You
know."

The dark eyes regarded him. "I know," he said

"Yeah." Maybe he did. You never knew, maybe the A.D. had been here,
once. Shit, everyone had to have a 'first time'.

"So we're okay?" The tone of Skinner's voice killed the last of his
panic. The guy was worried.

The idea of that pleased him in a way he couldn't have foreseen. Doggett
smiled. "Sure." The smile went wonky, pulling wickedly up to one side.
"If you're gonna offer a make-up kiss."

The relief was touchingly evident in Skinner's expression, despite his
light words. "Why, I think I can just about force myself to oblige you,
in that department." Leaning over, he applied himself diligently to
Doggett's mouth.

Almost worth the scare, Doggett thought, with a corner of his mind that
wasn't making the most of the apology. He opened his mouth wider, trying
not to broadcast his pleasure by groaning. Fuck. This bastard knew how
to do this right.

Draped over Doggett like an electric blanket, Skinner pulled his mouth
away, sighed and chuckled. "You do that very well," he said, running his
hand over a smooth shoulder.

"I was just thinkin' the very same thing, Mr. Skinner."

They lay quietly for a moment, content to stroke and be stroked. Doggett
wondered if Skinner was allowing him to pull himself back together
again. That was a pretty astute move, if he was. He needed a moment. No
great surprise, his boner had gone AWOL when he'd started to flip out.

Skinner kissed his shoulder. "Cute freckles," he muttered.

Doggett turned his head and glared. "I am not 'cute'," he growled.

Skinner chuckled. "I'd beg to differ with you on that, Agent Doggett."

Still glaring, Doggett shook his head. "Not cute. No way." Not in a
million fuckin' years. What was this guy on? "Since we're having our
first disagreement, d'you think you could quit callin' me 'Agent
Doggett'? Makes me nervous, you know?"

Skinner propped himself up on one arm, his face amused. "And me lying
naked on top of you, doesn't?"

"No. Strange as that may be. But being called 'Agent' while you doin' it
is more than a little freaky." Doggett wriggled an arm free and knocked
a knuckle lightly on the A.D.'s forehead. "So quit it, okay?"

His hand was grabbed. "Okay. But no more of that 'Boss' stuff, from you,
either." He shook the hand in his. "Deal?"

"Pullin' rank, Sir?" Doggett grinned wickedly.

"Works every time, Agent Doggett."

"Yeah? Well you can just kiss my ass!" he laughed, then abruptly snapped
his mouth shut when he realised what he'd just said. The lack of
lighting hid the furious blush that roared across his face.

"Why, Agent Doggett," Skinner laughed. "On a first date?"

Shit! What a dumbass thing to go and say! Doggett could feel the heat
form his face radiating onto his arm. "Screw you, Skinner," he muttered,
mortified.

Skinner roared with laughter. "Oh, this just gets better and better,
doesn't it?"

Doggett groaned, giving up all pretence of control and buried his
burning face in the bed covers. Tonight's faux pas brought to you by the
letter M, for Moron. His body shook with Skinner's loud amusement. Oh,
this was just peachy. The laughter eventually died away to occasional
chuckles. Then it went quiet. His head still firmly pressed into the
bed, Doggett waited to see what would happen next. If he was lucky,
Skinner'd fall asleep and he'd slink off to spend the night on the couch.

A hand brushed across his shoulder. "You still in there?" Doggett
ignored him. "Hey?" He could feel a hand on the back of his head. He
wasn't sulking. Not really. "Hello..." Skinner's mouth was very close.
The words ruffled the stubby hair. "John?"

First time he's called me by my given name, Doggett thought. No wait. He
did it at the club. Just before he took me dancing.

"John." Not a question, this time. More a thinly veiled order.

"What?" he muttered into the sheets, replying out of habit.

"Cut yourself a break." Soft kisses touched his skin. Across his
shoulders and moving down his spine. Doggett shivered. Skinner shifted,
and the kisses reached the small of his back, and then with a sudden
rush of surprise, one landed on his butt-cheek. Shit. Doggett's head
came up. He craned his neck to look behind.

"Thought that'd get your attention." Skinner grinned.

"Bastard," Doggett told him, a faint smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah." He dipped down and kissed the other cheek, making Doggett
clench and laugh.

"Quit it!"

There was a gleam in Skinner's eye. "You sure?"

Oh, boy. These deciding moments just kept comin' and comin'. Doggett
swallowed. He wondered if the lump he'd just forced down was what was
left of his masculine pride. "No," he said, very quietly. "I'm not."

Skinner's warm hand wandered down to his hip. "I'm glad," he said, and
began to pull Doggett over on to his side. Silently, he began to kiss
down Doggett's ribcage, to where his hand cupped his pelvis, and
staring, Doggett wondered with half his mind, whether he had gone
totally fucking insane. "Lie flat," Skinner whispered, pushing him into
the mattress. He smiled up at Doggett, stroking thumbs over his hips.
"And try to relax."

Giving a grunt of derision, Doggett sighed and reached above his head to
snag a pillow. Shit, if he had gone insane, then he might as well be
comfortable in his certification. He stuffed the pillow under his head
and flopped his arms back to his side. "Relaxed," he told Skinner, lying
through his teeth.

The other man chuckled and shook his head, obviously not fooled for a
second. And then he took the last of Doggett's sanity by bending his
head and licking up the side of his groin.

"Fuck!"

Skinner looked up. "In good time," he laughed, making Doggett grimace.

Doggett muttered, squirming. "Jesus, Skinner."

There was a moment of anticipation when he had a chance to brace
himself, before Skinner ducked down and did it again. This time, he just
bit his lip and watched. At some point during the proceedings, Doggett
understood how Skinner had risen to the ranks of A.D. He was thorough,
methodical and utterly focussed. In the space of around fifteen minutes,
he licked, kissed and nibbled just about every inch of Doggett's legs,
belly and chest, gathering up what was left of Doggett's tattered
self-control and chucking it into a corner of the room. All the while,
studiously ignoring his erection, which was straining at the leash with
neglect.

The moisture on his skin from Skinner's mouth was bobbing it up in
patches of goose bumps, which in turn, were soothed back down by long
strokes of a hand. The combination of gentle touches from Skinner's
lips, and the burn of beard on his skin was distracting, distressing and
utterly delightful.

"Shit," Doggett hissed, his hips lifting involuntarily as Skinner
skimmed by his dick again. His balls were going to explode with
frustration any second now. "Bastard," he told the man settled between
his legs.

Skinner merely looked up at him. "Smile, when you call me that," he grinned.

Doggett grunted at him, with a creased-up face. He was doing that thumb
thing on the delicate skin next to his hips, and it was teetering on the
border of agony and ecstasy. Any second now, he was going to have to
scream and push Skinner off. He took his lip between his teeth and began
to count down from one hundred in his head. He had been a Marine, for
Chrissake. He could fight this insane urge to howl.

And then Skinner grabbed his dick hard, and in one silken, sensuous
sweep, dragged his tongue up, and swallowed it down. The yell ripped out
of Doggett's throat, yanking his head off the pillow, and straightening
his legs as if shot. "Fuck!!"

Gripping the base tight in fingers of steel, Skinner stopped Doggett
from coming there and then by a hair's breath. "Oh, shit, shit shit..."
Doggett panted. The act of looking down at what was going on between his
legs was very nearly undoing him. "Oh, God..." Slowly, he watched
himself fall out of a grinning mouth. The sight made his belly clench
with lust, and his nerves screamed both approval and frustration. There
was a freakin' riot going on in his groin.

"Good?" Skinner asked him, rather smugly.

Nodding was all he was gonna get right now, Doggett thought, his breath
charging in and out of an extremely tight chest. He idly wondered what
Skinner would have done, if the shock had brought on a coronary.

"Oh, good," Skinner said, satisfied, and gave Doggett another suck,
bringing slender hips off the bed in a spasmodic jerk.

"Jesus!"

Up and down, pause at the tip, then sliding down...It had been a long
time since anyone had done this to him, but his body remembered.
Recalled and relished. And it didn't care in the least that for the
first time, it wasn't a Sue, a Carolyn or even an Anna lying with their
head between his legs. His hips jerked in approval, once, twice...

"I'm gonna..." he gasped, feeling the familiar build-up to the moment
that common courtesy dictated, he should issue warning to his bed- partner.

"No, you're not," Skinner assured him, squeezing down hard again.

The sensation faded. "Shit." Propping himself up on one elbow, Skinner
watched frustration and relief jostling for position on the angular
face. "What're you tryin' to do to me?" Doggett croaked out, eventually.

The other man chuckled. "Drive you crazy," he said.

Doggett nudged him with a knee. "Mission accomplished, you bastard."
Skinner blew cool air over his dick, making it twitch. "Fuck, Skinner,"
Doggett groaned.

"Maybe... one day," he said, enigmatically, stroking the inside of a
trembling thigh. "But not tonight."

"What?!" Doggett snatched his body up on his elbows, not believing what
he'd just heard. Skinner just carried right on petting, oblivious to the
look on Doogett's face. "You can't..." The phrase, 'leave me like this'
perched itself on the tip of Doggett's tongue. He swallowed. "You just
can't stop," he said, hoping it hadn't come out as a whine. "I've got a
gun, Skinner. I promise you I'll fuckin' use it."

Skinner grinned at him. "Oh, I don't intend to stop," he said, kissing
the end of Doggett's dick, momentarily distracting the other man.

"Then..." Doggett swallowed around a dry throat. "Then what?"

Skinner's hand went underneath his knee and pushed it up, bending it.
"You'll see."

Never mind two steps behind his body, his mind was practically in the
next fuckin' state. What the hell was going on now? He didn't like not
knowing. Actually, knowing was sometimes a bit tricky, too, but he
thought, on balance, not knowing was worse. In his mind, he'd studiously
stuffed the mental pictures of what vice-squad tapes told him men did to
each other in bed, behind a wall. But they had popped out every now and
again during the evening, just to wave and remind him of some basic
facts. To remind and worry him a little. "Skinner..." he began.

"You think we could move on to first-name terms, now..." Skinner looked
pointedly at Doggett's crotch. "Considering?"

Sighing, Doggett rolled his eyes. "Okay... Walter. Mind tellin' me
what's the plan?" He nodded down at his wet dick. "Bein' as I'm kinda
involved?"

Skinner scraped his nails gently down the back of Doggett's thigh,
making him hiss. "Houston, we have a problem," he said, with a little
grin. Doggett shook his head. He was lying in bed with a lunatic. "Thing
is, John," Skinner said, never pausing in is journey along Doggett's
leg. "I'm very aware that we're in a brave new world for you." Doggett
felt a blush threaten. "And much as I'd like to fuck this cute virgin
ass into the mattress..." The blush stopped threatening and raged over
his face and into his ears. "I'm sure you'd appreciate a more 'gradual'
approach." He stopped stroking and looked up at Doggett's face. If he
noticed the colour of his ears, he didn't mention it, for which Doggett
was absurdly grateful. "Am I right?"

Doggett swallowed. Shit. Not a lunatic, just a mind-reader. He nodded,
slowly.

"Besides, I'm willing to bet you haven't got a spare bottle of
Astroglide in that bedside drawer of yours. And I'm far too old and
boring to want to go downstairs and get olive oil out of your kitchen."
He smiled. "It's such a bitch to get out of the bed linen." Doggett
gaped at him, words completely out of the question. "Okay, then."
Conversation over, Skinner bent and began to apply himself again, much
to the delight of Doggett's dick.

Quite frankly, Doggett was amazed at the range of noises that came out
of his throat while Skinner worked. He hoped it didn't make him sound
like an idiot. But he couldn't seem to stop himself. Not only was that
incredible mouth milking him from his toes upwards, but he was taking
the time to caress the inside of his thighs and balls, the gentle touch
making his nuts ache. Fuck. Ironic that none of his women lovers had
ever been quite this good at b.j.'s. Must be some truth in the old joke
that it takes a man to know what another man wants. A tiny thought
wondered if the rule was the same for women.

Skinner had paused, long enough for Doggett to eventually look up. He
craned his neck to see. "What you doin'?" Curiosity overcoming impatience.

Skinner looked up and grinned. "Wait and see," he laughed and then his
hand disappeared.

Strange, Doggett thought, and then his mind blanked as he lay back down,
that talented mouth sucking away all thought. A hand went under his left
butt cheek, lifting him up a little. Doggett groaned as the angle caused
him to slip further down the A.D.'s throat. And then he gave more of a
shout as a wet finger disappeared between his cheeks. "Yow!"
Relentlessly, the intrusion pushed further, surprise making Doggett's
eyes bulge open. "Shit..." And then, all of a sudden, it was inside him,
and the shock of the unfamiliar feeling shutting his mouth with a snap.
For a second, the blow job was driven out of his mind. Fuck.

He took a deep breath, sorting out the sensation, not at all sure he
liked it. He frowned, feeling himself clamping down. Not even his wife
had done this, in all the years they'd been married. Would Skinner be
offended if he said he didn't like it? And then the thought
disintegrated as Skinner pushed in and did something else making the
whole of Doggett's groin explode. "FUCK!" Later, he would hope he hadn't
screamed that out, but if he was honest, he probably had.

Loudly.

When the world trickled back into focus, when his hearing slipped back,
and his eyes cracked open, Doggett finally remembered to breathe again.
He gazed, glassy-eyed at the ceiling, panting.

Oh.

My.

God.

Somewhere, down by his recently departed dick, Skinner was chuckling,
softly.

"Tha..." he croaked. No. It was too much to expect his voice to work
properly.

"Good?" Skinner offered, helpfully.

He nodded. That was beyond good. More like nearer to amazing...
outstanding... or even fuckin' incredible, actually.

"I aim to please."

Doggett encouraged his head to move so he could look at the other man.
He was sure his neck muscles creaked. Skinner was gazing up at him, chin
on a fist, a smug expression plastered all over his face. Doggett
wondered what expression was all over his. "Your aim was... Pretty
amazin'," he ground out, knowing it'd be pointless to say anything else,
after that vocal reaction.

Skinner waggled his eyebrows, still grinning. He looked like a Cheshire
cat, thought Doggett. One that had got the cream. He blinked, amused at
his own analogy.

"Can I?" He lifted a boneless hand.

"Can you what?"

"Reci... repric..." He sighed. Reciprocate was way too hard for his
post-coital tongue. "You know."

Skinner smiled and shrugged. "You want to?"

Pausing for a second to check with his libido and masculinity, Doggett
was pleasantly surprised to find them both nodding. "Yeah," he said,
propping himself up on one elbow. "I do."

Crawling up the quilt to lie beside him, Skinner made himself comfy on
the pillows and waved his hands. "Help yourself." He lay totally
relaxed, a faint smile still on his lips. "Whatever you feel comfortable
with."

Well, thought Doggett, pulling himself up to a sitting position. There's
an offer you don't get every day. He could imagine that he would be the
envy of the entire Bureau typing pool, if he was of a mind to tell them.
Then again... Maybe not.

He let his eyes roam over the expanse of golden flesh displayed on the
bed and scratched his chest. What to do, and where to start? Well, at
the top was as good a place as any. He rested a palm on the centre of
Skinner's chest and leaned up and put his mouth to his lips. Good plan,
he thought, as the other man held his head and went at it, with gusto.
It'd been a while since they'd kissed, felt good to re-acquaint himself.
Taking the initiative, Doggett moved his mouth and began to work his way
across Skinner's face, wondering at the feel of the beard under his
lips, trying to decide how he felt about it. Actually, it wasn't as
strange as he'd have thought. Kissing another man. Affection was
affection. And he liked Skinner. Liked the way he did big cat
impersonations in the back of his throat, as the kisses disappeared down
the front of his chest. Doggett moved to sit astride Skinner's legs,
wanting better access. The idea of sitting nude on top of another man
was negligible. Seems you could adjust to anything, he thought.

He ran his hands over Skinner's wide shoulders, and down the arms lying
on the quilt. The hairs on them tickled his palms. That was something
you didn't find on a woman. Shit, he thought with a grin. Hair like
this, was something you didn't find on him.

"Amusing yourself?"

"Yep."

"Okay, then."

Silence fell between them, while Doggett explored. He ruffled chest hair
every which way, learning how it moved, deeply intrigued, because he had
none. He bent to taste, to see if the skin tasted any different, and
then rolled Skinner's nipples like radio-knobs, making the other man
laugh. Scraping his nails down a trim waist, he grinned at the jump of
the muscles. "Ticklish?" he teased.

"Uh-uh." Skinner shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Silence again, while Doggett let his fingers wander through the line of
hair that pointed the way from Skinner's belly button to his groin. He
combed the short hairs, re-arranging the way they lay on Skinner's
belly, then he bent to kiss his handiwork, dipping his tongue into the
little hole. Pulling a face, he sat up quickly, fishing between his
teeth. "Yeuch."

"What?" said Skinner.

"You're shedding."

Skinner burst out laughing.

Doggett made spitting noises. "It's like making love to Gentle Ben."
Wiping the stray hair away, Doggett stared down at the man under him.
God. Making love. Did he just say that? Well, whadd'ya wanna call it? He
asked himself? 'Fuckin'? Is that what they were doin'? No - he answered
himself. It wasn't that. 'Fucking' wasn't the right word, at all. It
didn't even begin to cover this. Skinner stared back. Still smiling that
big old sappy smile. Doggett found himself grinning back. Yeah. Okay.
Making love. That'd do it.

"Quit your bitching," Skinner told him.

"Who you callin' a bitch?" he demanded, tweaking a nipple, and bending
forward to bite Skinner's side. He sucked hard, leaving a mark. "Explain
that in the Bureau showers," he grinned, looking down at the bruise.

"You dipshit!" Skinner said, rubbing the spot and flicking Doggett's
knee with the other.

Looking down at Skinner fussing, his eyes found themselves drawn down to
his groin. Doggett pondered the dick sitting between them, pointing
relentlessly up at the ceiling. He reached out and ran his fingers up
it. Skinner shivered. Okay, so he likes that, Doggett thought. Let's
start from there.

"Good," Skinner told him.

Doggett nodded. Yeah. I bet. He played for a while, learning the noises
Skinner made on the different strokes. Deep noises, little grunts. It
was like playing the world's strangest instrument. String instrument, or
one you could blow? The thought made him grin. One way to find out.
Doggett leaned closer, plucking up the courage to return the favour. And
found himself hesitating.

Above him, a deep voice rumbled. "It's not as bad as you might think."

"I know." Doggett looked up. "My wife always used to say the thought of
it, was worse than actually doin' it."

Skinner roared with laughter."Mine too." He shook his head. "You think
there's a seminar they all go to?"

Doggett pulled a face. "I think it's obligatory, after ten years of
marriage."

Skinner shook his head. "I hear you."

"Wonder if they'd do it more if they knew how good it felt?"

Skinner snorted loudly. "Less, probably."

"Yeah." And with that thought laughing in his head, Doggett moved that
last inch or so and took Skinner in his mouth. Not as bad as he'd
imagined. Not that he'd ever really given this serious thought. Well,
not very often, anyway. Just on the odd millionth occasion Rudy had
offered to do him.

It was a bit salty, a bit sweet, but mostly just warm skin. Fair enough.
Working his head up and down to the sounds of satisfied Skinner-grunts,
Doggett closed his eyes and gave the job at hand his full, undivided
attention. He used his free hand to fondle a set of balls that were
rapidly disappearing up tight against a groin. Wasn't going to take
long, at this rate. He experimented, seeing how far down he could take
it. Coughing and choking, Skinner's erection fell out of his mouth.
Oops. He glanced up. "Sorry."

Skinner just grunted. His eyes stayed shut, but a big hand came up to
bury its fingers in what hair the barber had seen fit to leave.

"Kay," he muttered, patting. Try again. Have to be careful not to bite
off more than he could chew, he told himself. Doggett bet whoever
thought that one up, didn't have this in mind. He worked his way up and
down, paying attention to the sensations he knew he liked, alternating
deeper strokes with tip-work.

"Oh, god..." Skinner groaned, his fingers still tangled in Doggett's
hair, his hips twitching. He was trying to hold back with the thrusting,
Doggett guessed. Didn't want to choke him to death. He sucked harder.

"Ow... Shit!"

All of a sudden, he felt Skinner's body clench, his balls tighten, and
he braced himself for the inevitable. Well, he might be willing, but his
technique stank, he thought, as a good deal of Skinner's come flowed
back out of his mouth and on to his groin. Shit. He coughed, gagging on
the speed and sheer volume of what was pumping out. Not what you'd call
very graceful, at all. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Damn!
There must be a special way to do that, without getting into such a
fuckin' mess.

He glanced up at the other man. A goner. Totally fuck-blind. Eyes shut,
jaw slack. Oh, well, he might not be the world's best cocksucker, but at
least he got the job done. He grinned. Rubbing the spilled come into
Skinner's belly, he flopped down next to Skinner, and waited for him to
recover. More Firsts. That scoresheet must be gettin' pretty full up,
tonight. "How y'doin'?" he asked, eventually.

Skinner opened one eye. "Out-fucking-standing, my man," he grinned. "I'm
impressed."

Doggett inclined his head. "My pleasure."

That got him a look from both of those dark eyes. "Are you sure?" he
asked. Running his tongue around the strange taste in his mouth, and
thinking seriously about the question, Doggett scratched his nose. Was
he? Sure, it was an unusual way to spend his Friday night, but on the
whole, he'd had a real good time. Good enough to maybe want to do it
again, sometime? Sure. Tomorrow, maybe?

Skinner waited for his reply. Looking at him, blinking.

"Yeah," he said, at last. "I am."

"Yeah?"

Doggett grinned. He'd thought he was supposed to be the insecure one. He
leaned over to kiss Skinner, softly. "Yeah. Relax, okay?"

Skinner kissed him back and snaked an arm around his shoulders, pulling
Doggett into a hug. "I'm glad," he said.

Resting his head on the tanned shoulder, Doggett hooked a lean leg over
Skinner's hairy one. This was comfortable. Lying in someone else's arms.
Especially someone like this. An equal? Maybe. A friend. Hopefully.
Doggett put his hand over his yawning mouth.

"Am I boring you?" Skinner joked.

Doggett laughed. "Nah. Just beat." He yawned again, just to prove a
point, then plopped his hand on Skinner's chest. "You wore me out." The
chest rumbled with quiet laughter. Then Skinner yawned, too.

"Must be catching."

"Yeah." he hoped Skinner would sleep over tonight. It'd be nice just to
go to sleep together, not have to do the whole, 'shall I call tomorrow'
thing before slinking away into the night. Doggett closed his eyes and
sighed. He didn't think Skinner would just presume. He'd have to ask.
"You'll stay. Tonight, I mean?" he said.

"That okay? I'd like that."

"Sure."

Easy as that? Man, this was easier than with a woman. Doggett smiled
against Skinner's shoulder. How about that? Damn shame he'd never get to
tell Rudy that he had been right, all along. Man, would he get his ass
well and truly kicked by Lt. Wallis for fuckin' about, wasting all those
years.

Something was tickling at the side of his face. He reached up a hand to
scratch and was surprised to find his fingers coming away wet. Doggett
stared at them, dumbly. What the hell?

Beside him, Skinner lifted his head to see what was holding his
attention. He touched the moisture on Doggett's fingers. "What's all
this about?" he asked, pulling himself up on an elbow. He took the hand
in his own to wipe it dry. "Regrets?"

Doggett nodded. Oh, yeah, regrets, alright. He turned to look at the man
lying next to him,. But he needed to explain. Needed to take away the
pain that had been in Skinner's voice when he asked that last question.
"Not about this," he replied, moving his fingers to entwine them with
Skinner's. "Not about you." Bringing their clasped fists to his mouth,
he kissed the back of Skinner's hand. "Trust me."

Skinner nodded, carefully. "Then... What?"

What indeed. Doggett thought for a moment. More correctly, more
honestly, it was a case of 'who'. He realised it was important to
explain to Skinner, but his throat was thickened by blood and dust from
a Beirut car-bomb. "I had a friend..." he began. His eyes were stinging
like a bitch from all that friggin' dust. Skinner nodded again. "Way
back in Service." Doggett cleared his throat. His voice sounded all
funny. "A good friend." He grinned. "The best. Could drink like a
ten-dollar whore, and fight almost as well." A bark of laughter chased
away the catch in his voice. "He'd take a bet on anythin' man. Fuckin'
anythin'. How quick a dog-turd dried in the sun... How many times the
Drill Sergeant said 'fuck'... Which new grunt'd puke first in the bar...
Anythin'." Skinner chuckled. "He could strip a Harley engine, an A-K 47,
or a Beirut whore..." Doggett held up his hand and snapped his finger.
"Slicker 'n snot, man." He laughed softly. "Great guy." Doggett lay
there in the dark room, running Rudy's video tape in his mind. The one
he very occasionally, allowed to make him cry.

"He dead?" Skinner put his hand gently on to Doggett's belly.

Nodding, Doggett dragged his arm over his face. He sighed. "A while
now," he said.

"Tough break."

"Yeah." Ain't that the truth, Doggett told himself.

"Your lover?"

Doggett started, surprised. "No. I told you. I never..." Rudy, his arm
draped over his shoulder as they argued whether John would ever drop his
pants for a b.j., lurched into focus. Closely followed by that old
favourite, the first - last, bloody kiss. Shit. That damned dust again.

This time, Skinner wiped his face for him. "Okay," he said nodding. "But
you did love him." It wasn't a question.

Whadd'ya know? The letter T, for Truth. Doggett looked at Skinner's
finger, then into his own heart. "Yeah..." He thought about how the
admission altered his view of himself. Strangely, it didn't change a
thing. He nodded. "I did."

"That's good," Skinner leaned over and kissed the end of his nose.

"He wanted to..." He shrugged, looking Skinner's body up and down. "You
know..."

"Uh-huh."

"But I never let him... Always said 'no'." The stain of Rudy's blood had
stayed on his lips long after the MedEvac team had taken the broken body
away. The bitter taste of his blood had stayed in Doggett's mouth for
much longer. His gruff, ex-smoker's voice had gone quiet. "I didn't have
the balls."

Skinner stroked his head and down over the creased face. "It's okay."

Doggett frowned. "Maybe I might have..." He gave a derisive snort. He
knew damn well he wasn't anywhere near as Rudy. Hadn't got the balls to
be a gay Marine. Crazy old Rudy, still offering sex, even as the dry
Beirut ground drank his life from his shattered legs.

"He knew," Skinner said.

Doggett looked up, hopefully. "You think?" That might help. Ease the guilt.

"Sure. He was still your friend, even when you said 'no', wasn't he?"

Doggett nodded. Yeah. For five years after first asking. And then every
day for the entire five fuckin' years afterwards.

Skinner shrugged. "There y'go, then."

Doggett smiled. "Actually, I did kiss him. Once."

Skinner chuckled. "That's what you meant by 'not exactly', then?"

"Yeah." Not exactly. Not exactly what Rudy'd had in mind. Not exactly
what Doggett'd had in mind, either.

"Like it?" Skinner asked, innocently.

"I didn't get the chance to find out." Doggett gave a crooked smile. "He
died about two minutes after I did it."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry."

Doggett shrugged. "S'okay. Prob'ly wouldn't have done it at all,
unless..." Yeah, then they'd probably have spent the rest of their
lives, drinkin' beer, play-fightin' and raggin' on each other to hell.
Rudy callin' him a dumb queer-bashing Redneck, and him calling Rudy a
screaming faggot queen. And they'd have lived happily ever after. Or
unhappily after. Who knew?

"Glad you did it?"

"Yeah." And for the first time, he really believed himself. He yawned
hugely, again.

"Close your eyes, John Doggett," Skinner told him, kissing the top of
his head. "God knows, you could do with the beauty sleep."

"Screw you, Walter Skinner," Doggett grinned, doing as he was told.

"One day, John Doggett," Skinner laughed. "One day."