The characters contained in this story are not my property -- they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Twentieth-Century Fox Broadcasting. Even so -- I'm dead broke, so don't sue me, guys...

It's my first dip into the slashy end of the pool, so be gentle. Don't expect this to fit anywhere in the "Duane Barry/Ascension" timeline established in the show, just accept it for what it is -- an excuse for totally gratuitous comfort sex between our two favorite gorgeous guys. All feedback is welcome -- just post it to the M/K list...

I suppose I have three people to thank for this -- Cody for giving me an image I couldn't get out of my mind, Sarah McLachlan for the perfect song to go along with that image, and Leigh for corrupting a previously unsuspecting shipper. Thanks...I think...

Song lyrics from "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan...


ANGEL

A scene that *might have happened* during "Ascension"

by

Sugar Rush


She was gone, and his whole world had crashed, burned, dissolved into a heap of cold grey ash.

Slouched forward on the couch, elbows propped on knees, mouth pressed to steepled fingers, he stared at thinning threads of sunlight playing on the far wall, not moving, scarcely breathing. His eyes felt like two burned holes in a blanket, but he didn't bother stretching out, trying to rest. Skinner'd ordered him home for exactly that reason, but he wouldn't, couldn't, not until they found her...

He was to blame, that he knew beyond question, beyond doubt. If he hadn't given her that implant, Duane Barry would never have been able to find her. If that fucking psycho hurt her--

If she ended up dead--

It was on him. All on him--

The sudden knock on the front door sailed through his head like a bullet, intensifying the sharp throbbing over his left eye. He didn't want to get up. Maybe if he just sat quietly, whoever it was would finally give up and go away--

"Hey, Mulder, open up. It's me."

Krycek. God, he couldn't think of anybody he wanted to see less. The guy'd been stuck to him like a sweaty t-shirt ever since they'd started working together; hell, if he'd had a tail, he probably would've wagged it every time Mulder walked in the room. It was flattering in a way, he supposed, but mostly what he felt was embarrassed -- weirdly enough, more for Krycek than himself. Didn't he realize how obvious he was being?

"C'mon, Mulder, I know you're in there. I saw your car parked down in the garage."

He groaned, hanging his head.

"I've got news about Scully."

And he was off the couch and at the door in five seconds flat, wrenching the knob so viciously the brass burned his palm--

But the question burning in his throat stopped there, frozen solid by the sight of Krycek standing in the hallway, dressed in jeans, plain grey t-shirt, black leather jacket. It was the first time Mulder'd ever seen him in anything but a bad suit.

Momentary dizziness rippled through him, his mouth going dry. Jesus, all this worry about Scully was starting to make him physically sick...

"You gonna make me stand out here all night?" Krycek asked.

He stepped back to let Alex in, shutting the door behind him. "What is it?"

No answer other than a shrug.

"They found her yet?"

"I lied about that. There's no news."

"Then why the hell did--"

"Got you to open the door, didn't it?" He lifted one hand before Mulder could snap back his reply, waggling a grease-stained paper bag. "Leftover Chinese from lunch. Thought you might want to help me finish it." His stunned incredulity must've shown in his expression, for Krycek added, "c'mon, you didn't eat anything that I could see all day today or yesterday. You got me worried."

His anger fizzled, dissipated by the genuine concern apparent in Krycek's stance, in his deep green eyes. His partner had come to offer what moral support he could in a difficult time, and he'd been just about ready to throw him out over it...

//Get a grip, Mulder...last thing you need right now is to alienate the only person around who'll listen to your fucked-in-the-head theories without laughing...at least to your face...//

"Yeah, well...thanks for your concern," he mumbled, rubbing a hand through his hair, "but it's not necessary--"

But Alex had already gone into the kitchen, looking around with puzzlement. "Where's your microwave?"

"Don't have one."

"You're kidding -- everybody's got a microwave!"

"Well, I don't," he replied, defensiveness creeping into his tone, though he couldn't quite figure out why. "I'm never home to use one anyway."

"Okay, so we do it the old-fashioned way," Krycek sighed, flicking on the oven. "It's gonna take about half an hour to heat up, so you might as well go take a shower and change clothes or...something."

He followed Krycek's line of sight, glancing down at himself, at his rumpled suit. He'd flung off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves as soon as he'd hit the couch, but had found it too much of an effort to make himself more comfortable than that.

Right now, though, the idea of a shower was strangely welcome, even enticing...

A lot more enticing than staying out here trying to make small talk with Alex until the food was ready.

"Go on," Krycek said, opening one cupboard, then another, finally finding clean plates to go with the silverware he already had laid out on the counter, "I'll take care of everything here."

The sight made the corners of his mouth quirk up. "Anybody ever tell you you'd make some guy a nice wife, Alex?"

It wasn't the icebreaker he was hoping for, not if Krycek's flinty-eyed, tight-jawed expression was anything to judge by. The savage tug Krycek gave the oven door was more than enough to make Mulder sprint for the bathroom, leaving a trail of shoes and clothing in the bedroom as he went.

He didn't usually shut the bathroom door when he showered, but he did this time. The hot water smacked into him like a wall of concrete, jarring him to full awareness at last. Full awareness of everything...

Well, if he'd harbored doubts before, they were now totally shattered. Alex was suffering from more than just a bad case of hero worship -- the guy had a full-fledged crush on him. Jesus, just what he needed right now...

He didn't know why he found the revelation so stunning. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened -- there'd been a couple guys back at Oxford, but he'd simply told them he wasn't interested, and that had been that--

Only thing was, one part of his body belied his claim to no interest in this particular instance -- the part that was slowly stiffening as he stroked it with one soapy hand, as his mind conjured up an image of Alex in here with him, under the steamy spray, water slicking that silky-looking dark hair of his, pouring over his upturned face, down his throat, over the softly-thrumming pulse there--

He reached for the cold water knob, twisting it all the way, relief jetting through him as his arousal wilted under the icy blast.

He toweled off, but decided he still didn't have the energy to drag a razor over his face. Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, he ambled back into the kitchen with all the ease of a convict being led to the gallows.

The savory aromas wafting in the air helped him unclench a bit inside, but he bypassed the already-set kitchen table and took a seat on the couch. He always ate here. If Krycek didn't like it, he could sit at the table by himself.

There was music playing too, softly, in the background; Krycek must've turned on the radio. Slouching forward, he ran both hands through hair still wet and spiky from the shower, letting the music wash over him, into him...


Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction
Or beautiful release
Memories seep through my veins
It may be empty or weightless
Or maybe I'll find some peace tonight...

In the arms of the angel
Far away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here...


"Hey."

He looked up to see Alex standing in front of him, plate of food in hand.

"You hungry now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Mulder replied, taking the plate, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him, hunching over to start eating. He had no desire to examine either Alex's question or his answer too closely right now.

He shoveled the food into his mouth, suddenly ravenous, filling the aching hollowness in his belly, finally pushing the plate away--

"Want some more?"

Mulder looked up with a start; he hadn't realized Alex was still there. "I'm done," he said, handing back the plate. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The blood had rushed into his stomach, making him drowsy, but he didn't swing his legs up on the couch, didn't stretch out. Even if he wanted to sleep, he didn't think he'd be able to; he'd passed into a state way beyond normal exhaustion a long time ago. Probably the best he could hope for now was a dazed stupor.

Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to think of nothing...

Until he sensed the couch cushions dipping down on the other side of him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his numbed mind he knew it was Krycek's hand, but he still didn't move.

Then the hand started rubbing, kneading Mulder's shoulders, the nape of his neck, fingertips pressing, working out the knots there. Before long the other hand joined in, Krycek getting to his knees on the couch, moving behind him to gain a better grip.

His muscles screamed in protest, but it felt so damned good at the same time, the tension in his body untwisting by slow degrees, feeling the heat of Krycek's body so close to his, separated only by two whisper-thin layers of cotton. Something in Mulder told him he should be recoiling from such intimate contact with another man, but he found he had no will, no strength left to fight the inevitable...

And the inevitable was happening, right here, right now. He could feel it, hot, searing arrows of arousal shooting straight to his groin, turning him rock-hard. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so turned on with someone else in the room.

The barest touch of two very warm, soft lips on the side of his throat sent a molten jolt through him, nearly making him come in his pants--

And his eyes met Krycek's, hazel locking on green in the room's fading early-evening light--

And Krycek's mouth came down on his, subtle as a knife, tongue pushing roughly between his lips, sweeping inside--

He'd never dreamed another man could taste this good, a hot explosion of spice and musk smashing into him like a tidal wave, tearing away his mind's last ragged threads of resistence, stripping him bare--

He felt himself being pushed back lengthwise on the couch, felt the solid weight of Alex's body coming on top of his, mouth bestowing another brutal, endless kiss, hands tugging at Mulder's t-shirt, yanking it from the waistband of his jeans, fingers fumbling at his fly button, easing down his zipper, reaching inside--

Felt Alex sliding down, then something hot and wet closing over the tip of his erection, a velvety tongue flicking over him, finally engulfing him--

Alex's soft, insistent sucking conspired to drive him insane; Mulder let one hand drift down, tangling in black silk, holding him there, showing him how he wanted it. He didn't know where his partner'd learned to do what he was doing, but he knew he'd strangle him if he stopped. Hell, he'd probably strangle him if he didn't stop -- the way Alex was going, it looked like he was ready to swallow him whole--

And in the next second, that was exactly what he did, his head bobbing up and down, creating even greater friction, sucking harder, reaching underneath to cup, roll Mulder's testicles with one hand--

And that was all it took. With a cry torn from the base of his spine, he went sailing, hurtling headlong over the edge, Alex's mouth still milking him, swallowing him--

He didn't know how long it was before he finally regained his awareness, but the first thing he became conscious of was the fact that he was lying cradled in Alex's arms, his partner's t-shirted front pressed to his similarly-clothed back. Mulder's hand went straight to his fly, relief sluicing over him when he found his zipper closed. Maybe he'd dreamed it all...

Yeah, that was it -- he'd eaten too much and had fallen asleep here on the couch and had another nightmare, and Alex was just trying to make sure he was okay--

//To hell with that...c'mon, Mulder, face it...you let another guy suck you off, and you loved it...//

//And you want him to do it again...and a few other things besides...//

Sitting up abruptly, he scooted down to the far end of the couch, rubbing both hands over his face.

"You okay?" Alex asked.

This time when he felt his partner's hand on his shoulder, he shook it off. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because...you wanted it, and because I did--"

"You came here for that, didn't you?" he demanded, twisting around to face the younger man. "You came here to seduce me."

"I came here to bring you dinner. I wasn't expecting to--"

"Bullshit," he rasped, getting up, shoving both hands into his pockets. "You've been looking at me like I was a rare steak from the second you got here, so don't tell me this wasn't planned--"

"It wasn't," Krycek shot back, getting up himself, going to the kitchen table, grabbing his jacket, putting it on, "but I don't suppose anything I say now'll make you believe that. Jesus, Mulder, after all this time working together, I thought you trusted me--"

"I don't trust anybody. Especially you."

"You trusted Scully."

Her name coming from Alex's mouth made his hands ball up into fists, his teeth clench. It took every last shred of his willpower to keep from grabbing Krycek by the neck of his shirt and throwing him through the nearest wall. "You leave her out of--"

"Why? Because you feel responsible for what's happened to her?"

"Get out," he snapped, red flashing in front of his eyes. "Get the fuck out of here right now, I'm warning you--"

"Or what? You're gonna hurt me? Try it," Alex said, his tone half-taunting, coming toward him, stopping right in front of him, so close he could feel Alex's breath warm and soft on his face. "You can't, can you? Not after what we've done."

Their close proximity was starting to do things to him again, hellish things, tearing him apart in both mind and body. "Just go," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Get out and leave me alone."

"Alone with your guilt? I don't think that'd be too smart." His hand came up, cupping the side of Mulder's throat where he'd kissed him earlier, sliding up, thumb splayed over his cheek. "They'll find her, Mulder. You can't give up hope yet."

"How do you know?"

"She hasn't been missing that long." Then, with a shrug, "it's just a feeling."

Weariness came over him then, a dense, knee-buckling rush that left him suddenly rubbery, boneless. Head tilting forward, he let his forehead touch Alex's, their mouths scant millimeters from making contact--

"You need sleep," Krycek said, "or you're gonna be useless tomorrow."

Like he'd been today, and the day before that. God, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt so tired it hurt to think, even to breathe--

"C'mon, Mulder," his partner said, stepping back into the stream of faint golden light still seeping through the thin white curtains, holding out his hand, "let's go to bed."

Mulder blinked, shaking his head. For a moment he couldn't help thinking Alex looked...

Ethereal. Unearthly...

Almost angelic.

It had to be the light, or maybe just the depth of his exhaustion. Either way, he didn't care. For that brief time on the couch with Alex, he'd found...solace. Peace. He wanted that feeling again.

He took the proffered hand and followed.