Happy Nick Lea-Day, Alex!

Title: Have Your Cake And...
Author/pseudonym: Fan4Richie
Fandom: X Files
Pairing: Things go better with Alex in any story pairing.
Rating: NC-17 Slash Humor
Status: Spur of the moment
Archive:
E-mail address for feedback: Fan4Richie@AOL.COM
Series/Sequel: List Fics
Disclaimers: I like Nick Lea as an actor and wish him all of the best roles
in his future. I love Alex Krycek as a fictional character and presume he
shares the actor's birthday.

 

Alex glanced at the clock. Nearly noon and he was all alone on his birthday.
As usual, he had resorted to wholesale gun cleaning as a means to calm his
wounded ego and heart. There, laid out on all the extra pages of USA Today
that did not have Nick Lea's picture, were all the guns in Skinner's house.
The Glock, the other Glock, the gun with the big silencer, Mulder's FBI gun,
now equipped with a long piece of elastic so Scully could thread the rubber
around Mulder's shoulders and help him hold onto his gun on one side and his
phone on the other, a Russian KGB special, and, of course, the broken X-Files
canon that the writer never used anyway.

How in the hell could they do this to him? Skinner could have assigned
someone else. Walter and Mulder did not need to be out of town for his
birthday. Alex sucked in his lower lip before it could perform a Mulder-like
quiver. As he oiled and polished his weapon, Alex let his thoughts...oh,
right, the Glock...he was supposed to be cleaning that!

Well, hmm, he rescued the USA page that had his favorite actor's picture.
Maybe that was what he should do today? Go visit Carter and persuade him to
use the guy consistently and frequently. Get those writers to move the next
kiss nearer the target and explain explicitly about those warm thoughts
Skinner wanted Alex to have...Hey, a few good movie roles...an artistic nude
scene, it was amazing how producers and directors got their creative juices
flowing with a plam applied just right.

A knock on his door sent him to answer it, Glock in hand. It was just Scully.
Alex ignored her interested stare. Surely everyone had a pair of leather
thong underwear stashed away some place? The shrink to fit had been hell, but
the end result was spectacular. Scully wobbled as her face suffused with a
rosy glow. She reached out to put her soft little hand on his arm and asked,
"Alex, how do you feel about writing some Skipper fiction? I happen to have
these ripe cherries and we could watch that new soap opera, World Without
End?"

Alex tried to think, but he couldn't figure out what she meant by all that.
He just wanted to be left alone to grieve because it was his birthday and his
lovers weren't with him. Alex brushed away a bunch of tears. Damn, this was
hard. In all those single tear stories, what do you think happened to the
rest? You got it, Stupid Ursula ran around, got them all and loaned some to
Fan4Richie. And let's not get into all the other almost and not quite flows
of bodily substances...

Alex let his lip quiver some more. Sure, Pendrell had showed up with flowers
and a plebeian, but sentimental gift of socks. Jeffrey Spender, looking
reasonably good for someone dead a few seasons, had brought him a platinum
plated plam with his initials set in gold and diamonds in the handle. The
Smoking Man had even sent chocolates, well, they were really chocolate
covered bombs, but what the hell, it was the thought that counted. Yet, all
the gifts in the world couldn't heal his broken heart...hey, Alex had to
write that down. Writing lyrics for country songs was an evil, disgusting way
to earn a living, but Walter insisted that he put his life of crime aside.
Hell of a lot of good it did trying to please that man...

Alex woefully answered, "Scully, I'm too down. Just leave me alone."

Dana pointed at his chest and asked, "Alex, what's that spilled on your
chest?"

Alex followed her finger and craned his head to look. With a Ms. Piggy like
"HI-YAH", Scully managed to kick the Glock from his hand. Alex had fallen for
the second oldest trick in the book. (The first oldest trick in the book was
dating Duncan MacLeod; he was one of the few who managed to give the Scotsman
head without losing his own.)

Alex shuddered beautifully and said, "I'm at your mercy."

Scully slowly said, "I know." Her blue eyes traveled up and down Alex's body
and she added, "It's just too bad this is a slash list... Come on, Alex. We
have to see a man about a horse."

The horse turned out to be the Lone Gun Men in a horse costume. Frohike was
the hindmost portion, making it one of the few occasions when an ass pinched
its riders. It was a rough and groping journey to one of the few remaining
abandoned warehouses unused in any fan fiction.

It was of course a surprise party. Alex felt a little better. The huge
building was almost all one room. They had roped it off with little placards
that said things like: Skinner/Krycek section, Mulder/Krycek section. Alex
and Scully however chose a little, but especially well-decorated section that
said, "Alex gets everybody." Alex liked the sound of that.

Scully sighed and said, "The Skipper's are holding their own bash. Some of
them can be a little difficult at times and I wanted to make sure that
everyone was safe." She sighed. Ursula almost always wrote, caring,
sacrificing Scully these days. If it wasn't for that, she could be rolling in
the hay with some sweet Alex clone at the Skipper party herself.

 

 

 

Alex couldn't believe how many people had gathered to celebrate his birthday.
Wow, hundreds...he looked everywhere and still no Walter or Mulder...Alex
looked around at all the Alex clones. Maybe he's borrow one of those... Not
the Bunny clones who were all dressed in tuxedos and doubling as waiters as
well as guests. It wasn't that these weren't adorable, but they were clones
that ran around with wolves. That didn't seem safe. He also didn't want the
vampire version of himself. Those sharp teeth and that red, red tongue scared
the hell out of Alex.

Nah, he was going to settle for some autoerotic play with one of the sweet
young things that were getting their asses patted around the room. That would
serve his lovers just right. Alex sat down with a sullen air that just made
his smolder even sexier. Scully said, "The cake is first then we eat..."

Alex asked, "Is it chocolate?"

Scully laughed and said, "Chocolate with a sweet, creamy filling. You'll love
it..."

MEANWHILE HIDDEN IN THE NEXT ROOM....

"Mulder, move your nose out of my crack!" Walter commanded.

Sounding happy, Mulder's voice was definitely not emerging from the lower
area of Walter's body. He said, "Walter, that's not my nose?"

Walter asked, "Is it your elbow?"

Mulder sounded like the cat that ate the cream. He purred, "Mmm, warmer, but
not hot."

Walter wiggled and the sharp, hard thing pulsed and grew. Walter groped for
his dwindling patience. "Mulder, we are not going to jump out of this thing
with your dick up my ass!"

Mulder muttered a few sulky words, but the pressure withdrew. Shortly,
afterwards, Walter felt a hot wet tongue on his shoulder. "Now, what Mulder?"

"Frosting." Mulder answered. "Hey, I'm getting hungry. Shouldn't they be done
by now?"

Ursula used the shovel to artistically plop on the final concealing coat of
frosting. The concrete truck with the ice cream should be pulling up any
minute. Expertly, she inserted her army boot in the rear of her naked and
unseemly companion. "Fan4Richie, leave that chocolate alone. Can't you even
behave for Alex's birthday? Is it any wonder that Richie Ryan runs screaming
when we even show up at the archive? Don't ruin it for Alex and I too!"

Fan4Richie replied, "YEOOWWWW"

 

Ursula hefted her long blue jean shirt, adjusted her ribbon shirt and cracked
her whip. She was proud of the presentation she had concocted. A team of
Mulder clones and Skinner clones, clad in green bows and brown velvet bows to
match their eyes pulled the carriage upon which the cake rested. The Walter
clones looked delighted, possibly because they were aware that they were
intended to be party favors to the writers most needing to be bribed after
the party. The bows perked even higher at the crack of the whip. Kinky,
Ursula liked that in a clone.

Alex's eyes lit, leaving just a hint of sadness, as he saw the cake. As he
stood to cut the thing, Fan4Richie finally came back out of the orbit into
which Ursula's powerful kick had sent him. He landed butt up in the salad.
Alex kindly plucked him out and decided that he would use that big sword to
really hack that luscious cake to pieces.

Alex raised the broad sword (It was really Ursula's sword, because Fan4Richie
bent his rapier sticking it in the ground.) A mild fight in the ranks had
distracted Ursula. Now, turning to see disaster, she yelled, "No, Alex, not
the sword..."

Fortunately Mulder was royally bored. He kicked out his side of the cake and
emerged in his birthday suit. Walter tried to follow but a glob of whipping
cream blinded him. "Agghh," Walter cried.

Hearing that beloved voice, Alex dropped the sword and leaned to see what was
in that gigantic shell of a cake. A massive hand emerged, grabbed him by the
neck and pulled him inside. Shortly thereafter, two unmatched hands groped
out, found Mulder and dragged him back into the cake.

Ursula waited five minutes, ten minutes, two hours, thirty minutes, and
twelve seconds. Hmm, she peeked inside, catching glimpses through the steam
filled filling. Oh my, my...

Woman-fully, she took a stance in front of the gouged out cake to protect
their privacy. Thinking about it, to hell with that, if she learned one thing
from Alex, take advantage of those unplanned opportunities. Producing a coin
changer from her gigantic purse, Ursula announced, " A dollar a peek.... Come
on line up nicely."

As Ursula raked in the various denominations of coins and bills, she smiled.
She could buy a whole new batch of writers for the X-Files with this bounty
and did she have a crew in mind! She giggled; all it would require is a flow
of fake journalists to keep Carter out of the way. By the time he realized
that the Skinner/Krycek list was writing the story line; it would be too
late. Yes, the perfect season lay in her grasp....

As she totaled the receipts, Ursula led the rousing cheer, "Happy Birthday,
Alex..."

 

 

And Happy Nick Lea day to all the folks on the message lists/ We can dream
can't we?