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firewhiskeyficTitle: Reaching Out
Author:goatgodschild
I am of legal drinking age in my region: (YES)
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Mulder/Krycek // X-Files
Challenge/Prompts used: Marathon, Insomnia, Forced Proxim(it)y, One Too Many, The Hog’s Head
Summary: Krycek hits up Mulder while he’s in town
Rating/Warnings: G, unfortunately
Word count: 617
Author's Notes (if any): Whiskey limp is a bitch, which is why there is no smut in this. :(
They both have bad nighs sometimes. Admittedly, this is not unexpected in their ine of work, but the factb is the y do not always have their schedules able to line up. Besides, sometimes other nights ciome, and someone else calls. Some government free-ear pet--
Mauthor’s note: just remembered i Can’t write women very well even though I hesadvcanon oksy. So it is time to restart this.
The knowing is the worst part. He’s got pile of guily, guilt in every direction, so many layers of it that itcould fill a sea trench. Buy tht’s about everything, and it’s the knowing that’s UNUSUAL.
Krycek knows all this. Mulder’s been broken in so many places that there’s np joy in it anymore. But you could shape him, direct him, because Mulder wants to sere so badly thst it bleeds into everything he touches.
Being a born-and bred fbi and broader psychic has its uses, and Krycek reaches out his awareness ibn a thin line to try and catch Mulderr’s signal. Ifb he catches, Krycek will send over his own flash of imagery, a game of paperless, X-rated Pictionary taking plce since Atlantis. The line comes back, muxzzy and temperamental. Krycek’s favorite mood of dealing with Mulder, when he’s willinf to drop the good-guy acts snd just lean into being the needy brat he is.
Signal’s muzzy, so Krycek adds on a few more questing strands, forcing proximiy. Oh, pf course. Ever since he’d found those record, Mulder’s brrn working on his own methods. Empathy, especially, no matter how many times it’s been obvious that extending overwhelming empathy in a murder invrdtigatioon will burn your mind out. Then again, Krycek’s felt Mulder’s empathy, and is a.ways renminded of a large dog snuffling at you in questing assurance . One too many of those, and of course his mental touch feels ragged and burned.
More precise coordinates are exchanged via phone, and Mulder is on his way to mee t Krycek st the Hog’s Head, the local anarchist lite bar. The good thing about disability is thst it puts you on the outside. Nobody seeing Krycek’s left side would guess he was bred like he was, ;et alone trained.
Mulder doesn’t come here so often, but it’s Tuesday night, so his contacts are probably over st the SCA. He looks oo anxious to be a cop, with thst long-limbed marathon runner’s body. Not aa long distance swimmer, even if his long reach would be the pride of any racer swim team on the sprints.
“Isnomia?” he tosses of , as if Krycek can’t see the bags under his eyes and ragged wear of skin.
“Call it that.”
“Got something for me?”
“You REALLY think that I wood just call you over for that? You;re the one who looks ready to drop.”
Krycek rolls his shoulder forwards,angling it so hst the thumpleft false puppetiing hand thumped squarely against Mulder’s crotch.
“Forget the plan, Fox.” Pklan, consiracy, gerat design, whatever. “Just loose yourself for a night. The skunk ape or whatever is goimngt to wait another day.”
“There’s interviews--”
“Foxyyy.” Krycek said, laying on his thickest camp ccent. “I f you want to hitv up some Vrillian, you cn wait till then, but i’d take the terrestrial option.”’
That was the great thing about the Hog’s head, they never looked terribly out of place. There were two twentysomethings necking s passionately in the orner thst Krycek decided thet wouldn’t be likely to bomb tht state office they’d been bragging about.
“If this is a trick, I’ll tskr your other arm.”
“Is your safeword still Starbuck?”
Mulder nodded. He was a rare treat, but that madev hi, al the more worth it.
Author:
goatgodschildI am of legal drinking age in my region: (YES)
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Mulder/Krycek // X-Files
Challenge/Prompts used: Marathon, Insomnia, Forced Proxim(it)y, One Too Many, The Hog’s Head
Summary: Krycek hits up Mulder while he’s in town
Rating/Warnings: G, unfortunately
Word count: 617
Author's Notes (if any): Whiskey limp is a bitch, which is why there is no smut in this. :(
They both have bad nighs sometimes. Admittedly, this is not unexpected in their ine of work, but the factb is the y do not always have their schedules able to line up. Besides, sometimes other nights ciome, and someone else calls. Some government free-ear pet--
Mauthor’s note: just remembered i Can’t write women very well even though I hesadvcanon oksy. So it is time to restart this.
The knowing is the worst part. He’s got pile of guily, guilt in every direction, so many layers of it that itcould fill a sea trench. Buy tht’s about everything, and it’s the knowing that’s UNUSUAL.
Krycek knows all this. Mulder’s been broken in so many places that there’s np joy in it anymore. But you could shape him, direct him, because Mulder wants to sere so badly thst it bleeds into everything he touches.
Being a born-and bred fbi and broader psychic has its uses, and Krycek reaches out his awareness ibn a thin line to try and catch Mulderr’s signal. Ifb he catches, Krycek will send over his own flash of imagery, a game of paperless, X-rated Pictionary taking plce since Atlantis. The line comes back, muxzzy and temperamental. Krycek’s favorite mood of dealing with Mulder, when he’s willinf to drop the good-guy acts snd just lean into being the needy brat he is.
Signal’s muzzy, so Krycek adds on a few more questing strands, forcing proximiy. Oh, pf course. Ever since he’d found those record, Mulder’s brrn working on his own methods. Empathy, especially, no matter how many times it’s been obvious that extending overwhelming empathy in a murder invrdtigatioon will burn your mind out. Then again, Krycek’s felt Mulder’s empathy, and is a.ways renminded of a large dog snuffling at you in questing assurance . One too many of those, and of course his mental touch feels ragged and burned.
More precise coordinates are exchanged via phone, and Mulder is on his way to mee t Krycek st the Hog’s Head, the local anarchist lite bar. The good thing about disability is thst it puts you on the outside. Nobody seeing Krycek’s left side would guess he was bred like he was, ;et alone trained.
Mulder doesn’t come here so often, but it’s Tuesday night, so his contacts are probably over st the SCA. He looks oo anxious to be a cop, with thst long-limbed marathon runner’s body. Not aa long distance swimmer, even if his long reach would be the pride of any racer swim team on the sprints.
“Isnomia?” he tosses of , as if Krycek can’t see the bags under his eyes and ragged wear of skin.
“Call it that.”
“Got something for me?”
“You REALLY think that I wood just call you over for that? You;re the one who looks ready to drop.”
Krycek rolls his shoulder forwards,angling it so hst the thumpleft false puppetiing hand thumped squarely against Mulder’s crotch.
“Forget the plan, Fox.” Pklan, consiracy, gerat design, whatever. “Just loose yourself for a night. The skunk ape or whatever is goimngt to wait another day.”
“There’s interviews--”
“Foxyyy.” Krycek said, laying on his thickest camp ccent. “I f you want to hitv up some Vrillian, you cn wait till then, but i’d take the terrestrial option.”’
That was the great thing about the Hog’s head, they never looked terribly out of place. There were two twentysomethings necking s passionately in the orner thst Krycek decided thet wouldn’t be likely to bomb tht state office they’d been bragging about.
“If this is a trick, I’ll tskr your other arm.”
“Is your safeword still Starbuck?”
Mulder nodded. He was a rare treat, but that madev hi, al the more worth it.