Still Need a Title
by Frankie
Author's Notes: This was written a few years ago for another Fight Club challenge and posted on the Fight Club list. The challenge was to Flame the Fight in honor of April Fool's Day. So, this is a PARODY of a fight story. It's being reposted to celebrate September being M/K month, April 2000. I did not have the heart to subject my darling betas to this, so I'm afraid that if the only person it makes sense to is me, them there's the breaks. This puppy's all over the place. There's even a wee tribute to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. All hail Flame the Fight!! (there, that should score some brownie points if everyone ends up going "huh?" by the end...heh... wait, was that out loud? D'oh!)
Disclaimer: This two characters belong to me. I acquired them in a hostile takeover that consisted of me, CC, and some very interesting video footage of him wearing lederhosen and singing songs from the "Grease" soundtrack. Don't worry, I'll pass them around so everyone can have a toke.
Spoilers: Common sense.
Rated:T for a bad word or two.
Summary: Mulder and Krycek talk and stuff and things happen and then it ends.
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mulder's apartment the night before they're supposed to fight or whatever say...1030 ish
The bright pink post-it note stuck out in stark contrast to the dull brown of his front door, and Mulder wondered why Krycek insisted on buying the neon-colored ones. Really, the plain yellow sticky notes were much more pleasing to the eye and didn't draw quite as much attention from nosy neighbors. Just last week, Mulder's landlord had told him he was violating the building's policy about decorations and had asked him to please take down the fifty or so post-its that were on his door. Mulder had done as she asked....but he wasn't happy about it. They were the only way for him to keep track of all the places they'd met before, and he didn't necessarily want them all over his apartment where they'd just bother him, so he'd left them on his door - easy access, but no indoor annoyance. All of this was a moot point now, anyway, since Mulder had indeed taken them all down and put them on the *inside* of his front door. Now he had another one. He took it down and read it
Tomorrow night. 11 o'clock. The parking lot on 1st and Clark. You know the one. K.
Mulder frowned. Actually, he didn't know the one. Taking out his cell phone, he opened his front door and walked into his apartment. Depositing the pink piece of paper on the back of the door, he heard Krycek's machine click on.
"I'm not here. Leave a message."
"Hey, it's me. I got your note, but what parking lot are you talking about? There're three there, I think. Call me back."
He'd just hung up when the phone rang.
"Mulder."
"Why don't you just go there and then you'd be able to see which one it is." Krycek sounded pissed off.
"Okay, but you said I'd know which one it is. What you should have said was wait for you on the corner of 1st and Clark at 11 o'clock."
A string of curses, followed by some banging noises. Mulder knew that Krycek was slamming the phone against something and waited patiently for him to finish getting out his frustrations.
"Mulder," Krycek finally said, his voice a little breathless, making Mulder wonder exactly how hard he'd been banging the phone, "just show up, okay?"
"Right. Bye."
"Wait, before you go, I've gotta ask you something."
Mulder paused. Krycek never asked him anything. "Yeah?"
"Can you wear something other than a suit?"
"Uh, sure. Why?"
"Well, it makes me feel like I'm beating up an accountant or something, and I'd like to try a little something different. There's not really much of a thrill in beating up someone who looks like you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Krycek sighed heavily, and Mulder wondered if there'd be another break while he had another fit. "It means, if someone came walking along and saw me kicking your ass, they'd just think it was some wuss being beaten up by some thug. But if you looked like a thug, too, it would look a little more dangerous."
"Oh. Okay. Bye."
"Wait, Mulder."
"What?"
"Is there anything you'd like me to wear?"
Mulder bit his lip, deep in thought. "Well, I like the way you dress, so I guess not."
"Don't get defensive."
"I'm not getting defensive."
"Then what did you mean by that?"
"I just wouldn't presume to tell you how to dress, that's all."
Another string of curses, more banging, and a breathless Krycek got back on the phone. "Forget I said anything."
"No, really, it's okay." Mulder paused. "And what makes you think you'd actually beat me this time?"
"Because I beat you every time we meet, Mulder."
"But, if you wanted to be fair, *I'd* win every now and then."
"No," Krycek said slowly, "if you were any type of fighter, you'd win every now and then."
"You make me sound like a wimp."
"Well, you are kind of a nancy boy. But, hey, this time you get to fuck me. It's your turn, I think."
Mulder pouted, a wormhole in the space time continuum opening at that very second, allowing a microscopic space fleet in search of all things sexy and provocative to see it, thus causing his bottom lip to quickly become the thing of legends, having numerous stories and poems written in dedication to the protuberance. In fact, in many microscopic galaxies, Mulder's bottom lip has inspired paid holidays and searches for other signs of intelligent and/or erotic life on distant planets, but so far nothing has been discovered. The only explanation for this is the lack of wormholes in the space time continuum anywhere near Krycek.
"What's wrong, Mulder? You pouting?"
"I don't want us to just take turns, you know."
"Fine, they'll I'll fuck *you*."
"Forget it. I'll see you tomorrow night." This time Mulder hung up before Krycek could say anything else.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
wherever they're supposed to meet tomorrow...uh, the next night 11 o'clock. pm.
Mulder stood on the corner, watching the people who walked past him start walking just a little faster when they saw him. He smiled to himself. Apparently wearing his thuggiest clothes had worked. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. Usually Krycek was early, but tonight he was going to be annoyingly on time, or worse, he was going to be late which meant Mulder would have to start things. Fine. Whatever.
"Hello, Mulder," a voice from behind him said.
Startled, Mulder turned around quickly, his eyes widening as he looked at Krycek. He was dressed in a suit that had to be from the days of their partnership, his hair was slicked back with enough gel to choke a Hollywood hairdresser, and he actually had a sweet, nave expression on his face. Mulder made a mental note to ask how he did that, but for now he wanted to know what exactly was going on.
"What exactly is going on?" Mulder asked, narrowing his eyes in his best 'what exactly is going on' fashion.
"Well, I felt so bad that I always win these fights--"
"You don't always win. In fact, in real life, *I* actually end up getting the upper hand and--"
"Yeah, but this isn't real life, doofus, I mean, Mulder. This is a Fight Club story, and this particular author has decided that I win all our fights. It's because she likes me best." Krycek immediately clamped a hand over his mouth and received an invisible thwap from above on the back of his head. "Uh...forget you heard that."
Mulder narrowed his eyes further until he looked like he was either suffering from allergies, or was really sleepy. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening...what did you say?"
"Just consider this a present to you. I'm gonna let you kick my ass."
"Oh." Mulder looked a little taken aback. "Okay."
"So..."
"So..."
The two of them stood there, looking at each other the way that two really hot guys who just want to have sex and forget about the fighting would. Stand there, that is. Mulder wasn't making a move toward Krycek and Krycek was just watching Mulder, waiting for him to make his move. After a few long moments (say, about seven minutes. Make it six.), Krycek looked at his watch then back at Mulder.
"Are you going to do anything?" he finally asked.
Mulder shrugged. "I don't know. I guess." With that, he gave Krycek a half-hearted shove.
"Mulder, that was pretty lame," Krycek said, shoving back a little harder.
"Oh yeah? Is this lame, too?" He pushed Krycek hard enough to send him sprawling.
Krycek smiled up at him. "Yeah. You could have at least gotten down here on top of me while you had the advantage."
"Damn. Well, get up and let me do that again."
Nodding his assent, Krycek stood up and dusted off his butt. Noticing a smudge on the arm of Krycek's jacket, Mulder quickly wiped it off before standing back in his "gonna push you down" stance.
"You ready?" Mulder asked.
Krycek rolled his eyes. "Mulder, you're not supposed to--"
This time Mulder did actually take him by surprise and shoved him onto the ground, sprawling on top of him and pinning Krycek's arms above his head. "Better?" he asked breathlessly, wriggling a little so that his denim-clad erection (see, he'd gotten kind of excited by this time) was grinding against Krycek's wool-covered, um, enthusiasm.
"Yeah, much," Krycek smiled, doing his own little wiggle under Mulder.
"So...is this good enough?"
Krycek quirked an eyebrow. "Enough?"
"Fighting."
"Oh...oh, yeah, this is fine."
"Good." Mulder then proceeded to crush his mouth to Krycek's in a searing, soul-searching, filling feeling, really wet kiss...with tongues.
"Mmphh!!" Krycek cried, his voice muffled because of the aforementioned kiss.
Mulder pulled back. "What?"
"I think my lip's bleeding," Krycek said, running his tongue inside his lower lip. "I cut it on my bottom teeth when you crushed your mouth to mine."
"I'm sorry!" Mulder exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He helped Krycek up and pulled him in for a gentler, softer, but no less wet, soul-shattering kiss. After a few moments and some strange looks from passers-by, Mulder broke the kiss. "Was that okay?"
"Oh, yeah...that was...oh, yeah...really good."
Mulder frowned, not used to Krycek being so ineloquent. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine...I just...you've never kissed me that way before."
"I haven't?" Mulder searched his brain and could have sworn that he'd been soft and gentle with Krycek before, but perhaps that had been in another story, or at least on a different list.
List? What the hell am I talking about?
Nothing! came a voice from above, this time thwapping him for not being unaware enough to realize he's not supposed to think stuff like that.
"No, you haven't," Krycek said, smiling as he pressed his body against Mulder, sending all sorts of really cool nerve-tingly goodies shooting through the both of them
"Hmm...well, I've been meaning to." Mulder kissed him again, and this kiss was so sweet, so not angry or violent, that it defied any description that would do it justice. In fact, to try and describe this kiss would cause someone so much mental anguish and pain, they'd live out the rest of their days wearing adult diapers and being fed strained carrots.
After this most perfect of all perfect smooches, Krycek...well, he pretty much didn't want to lose the liplock, so *Mulder* very gently pulled away and looked deep into Krycek's eyes. The green ones. Both of them.
"I think we should do something else a little differently, too," Mulder said, smiling.
"You mean we should both go to your place and make sweet love all night long?"
Mulder looked at Krycek as if he'd lost his mind. *Sweet love? What the fuck?* "No, actually, I was thinking that I would do something that doesn't get done a lot when it comes to the two of us."
"What's that?"
Mulder reached behind him and took his gun out of the waistband of his jeans. For some reason, Krycek never felt it back there, and it's not like his hands hadn't been keeping themselves very busy feeling Mulder up. But, that's neither here nor there. Before Krycek could react, Mulder had shot him. Dead.
"Shit!" Mulder chastised himself. "I only meant to wing him."
Krycek sprang to his feet a tremendous smile on his face even though Mulder had just tried to shoot him.
"Krycek! I don't understand, I thought I killed you!"
"It's okay, Mulder. The gun was filled with blanks."
"Blanks. In my gun."
Krycek nodded and gestured for Mulder to walk with him a few feet away, well out of ear or keyboard shot of...whoever. After much wild gesticulating and, one can assume, much explaining (and a little more kissing), they walked back to where I...whoever...could hear them.
"And that's why you and I always end up living together and fucking like bunnies," Krycek said, grinning triumphantly.
Mulder shrugged. "Works for me." With that, he took Krycek by the hand and led him to his car. They were on their way home to live together and fuck like bunnies.
~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~
"Whoa...wait a minute," Krycek said, this time thwapping whoever on the head. "You forgot something."
I did?
"Yeah...you forgot to ask everyone to forgive you for writing this piece of sh--"
"Alex!" Mulder clamped a hand over his mouth. "If you make her angry, she might actually do that eath-day ory-stay she's been threatening to write."
Thanks, Mulder, but too late. Monkey boy gets it in the next one.
Krycek wrestled free. "Hey, that's Ratboy to you!"
"Let's go, Alex," Mulder said, tugging on Krycek's arm. "Let her finish."
I just wanted to say that everyone's been doing some great stuff on this list, and we all seem to be twisted to the same degree, so I figured if anyone could understand this rambling whatever it is, it would be you guys. Thanks so much for the hours of enjoyment!!
The End
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