Morning

***

Mulder rolled over and yawned, eyes opening as he did. A sticky blink and then he eyed the clock. Six fifty-nine. A beautiful minute, in which you could reach out and slap off the alarm before it even sounded its tinny whine in your ear, hit that button hard with the smugness of one who'd beat the clock. Then roll over and go back to sleep.

"Come on, Mulder, we're going to be late," a voice said in his ear.

"Hmmmm..."

"Up and at 'em."

"Fuckkkkk--" The word half-muffled itself in a pillow. Mulder buried his face there for a long minute, drawing the cottony depth up around his ears, then slowly surfaced, wondering if the voice would be gone, as he hoped.

"Mulder."

Mulder didn't open his eyes. Who are you and what are you doing in my bed, he wanted to ask, but he'd been raised with good manners, which did not allow for such direct questioning the morning after. He tried to mentally scroll back and pinpoint the previous night's events in memory, but sad to say it was a blur, like the previous month--year, even--was a blur. The days were lucid, but the nights were interchangeable, like the men.

*I'm really turning into quite the little slut*, Mulder thought sleepily. *Stress on the job...gets ya every time...*

"Tell me you've got coffee in this...this..." The voice trailed off as if searching for an applicable word and failing.

"Place?" Mulder mumbled.

"Well, I was going to say rathole, but I was afraid it would sound pejorative."

"S'okay. I'm trying to attract a few good rats, actually." Mulder, surrendering at last to necessity, propped himself up on his elbows and squinted carefully into the direction of the sunlight which was whitening the room. A backlit body draped the sheets next to him, and glowed fuzzily. Mulder blinked, waking up into appreciation and memory.

"Kresge," he said, grinning.

"Oh, Christ," the other man said through his own sudden laughter. "You fucker--you weren't that drunk, I didn't think."

Mulder's smile tipped crookedly. Letting three small beers take the blame sounded like a wonderful idea. "Yeah, well, it catches up with me sometimes." He put on an apologetic face. "I do remember your name. . .John." He hoped that hadn't sounded too like a guess, but the other man was giving him a dry, knowing look.

"You remember we were going to drive down to Point Lookout this morning? Take a boat out? This ringin' any bells?"

"No shit?" Mulder said, with unfeigned amazement. The look on his face set the other man chuckling again.

"No shit. Well, you warned me you weren't the outdoors type, but I promised you ice cream and you capitulated nicely...in all ways, I must say."

"Mm. If you liked that, maybe we could work out a deal." Mulder scooted over.

"If you're trying to bribe your way out of this trip...it may work." Kresge stretched out. Arms above his head, knuckles beating a light tattoo on the headboard, he eyed Mulder with curious attention. "I tend to get whimsical now and then. I can do the bed and breakfast thing, though--on the condition we go *out* for breakfast."

"Did my kitchen scare you?" Mulder said, lazily nipping at the other man's neck.

"Somethin' like that...hey--"

Something in the slightly too casual tone rang Mulder's warning bells before the other man even finished.

"Why don't you call up that partner of yours. We could take her out to lunch, out on the town. I bet she could do with cutting loose from her keyboard and cadavers for a day. Somethin' tells me the lady doesn't make her weekends count."

Mulder's head rose sharply enough to bump the other man's chin and raise an 'ow' of remark. He stared at Kresge with a tightening face that warred between disbelief and the sudden possibility of dislike. "Are you out of your mind?" he said shortly. "Don't make me regret this more than I already do."

Kresge's face pulled in a grimace. "Thanks, pal." He paused. "Sorry. I guess that would be a bad idea."

"You'd remind her of...everything. And besides..." Mulder hesitated, then said rather ruefully, "She thought you were cute."

"She said that?"

"Yeah, it...came up." Kresge looked more intrigued by this information than a man in another man's bed should--enough that Mulder really worried about what scenarios the guy might be entertaining. He gave the man a light slap on the cheek.

"Hey!"

"Get her out of your head. If you're going to sleep with me, I don't want you calling my partner."

"You gettin' jealous?" Kresge grinned.

*I'm getting in touch with my basic homicidal instincts, asshole.* Mulder's face was cool, flat, and inexpressive. "She's off-limits now. You've set your flag in this camp."

"Jesus, relax, Mulder. I wasn't planning on calling her...particularly if you apply your talents of diversion to--oh yeah--" Kresge groaned, arched. "Ah, fuck, you are way too good at this. This worries me...I think..."

Mulder licked down to where his hand was stroking. "Federal funding is up, up, up, for human resource development programs. Retraining of bureau employees in non predefined areas for greater lateral mobility is highly encouraged."

"Jesus--"

"Let me show you something I learned in an otherwise misspent cross-training seminar."

"Oh--oh--Mulder--fuck yes--fuck YES!" Kresge arched again, more violently now, and his cries degenerated into a husky litany of affirmation as his body bucked rhythmically into Mulder's mouth.

A few minutes later he sobbed his pleasure into a pillow which had somehow crawled half onto his ecstasy-crazed face, chewing wildly at one soft corner, and stuffing it into his open mouth when the urgent sounds of his throat could not be otherwise muted. It was a while before he recovered, but when he finally managed to open his damp-slicked eyes, he could see Mulder curled next to him, looking sneakily triumphant.

Kresge tried to catch his breath--it would be fun to reciprocate, if it didn't kill him. The lungs weren't what they used to be. Still, it would surely be worth the effort. He smiled to himself. This had turned out a pretty good trip, once the work was out of the way. D.C. had a lot going for it.

And Scully's interminable busy signal hadn't been such a bad stroke of luck after all.

****

Anna