[atxc-pi] NEW: Slasher Flick -R- (1/1)

Date: 19 Jun 2003 14:30:23 -0700
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Size: 38,175 bytes

 Yes to Gossamer Slasher Flick
by Flutesong
email-address-deleted
Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for story information.
Slasher Flick
Title: Slasher Flick
Author: Kashmir (email-address-deleted) and
Flutesong (email-address-deleted)
Rating: R, for Language, Slight Gore, and Naughtiness
Pairing: M/K Slash - Early Second Season
Archive: Yep - Let us know
Notes: Our first collaboration - Flutesong took Krycek, Kashmir took
Mulder, and we all had a lot of fun! And now we refuse to give them back.
Thanks to Tarsh for the excellent lyrics. It's all her fault anyway, for
giving Flutesong two sets of terrific lyrics. They had to be used, it
would've been a crime otherwise. Posted originally at the Lyric Wheel.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program 'The X
Files' are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and
Ten-Thirteen Productions. Mrs. Voorhees and Camp Crystal Lake appear
courtesy of Paramount Pictures.
****
"Mulder!" exclaimed Krycek, "We're gonna be late and I can't believe I let
you talk me into this in the first place. The only thing we're gonna find at
the movies is people leaving a cheesy horror flick en-masse. Not alien
abductions"
Mulder put the car into park, with a little more force than necessary. "This
isn't about alien abductions, Krycek. I'm keep telling you, there is
something going on at this theater, and no one else is going to bother
checking it out." Mulder got out, slammed the car door, and attempted to
shake off the last three hours on the road with a verbose and complaining
Krycek.
"Well, I'm with you aren't I? But there's been no definitive evidence that
people have actually gone missing. Just some reports about strange
experiences and feelings after they've returned home."
"Strange feelings? Try full-blown hallucinations. They remember actual
conversations with characters in the movie they were watching. Some are
seeking therapy, and it has happened too often to think it's just a
coincidence." Mulder dug in his back pocket for his wallet, "Oh, and by the
way, you can get your own ticket. And I don't share my popcorn with anyone."
Mulder strode over to the glassed-in booth, giving the teenage girl there a
sunny smile. She smiled back.
"There is a body of definitive evidence, however, linking the increased use
of special effects and violence in modern movies that suggests more people
are suffering after-effects from the experiences, TV too. I'm gonna eat, and
you keep your hands off the nachos." Krycek pulled his wallet from his
pocket as he lined up behind Mulder.
"Whatever, Krycek, just don't touch my popcorn, or you'll be pull back a
bloody stump in place of a hand." Mulder walked to the double doors, and
noticed the brass accents on the worn oak. This must have been a real palace
in its day, he thought. Now the Dreamland Cinema was just another run down,
nearly out of business dump. Mulder couldn't help but think it was a real
shame that soon theaters like these would be a thing of the past. He went
in, and stood at the snack counter, as Krycek caught up.
"Wow, this place must have been a hell of a grand-dame in its time," Krycek
said admiringly while he attempted to balance the large drink, nachos,
jujubes and his own - smaller - popcorn. "Look at all the work that went
into it, Mulder."
Mulder gave Krycek a surprised glance at his comment. He always tried to
find ways to separate Krycek from him, find all the differences between them
and line them up neatly. Krycek wasn't really the complete opposite he
wanted to think he was. His appreciation of what the theater used to be,
almost an echo of his thoughts, made Mulder wonder for a moment what else
they might have in common, then he dismissed it completely, and walked up
the stairs towards the roped off balcony.
What an asshole, Krycek thought as he watched Mulder shrug off his comments
once again. I'm on my own time now and doing him a fucking favor and he
still acts like he's God Almighty. He decided to choose the least ratty
chair to sit in and pulled up another one to hold his food. Deciding it was
over-warm way up here, he took off his jacket and tossed it over yet another
chair. Krycek took full advantage of their otherwise empty sanctuary and
found another chair to put his feet on. "Now," he said with a smirk at
Mulder, "this is what I call watching a movie in style."
Mulder sneered at Krycek's little nesting display. "Make yourself at home,
by all means." Mulder chose a seat next to the railing, looked down and
scrutinized every patron below, all five of them. Then he examined the
speakers, walls, and the red velvet curtain currently obscuring the screen
from his view. The brass railing made a disturbing screeching noise when he
put some weight on it, so he leaned back and into his dusty seat.
"I will," Krycek answered and held his breath when Mulder pushed at the
railing, almost toppling over. "This makes the definition of wide-screen TV
mean nothing. What are we gonna watch anyway? Some new slice-and-dice,
tits-and-ass teenage thing?" He baited Mulder openly now. He'd enough of the
older man's condescending attitude, and anyway, he'd forgotten how Jujubees
stuck in his teeth.
Mulder turned to Krycek about to say something scathing regarding his
language, but the sight of Krycek smiling at him with a green Jujubee stuck
between his front teeth sent him into peals of laughter. At Krycek's
confused expression he simply laughed harder. Finally, he managed to get
himself under control, enough to say. "Not new, old, but, yes, you've pretty
much got the rest pegged. Friday the 13th, to be exact."
Surprised by Mulder's laughter, Krycek snapped his mouth shut and felt
another damn candy lodged there. Fuck, he thought, that's all I need. He
tried to move it with his tongue, but it was stuck. He shrugged and removed
it with a napkin. "Friday the 13th? Crap, isn't that the one with the
chainsaw maniac? I thought it was gonna be a classic or something to suit
this place, you know, like The Blob or The Haunting of Hill House or
something decent."
Mulder snorted, "Something decent? Friday the 13th is a classic! It's the
granddaddy of all slasher flicks. You are a cinematic snob, you know that?
Something decent...." Mulder rolled his eyes. The lights dimming
distracted Mulder's attention, which was followed by the regal parting of
the shabby velvet curtain. A little flutter of excitement went through
Mulder's guts, he didn't know if it was from the knee-jerk reaction of the
curtain, or of the new information about the case he was sure would be
revealed soon.
Krycek watched Mulder become immediately entranced by the starting show. I
bet he thinks Ed Wood is gonna sit down next to him and personally tell him
the secret of life, he thought. On the other hand, Mulder's intense
preoccupation with finding out things is what made him fascinating. Krycek
felt a faint envy stir in his chest, to 'feel' so much, be so passionate, he
longed for that kind of commitment himself. Fuck this, he thought and took a
long sip of his Cherry Coke. The soda to syrup formula must have been off,
because the soda tasted almost sickly sweet. He wanted to ask Mulder if his
Coke tasted strange, but decided against it. Mulder would just probably say
that he was the one with the lousy taste.
The screechy violins during the opening credits were a bit much, Mulder
thought. Yes, It's a horror movie. Yes, we get it. Calm down. As the scene
opened on the first lamb to the slaughter, petting a dog and looking
innocent, Mulder stuck his hand into his popcorn bucket, noticed with some
distaste that they had really hosed it down with the imitation butter-like
substance. As he chewed, he noticed an odd taste, not quite metallic,
strange, though. He turned to Krycek to say something, and then thought the
better of it. He didn't want any of Krycek's statistics about what was in
movie theater butter right now.
Krycek continued to watch Mulder watching the beginning of the movie. The
grease on Mulder's hand from his popcorn was starting to run off his palm
and onto his forearm. It glistened with a green shine in the changing lights
from the screen. Krycek got the oddest feeling about Mulder's long fingered
hand. He could swear he almost felt that hand touch his lips. He licked his
lips, but all he tasted was the over-sweet soda. He dug into his nachos. The
salsa almost made him gag. He was sure it was spoiled. He flung the paper
container away from him and it landed, with a mushy spat, way back in the
balcony. He didn't care if it made a mess or if Mulder didn't approve of
litter. They deserved it for serving him rotten food and nasty soda.
Mulder noticed the container being flung out of the corner of his eye,
"Jeeze, Krycek, can't take you anywhere."
"It tastes like shit," Krycek mumbled under his breath. 'Take me?'- I'll
take you somewhere, Mr. High and Mighty. Take you right up to Smoky's office
and let you explain the movie to him. Bet the two of you would get on like
thieves, always telling me to do this and get that. Bastards, the both of
you.
Krycek took another long sip of his awful soda; it did nothing to slake his
thirst. He was getting increasingly dry-mouthed no matter how much he drank
and began to wonder if there was a water fountain nearby. He shifted in his
seat and found, to his horror that he was erect, and once he noticed that,
he began to feel very warm.
He held the large soda cup in front of himself and hoped Mulder wouldn't
notice him in the darkness. Why the fuck was he aroused? He hadn't a clue.
Mulder found himself ducking slightly as the trees in the movie seemed to
reach out of the screen, the innocent from the gas station was about to get
hers. "That's what she gets for hitchhiking," he muttered to Krycek, who
just grunted in response. As Mrs. Voorhees slit the girl's throat, spraying
blood everywhere, Mulder looked down to grab another handful of popcorn. As
it caught the light from the screen it turned a sinister color of crimson,
the same color as the fine mist on the screen. Mulder yelped, jumped, and
knocked the bucket out of his lap and over the side of the balcony. He heard
curses coming from below, ignored them as he once again looked at the
popcorn he still had in his hands. Which was simple, ordinary popcorn. Maybe
a little too much butter, but other than that, just popcorn. It was then he
noticed the incredulous look Krycek was giving him.
"I admit to trashing the back of the balcony, Mulder. But I didn't attack
anyone doing it." What the fuck was going on? Mulder looked like a deer
caught in the headlights, staring at his handful of popcorn as if it were
suddenly alive. He's dealt with way too many weird things, Krycek decided.
We should have gone fishing at Fells Point or something. Maybe out to eat
at the new diner in Georgetown, someplace simple and ordinary, not this
monstrosity of an ancient theater way out in the boondocks.
"It's nothing... just... nothing.... Ignore me... watch for suspicious
things... or something." Mulder settled back in his seat, tossing the
remaining popcorn behind him, not feeling hungry anymore. Krycek had pinned
him with a stare that said, 'I've already seen the suspicious thing here,
Mulder, and it's not the movie.' He noticed Krycek was clutching his soda
quite protectively, nestling it in his crotch like he feared Mulder was
going to take it away. "Easy, Krycek, " he said, nodding at his lap, "I
don't want any of that."
Like hell you don't! The thought popped suddenly in Krycek's brain and sent
shivers down his spine, and he was rock hard again, behind the paper cup. He
was appalled. Something was definitely wrong with this picture, and it
wasn't the 'moving picture' either. This is NOT a date, Mulder is most
certainly NOT a busty blonde, and I am absolutely NOT aroused by a goddamn
guy, a guy who happens to be MULDER, most of all! What in the holy hell was
going on? "No sharing," he practically hissed, "you said you wouldn't share
your popcorn, so you can't have any of my drink, even if you wanted it."
Krycek was doing an apt impression of a wet cat. "Gee, Krycek, I dunno, I
sure am thirsty." He made to mock grab at the soda, and accidentally brushed
his hand against Krycek closest thigh. That single touch caused a radiant
heat to pulse through his groin. What the fuck? He noticed his hand still
hanging in mid air between them, as if it too was lost on what to do next.
Krycek's thigh was tense and very warm, the thought of what he would feel if
he had just let his fingers grip the cup, his knuckles brush up against
Krycek's fly...
A shriek emanating from the screen made them both jump, as the latest victim
just stood there, accepting the axe through her skull like a good little B
Movie bimbo. However, the special effects were fairly impressive for the
budget, impressive enough to cause Mulder to get a little of that nausea
back from the popcorn incident. He leaned back in his seat, breathing
heavily.
What the fuck was that? Krycek thought to himself. Mulder almost grabbed me
by the nuts. He wanted to feel disgusted, but found instead, he was rubbing
the cup up against the aforementioned area. Shit, I hope the movie is over
soon. I need to get out of here, and away from Mulder.
Mulder was trying desperately to calm his breathing, and concentrate on the
screen. The case, he thought, gotta keep my mind on the case. He tried to
focus on the screen, but it seemed like the perspective kept shifting,
gradually getting closer and closer to him. He could smell rain, which was
odd, because he hadn't heard any noise from the roof. Then he noticed he was
damp. He looked up, thinking there must be a hole in the roof, only to
discover that the roof was missing entirely. The heavy downpour was now
soaking his shirt and jeans thoroughly. And the diner was now about 20 feet
away, directly in front of him. And it was very real.
If Krycek thought Mulder had been acting strange before, he was really weird
now. He was looking up at the ceiling and brushing at his shirt and pants as
if they were wet. "What is the matter with you Mulder?" Krycek asked, and
when Mulder did not respond, asked again louder.
Mulder turned abruptly, suddenly noticing Krycek wasn't there, although he
could hear him as if he was right next to him. "Krycek? Where are you?" He
sloshed around in the muddy parking lot, trying to clear the rain from his
eyes, then he saw him, he was like he was a phantom, appearing gradually,
black and white fading into color.
Krycek was not amused! Suddenly he was wet and couldn't see the screen
through a haze of dim greenish rain and Mulder was calling to him in a
panicked voice. What the fuck! There was Mulder - but - but he was - no!
THEY were standing in a muddy parking lot in front of a diner. Something was
very wrong, but it was suddenly so... real.
"Wha... what?" Krycek shook himself. "What's happening?"
Mulder gaped at this, "What's happening? We are IN THE MOVIE, Krycek! Isn't
it obvious? This is what all those people were talking about! This is it!
This is what we were looking for!" His face split into a huge grin as he
surveyed the drenched lot.
"In the movie? Gimme a break! We can't be in the movie, it isn't real, it's
celluloid," Krycek took a deep breath to continue berating Mulder, then he
paused and looked around. He and Mulder were indeed standing in a muddy
parking lot, just like the one in the movie, and the diner was right here,
too. He could smell the greasy cooking. Oh my God, he thought, I am in a
fucking X-File and TRUST Mulder to be happy about it!
Mulder ignored Krycek's ravings, instead he concentrated on the feel of the
mud between his fingers, the cold metal of the cars, the scents that were
too real to be imitation. Actually in a movie, he thought, smiling. Then his
smile faded. Actually in a movie that happened to be Friday the 13th. Then
he frowned. By his count, there were still three people alive at the camp.
Could he stop the killer? Was it even possible to change anything here? He
had to try. "Krycek, can you hot wire a car?"
Krycek stopped short. Yeah, he could hot wire a car, but did he really want
Mulder to know that about him? He thought it might be okay; even eager Jr.
Agents took auto-shop in high school. "Yeah, Mulder, I can hot wire a car.
Which one do you want me to do?"
"Any of them, just pick one. We have to get to the camp, before anyone else
is killed!"
"Uh, Mulder," Krycek knew he was stuttering, "who is gonna get killed, why
are we involved and how do you know this anyway?" He moved toward the VW
Microbus and opened the unlocked door. Thirty seconds later the noisy engine
turned over.
Mulder slammed the door, and Krycek put the pedal to the floor, like he knew
what to do with a hot car. Mulder's addled mind pondered that for a moment,
and then disregarded it in favor of the problem at hand. "Don't you get it,
Krycek? We are in the movie we were watching! Friday the 13th - we are IN
THIS MOVIE! And the killer hasn't finished yet; we could save the kids still
left at camp. But we have to hurry!" He looked up, hoping to see a sign or
something to tell them where to go, and was stunned to see the cabins
looming directly ahead. "Break, Krycek! Break!" He yelled.
"Shit!" Krycek yelled and slammed on the brakes. The VW slipped and
fishtailed for a few seconds. "Goddamn motherfucker!" Krycek continued to
rant, "What the hell are we doing Mulder? Are you are out of your fucking
mind?"
Mulder leapt from the van, trying to get his bearings. The Archery range to
his right, the lake itself was to his left. Christ, he thought, why didn't I
pay more attention? It had been years since he had first seen the movie, and
he couldn't remember who was next. "The head counselor, had to be the head
counselor", he decided. Now if only he knew where her cabin was.
He turned to find Krycek, soaked to the bone with his hands on his hips,
still shooting him a dirty look. "Look, I know this is crazy, but we have to
go along with it. Come on, let's search the cabins, and watch out for Mrs.
Voorhees."
"What are we gonna do when we get there? I mean isn't the villain
unstoppable or something?" Krycek saw Mulder start off without him. "Stop,
Mulder!" he yelled, but Mulder ignored him and raced toward the cabins.
Damn, he thought, doesn't Mulder ever stop and think?
Mulder, with his gun drawn, kicked the door open on the first cabin. He
checked under every bunk bed and didn't find anything or anyone, he backed
out, collided with Krycek's solid, warm frame. 'And I moved - and I saw him
standing in the doorway,' a piece of an old Townsend song drifted across
Mulder's memory at that moment. He didn't know why, must have been because
Krycek was, well, standing in the doorway. Stress did strange things to his
mind. And Krycek was still there, in the doorway, looking angry and
confused.
Mulder realized this might seem a bit odd to him, not having seen and
experienced the myriad of strange X-Files that he had. He motioned for
Krycek to enter the room, closed the door, and put his hand on Krycek
shoulder, enjoying the warmth there, despite the damp shirt. "Look, Krycek,
I know none of this makes any sense to you right now, but we're here,
somehow, and we have to at least try to make a difference. I don't know what
is going to happen either, but I'm willing to play. How about you?"
Krycek felt the warmth of Mulder's hand and heard the entreaty in his voice.
God, what's he doing to me? One second he's treating me like dirt, the next
we're off on some insane chase and now he's, well, it sure feels like he's
coming on to me. "Okay, okay," Krycek said, the stutter seeming to have
taken up permanent residence in his voice, "I wasn't refusing. I just need
to know what we are up against." Besides being 'up' against you, and that
really doesn't make any sense at all, he thought.
The slight hesitation in Krycek's voice, and the way he slowly blinked at
him, as if to showcase his long eyelashes, made Mulder pause in his pursuit.
Mulder wondered briefly what they would feel like if he brushed his lips
against them. He tightened his grip on the other man's shoulder, intent on
bringing Krycek close enough to do just that, when he suddenly realized what
he was about to do and released him abruptly. What was that? Then he
remembered - the movie! Yes, this has to be some sort of side effect - all
the kids in these kinds of slasher flicks always did drugs or had sex, which
gave the killer ample time to sneak up on them. He had an idea, if he could
just get Krycek to go along with him. "I think I know how to draw the killer
out, so no one else has to get hurt."
Krycek was struck dumb. For a moment it seemed as if Mulder was gonna KISS
him and that was really, really strange. It was stranger than anything else
so far tonight, because, damn, for a moment he WANTED Mulder to kiss him.
"Wha...what did you have in mind?" He finally asked.
Mulder knew he had to approach this carefully, so as not to spook Krycek, so
to speak. "Well, instead of the killer going after the rest of the
counselors, what if we could get her to come to us instead? Whatever we had
to do, it would be worth it, right? And then when we've got her, and
everyone else gets a happy ending. But if you don't want to, I will
understand, believe me, I will." Mulder held his breath, watched the rain
slide down from Krycek's hair, and was suddenly filled with the desire to
lick it off his chin...
"I like happy endings," Krycek said, "especially if we are among those who
don't get hurt. What do you want me to do?"
Mulder took a deep breath, stepped back from Krycek, trying to give him
enough space to think clearly, "Okay, here is my theory. Because we are in
this particular movie, a 'slasher movie', if you will, two things seem to
draw the killer out, one of them is drug use, and there doesn't seem to be
any here, unless you are holding out on me, Krycek." Mulder gave him a small
smile, to show he was joking, then continued on, "And the other thing seems
to be, um, sex." He turned away, not sure he wanted see Krycek's face as he
took this in, didn't know if he could stand it if he was turned down flat.
The silence from behind him became unnerving.
Drugs? Sex? Krycek thought about what Mulder was implying. He'd seen enough
teenage 'slasher' movies to know, but that Mulder was suggesting it?
Bizarre, he'd been warned Mulder was bizarre. Surprisingly, he was
considering what Mulder was suggesting. "Ah, Mulder," Krycek queried, "Just
how far - um - I mean what exactly - er- how much, what do we need to do -
precisely?"
Mulder couldn't believe his ears, Krycek had actually said yes! At least it
sounded like yes. He was going to take it as a yes, at any rate. He turned
back around, and moved closer. "Well, I think any sort of touching of a
sexual nature would work, we don't have to go 'all the way' or anything,
just, you know, touching, maybe kissing, unless you don't want to do that."
Internally Mulder was busy simultaneously undressing Krycek and kicking
himself for phrasing it so badly. Way to seduce a guy, yeah, 'seduce a GUY',
he thought, as strange as that sounds.
"You want us to KISS?" Krycek blurted out, "You mean like... kissing?"
Dweeb, I am a dweeb, he thought.
Krycek looked at Mulder, who was twisting his soaked T-shirt in trembling
fingers in his anxiety. Did he want to kiss a guy? He hadn't ever thought
so, but this was kissing Mulder and suddenly that sounded like the best
offer he'd ever had. He stepped closer to Mulder, "Yeah, yeah, I think
kissing would be okay. I mean lips are just lips, right?" Mulder nodded,
quickly reached out, and there it was. Mouth on mouth and then it was lips
on lips and so much more. It escalated quickly, each trying to take the lead
now that they were 'there'. Then tongues got into play, aggressive tongues,
and Krycek thought it was great. Finally, he didn't have to worry about his
identity for a while because damn if he was gonna be anyone other than
himself right now.
They held on tight to each other, rubbing crotches and kissing and hands
were exploring shoulders and chests and when Mulder cupped his erection, he
knew it was gonna be over just as fast and crazy as it had started. Krycek
pulled back and bit Mulder's neck and ground his hip into Mulder's erection.
Mulder groaned and they fused mouths again, humping each other until they
blew.
Mulder gasped for air and clung to Krycek. God, that was quick, he thought.
One second he was contemplating something a simple as a kiss, and the very
next second he had Krycek up against the wall, rubbing up against him like
he hadn't seen any action in years. Well, that part was true, actually. He
was stunned that he could get so excited, so quick, because of a guy. And it
was good. Very good. Good, as in he'd do it again if Krycek asked. The odd
situation they were in, and the danger that was probably on the way was
forgotten for a moment, and he leaned in and took Krycek's mouth again,
softer this time, one last moment before they returned to the insanity.
Krycek was still gasping when Mulder kissed him. There was no mistaking
'these' kisses as part of anything 'pretend'. These kisses were the real
thing, post-orgasmic pleasure kisses. He wrapped his arms around Mulder and
kissed him back, voluptuously, as if they had all the time in the world to
spend making love on a rainy afternoon. He felt a sort of otherworldly kind
of wonder about being here in this situation, with Mulder. It was if it had
been preordained or something. Hell, maybe it was, he wasn't about to argue
with that. The kisses started to roam: face, chin, throat. His dick started
to twitch again. Damn if Mulder wasn't the best kisser he'd ever come
across, let alone 'come' with.
Mulder's head buzzed pleasantly from Krycek's efforts, he felt himself sag
again, trying to get closer... What the hell was that? He straightened, and
lost the close, warm comfort of his partner's body. Krycek's eyes widened,
giving him a wounded stare. "No, it's not that," he whispered, "listen!"
They both stood perfectly still, ears straining against the darkness for
what Mulder thought he'd heard.
"Kill them, mommy! KILL THEM!" It was very close, right outside the door.
It wasn't quite a child's voice, almost like someone older, more psychotic,
trying to mimic the pitch. The reply chilled Mulder to the bone.
"I won't, Jason, I won't." Mrs. Voorhees had finally decided to make her
appearance.
Krycek, still leaning against the wall, drew his weapon, and waited for the
door to open. Mulder quietly backed away a few paces, until he was right in
front of the doorway, and he aimed at the closed door, dead center. We got
her, was his last thought before Krycek suddenly jolted, dropped his gun,
and looked down at the machete that had gone through the wall and right into
the middle of his chest. "NO!" Mulder screamed.
Mulder wanted to run to Krycek, try to comfort him, something... but Krycek
was already gone, in horror movie fashion, no screaming, and no struggling,
just... dead. "YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU'RE DEAD!" Mulder fired through the
flimsy cabin door until the gun clicked, empty. He threw down his gun, and
stooped to pick up Krycek's discarded weapon. He took one more long, sad
look at Krycek, and then went out into the storm.
It was still pouring out, making her footprints impossible to find, though
he knew she wouldn't have gone far. After all, one of the 'fornicators' was
still alive. "Come on out, Mrs. Voorhees, I know you're here." Nothing. He
turned, going back towards the lake. She's gotta be here, somewhere. Come
on out, you twisted bitch, "You know, I always thought Jason got what he
deserved," he continued loudly, "going off swimming, all by himself like
that, really very careless. You should have taught him better, Mrs.
Voooorrrr..."
The arrow skewered his chest and collapsed both lungs. He fell backwards
into the muck, gasping like a fish out of water. Mrs. Voorhees knelt beside
him, brushing the hair back from his forehead.
"You really shouldn't speak ill of my Jason, not very smart at all. And
besides, you don't belong here." The words echoed, as everything went very
dark.
Krycek woke with a scream on his lips only to find himself sprawled in the
ratty red chair in the balcony of the Dreamland Theater. He jumped to his
feet, wildly looked around for Mulder, and found him...shit! Saw him dying
in bloody Technicolor on the screen. For a brief moment Krycek could feel
the misty rain on his face and then the balcony phased out and in again, and
Mulder was there! He too was holding his chest and looking around wildly.
Krycek hurried over and dropped to his knees in front of the panicked and
breathless man. "We're safe, Mulder. We're safe." Mulder met his eyes and
Krycek grabbed onto him and buried his head in Mulder's lap. "We're alive."
Mulder panted heavily. It was so good to feel his lungs expand with every
breath, to feel Krycek's body heat against his lap. The chill of being
soaked for so long dissipated, and, when he had calmed his breathing, he
took Krycek's chin, lifting his head so they were eye to eye. "Christ,
thought I'd lost you for a minute there." He smiled and stroked his cheek,
"Hell of a carnival ride, huh?"
"Shit Mulder! What the hell happened?" Krycek exclaimed. He was momentarily
embarrassed to find he was on his knees in front of Mulder. He realized he
was no longer damp, yet he still felt wet. In one particular spot.
Son-of-a-bitch! He and Mulder had made out and had fucking come in their
pants. His world took another spin on its axis, but Mulder was stroking his
hair and the side of his face so he gave in and decided to think about all
of it later. Much later. Much.
Mulder noticed Krycek looking at his crotch, then at his own, and suddenly
the cheek under his fingers seemed very warm. Shocked, he removed his hand,
remembered everything else about their evening together in the big screen.
That he had pinned Krycek against the wall and humped him for all he was
worth. He blushed then, wondering if Krycek would be okay with this.
Wondering if Krycek would let him do it again...
"We have to get out of here, Mulder," Krycek said, but he couldn't help it
and pressed his forehead against Mulder's one more time as he reluctantly
began to get to his feet. "If you're going to get any proof, we should find
the other patrons as soon as possible" He extended a hand to Mulder. His
figure merely filled the space in front of Krycek, but he seemed to want to
hold on. Where did that come from? Some song maybe... Krycek shook his head
and tried to get his thoughts back on track, back on the case and away from
sex and Mulder in the same thought. It was a losing battle, but he tried.
Mulder took the offered hand, and stood unsteadily. "I'll go find the
manager. You go downstairs and try to keep people from leaving." They both
hurried back down the stairs, the credits were beginning to roll, and even
though a part of Mulder wanted to stay and see if their names appeared, time
was of the essence.
Krycek nodded and turned into the theater section while Mulder headed toward
the manager's office at the front of the lobby. He pulled out his badge and
attempted to stop and question the few others who had stayed to see the end
of the movie. None of them would stay and talk to him. They all looked
either scared, stoned or both. He gave up and went to find Mulder.
The lobby was empty and he found Mulder standing in the empty manager's
office. The lights in the lobby dimmed and he could hear the automatic
sounds of the film system being rewound and shut off in the booth. "Do you
think the manager is still here?"
"Let's find out," Mulder said, gesturing toward a doorway behind the snack
counter. The door was closed, but he could see light filtering under the
door, and he could hear someone talking softly as he got closer. He made
sure Krycek was behind him, and not touching any part of the wall, just in
case, and opened the door.
They both took out their guns. Krycek was glad, bad guys and guns were
finally something, for the first time tonight, he understood. He watched
Mulder slowly and silently turn the doorknob. It creaked when it started to
open, and they both jumped. The man, at least Krycek thought it was a man,
was so involved in what he was doing that he had either not heard the door
or simply disregarded it. He was somewhat obscured by a flowing dark cape
and the thick greenish-gray smoke coming from a tray of laboratory vials,
doing SOMETHING to the supply of snack food stacked in open cartons on the
shelves.
The Castle Dracula refugee suddenly spun, his cape doing an impressive
little flair, and knocked Mulder's gun from his hand with his cane. Of
course this weirdo had a cane, Krycek thought as he shoved the man up
against the shelves. The beakers of steaming green goo toppled over, hit the
floor and shattered. The man, Vincent Price's younger, uglier, brother,
Krycek decided, started to scream and curse. Krycek's last thought as Mulder
put the man in cuffs and began to read him his rights was, at least he
wasn't cursing in Hungarian, that would really be the final straw!
The man's bird-like claws were still trying to capture Mulder's hands even
after he managed to cuff his arms behind his back. "I'm innocent, I tell
you! INNOCENT! I did nothing wrong! THEY are the ones! THEY tried to stop my
brilliance! I had to continue the testing! THEY made me leave - THEY took
away my RATS! I must have the RATS to do the TESTING!" Mulder shoved the guy
at Krycek, who held him firmly, as he took a closer look at what the creep
was up to. They had interrupted him just as he was tainting the imitation
butter-like substance. So it was all a hallucination, he found himself a
little sad at that thought. It had really seemed like he was actually in the
movie. But that scene with Krycek, had that been a hallucination as well?
His underwear still felt decidedly damp, and not from the rain either. He
pulled out his cell phone and dialed for the local police.
Krycek held the man and was proud he restrained himself from giving in to
the urge to kidney punch the guy a few times. Mulder closed his cell phone
and began to question the suspect. The man made no sense, of course. It was
obvious that he had watched one too many horror flick marathons.
Krycek saw the hangdog look on Mulder's face at the lack of cogent evidence.
He found he was sorry the evening hadn't realized more profound results. He
met Mulder's eyes, over 'Vincent Jr.'s' shoulder and Mulder shrugged, a half
smile appearing on his face.
They stood there staring at each other until Krycek could feel the
temperature in the room begin to rise. He flushed and saw Mulder's small
smile turn into a somewhat evil and lascivious grin. What the fuck, Krycek
thought, and smiled back, showing his own teeth in return.
The local police showed up and took over. Thankfully they were happy enough
with an oral report and would wait for a written one tomorrow. They
reassured Mulder the guy wasn't going anywhere, except back to the asylum
from which he had escaped.
***
Mulder closed his cell phone, and sighed heavily as he lay back on the faded
bedspread. Skinner had been less than pleased about him going out on a case,
not to mention taking Krycek with him, that had not been assigned to him,
but he was glad to hear that one Vincent Addams was back in custody, and
would not be trying to slip anyone a psychedelic mickey anytime soon.
Skinner grudgingly offered a "Nice work, agent. Tell Agent Krycek, too,"
and told them to stay in town for the evening, so they could wrap it up
tomorrow. This was fine with Mulder, he was drained from being 'killed' and
other... things, which he didn't really want to think about right now, but
continued to constantly, whether he wanted to or not. Krycek had leapt at
the idea of getting two rooms, which was fine with him also. Really. It
meant it was just the drugs, he thought, didn't it? Dammit, enough with
this, I need a shower, he said to himself. As he rose, he could hear the
squeaky pipes announcing that he wasn't the only one who thought a shower
was a great idea.
Krycek got in the shower and turned the temperature as hot as he could stand
it. He wondered what was gonna happen next, if anything. The connecting door
was unlocked, and even if it wasn't, he certainly knew how to take care of
that little problem. He absently stroked his 'other' little problem, which
was rapidly becoming bigger. Really, he thought, what happens next?
He reached for the soap, so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't think
why it was already in the soap dish unwrapped. He began to lather up his
left armpit when the strong and unusual 'scent' of the soap reached his
nose. "Wha..." He tried to call out as the shower walls began to dissolve
around him.
Mulder thought he could hear groaning through the thin bathroom walls.
Bastard, he thought. Even in another room Krycek was having a crazy effect
on his libido. He stepped in the shower, tried to adjust the spray to
something past lukewarm, and picked up the soap. It was pink, with an odd
green gooey swirl in the middle. He gave it a good whiff before beginning to
lather; the scent seemed to cloud his brain instantly, causing him to swoon.
He grabbed the curtain to try to break his fall, ripping it off the rod, and
ended up half in and half out of the shower. "Now what?" he muttered as he
lost consciousness.
THE END....OR IS IT???
***
Pete Townsend -- And I Moved (off Empty Glass)
And I moved
As I saw him looking in through my window
His eyes were silent lies
And I moved
And I saw him standing in the doorway
His figure merely filled the space
And I moved
But I moved toward him
And I moved
And his hands felt like ice exciting
As he laid me back just like an empty dress
And I moved
But a minute after he was weeping
His tears his only truth
And I moved
But I moved toward him
### The End ###