Krycek moaned. "Stop that," he hissed to Mulder.
"Stop what?"
"Stop hitting every pothole on the road. I swear you're doing it on purpose."
Mulder turned his head. "It was your idea to share a bike. You could have gotten your own."
"Watch the road, you idiot." Krycek glared and Mulder faced the front again. "I don't know how you've managed to stay alive this long." Something stung against his cheek. Probably a bug. "And it was your idea to get the Vulcan 1500 Nomad instead of the Voyager XII. I bet the Voyager has better shocks."
"I am Nomad," Mulder yelled.
"Is that the only reason you wanted this model? Because you like TOS better than Voyager?"
"I am Nomad."
"Voyager is a great show. You just don't like it because you're afraid of strong women. Admit it. Janeway, Torres, Seven -- they make you nervous."
Mulder turned to Krycek again. "And what makes you nervous, flyboy?"
"Point taken, you prick." Krycek held his breath until Mulder had his eyes back on the horizon. "I was going to play Captain Proton with you later, but now I think I'll have a stress headache instead." They hit another pothole. "Where the hell are we going, anyhow?"
"You said you were tired of Grand Slam Breakfasts and Motel 6s, so I'm taking you somewhere more comfortable for a couple of days."
"Really? Where?"
"Somewhere with no neighbours, no distractions, no neon lights."
"Yeah?"
"And then it's Pon Farr night at the Vulcan nightclub."
Krycek jabbed Mulder in the side and the bike swerved. "You do watch Voyager."
"Of course I watch it. I just don't like it. And anyhow, how does a player, assassin, and soldier of fortune like you get time to watch Voyager?"
"My job pays well. I bought a VCR. How do you think I got time to take this road trip?"
"This is a vacation? I thought you were on the run and brought me along for backup."
Krycek grinned, even though Mulder couldn't see. "I could still kill you and dump the body, I suppose. Just how secluded is this place we're going?"
"Threats will only get you back to Howard Johnson's."
"They probably have our faces on their least-wanted poster by now. If you could just keep your mouth shut when I--"
"If you would just keep yours shut now..."
Krycek did. They hit another bump.
One final curve in the dirt road and they pulled up in front of a log cabin. The small clearing was a little overgrown, but free of encroaching brush. A sizable wood pile was neatly stacked under the eaves.
"Another lovely Mulder summer home?" Krycek walked around, stretching after the long ride. Unhooking their meagre luggage, Mulder slung it over his shoulder and climbed the shallow steps onto the front porch. A solid padlock secured the door.
"Got those kinks all worked out, flyboy?"
Krycek smiled and joined him. "Not yet, so unlock the door. These kinks don't involve getting dirt and twigs anywhere they weren't meant to be."
"Well, uh, I, uh...do you have any lock picks?"
Oh rapture, oh delight, Krycek thought. "Mulder, you shouldn't have. Just for me? You know how hot I get for B&E." He fished around inside his leather jacket and pulled out a ring of keys and picks. "Do you want me to do the honours?"
"No, I can manage." Mulder still looked a little sheepish. His ovine aura increased as he struggled with the lock.
"Are you sure you don't want some help?" God, Mulder looked cute like that.
Frowning, Mulder shook his head. "I've almost..." The lock clicked open and Mulder slid it off. The hinges squeaked a little when he opened the door.
"So, Mulder, whose place is this anyhow? Please don't tell me you just forgot the keys." They entered and Krycek took in the spare, tidy rooms, furniture covered by dust cloths, a shelf of books arranged by author. "Wait, I feel a psychic premonition coming on." Mulder rolled his eyes. "This immaculately conceived little cabin belongs to Walter Skinner, am I right?"
"The spirits do not lie." Mulder dropped the bag just inside the door and jumped onto the couch, crushing the tented sheet. "Now, about those kinks..." He rolled into a come-hither pose, head propped on his elbow.
Krycek hesitated. "He didn't lure you up here to nail your ass, did he?"
"No, no, my proud beauty." Mulder pouted charmingly. "He did not. I found out about through other channels. I thought it might come in handy some day."
"And if the boys don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy?"
"Good thing I'm both." Mulder sat up and shrugged his leather jacket onto the floor, then pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Now, how about it, Captain Proton?"
"Destructo Beam ready."
"Do we have to go?" Krycek asked as he pulled on his helmet. "There was still some food left."
"But the dishes were all dirty." Mulder slung the saddlebags over the bike and strapped them down.
Krycek goosed him as he bent over. "Or broken."
Mulder jumped and swung, but Krycek was out of reach. "Bastard. Why is your luggage so bulky?"
"A souvenir. The towels were so fluffy..."
"You driving, Captain Proton?" Mulder adjusted the chin strap of his own helmet.
"Not til you get us back to civilisation."
"OK, OK. You seemed to enjoy the stopover though..." Mulder leaned over to kiss Krycek and their helmets bumped. He grinned and tried again, more successfully. Then they swung onto the bike, revved it up, and tore loudly out of the clearing.
When the sound finally died away, there was silence for a moment. Then a bird began to sing.
FINIS