In the halls of JEH, Skinner and Doggett circled each other. The struggle for dominance had begun.
First, they arm wrestled. For ten minutes, they were locked in combat, sweat beading silently on their foreheads, but neither gave an inch, so it was declared a draw. If their arms hurt afterwards, neither let on.
Next they each downed a fifth of Wild Turkey. It only took about five minutes. Skinner's eyes bulged and Doggett's neck got red, but afterwards they could both still run up and down the stairs and recite "I Am The Very Model of a Modern Major-General" without the slightest hesitation.
So they moved on to spitting. Splitting a chaw of tobacco, which of course neither of them normally indulged in, since they were manly but not stupid, they chewed for a few minutes, then aimed at a spittoon brought out of storage just for this occasion. From ten feet away, they both hit the mark easily. Skinner was more accurate, not even touching the sides of the spittoon with his tobacco juice. Doggett was showy, expectorating loudly. Another draw.
They got their guns out. Doggett was blindfolded, then spun around six times. He plugged the number three in the elevator indicator at the other end of the hallway. Then Skinner duplicated the feat, drilling the seven instead.
One more trial remained. They stood still, faces like stone, preparing for the feat. Then Skinner let loose a belch that caused the building to shake and made some of the onlookers feel like they were standing too close to a subwoofer. Doggett just smiled and let fly one of his own that shattered the glass in a nearby office window.
There was still no clear winner. Musky pheromones hung thick in the air. Other men began to scurry away and women pressed closely around the fringes, in case there was any chance of mating with the victor.
They moved into phase two.
"I was a Marine, you know," Doggett said, curling his lip a little.
"So was I." Skinner curled his lip just a fraction more. "I killed people."
"Hell, Skinner, I've killed people. Even Agent Scully has killed people and she's a girl."
"I'm an Assistant Director."
Doggett only paused a moment before replying. "I have perfect vision."
"Is that the best you can do, Doggett?" Skinner's lip moved into a sneer. "There's so much testosterone coursing through my body that my hair fell out." An exited murmur rose among the women.
"I'm so manly that I can eat a salad for lunch and the waitresses still flirt with me."
"Yeah? I'm such a guy that I can bake scones for the Director and he still bets on me in my boxing matches."
"Well, I'm such a man that I can drink Pink Ladies in front of my peers and they still respect me."
"And I can wear soft pastels and my agents still obey me unquestioningly."
Doggett was stumped for a fraction of a second, but rallied. "I can work in a tight little midriff baring t-shirt and all my colleagues would think is that my laundry lady screwed up." To illustrate, he took off his jacket, shirt, and tie, to reveal a tight little midriff baring t-shirt. It was blue.
Skinner laughed, derisively. "I'm so virile that I can work in just a posing pouch and people think the air conditioning is broken." Skinner stripped down, draping his clothes carefully over a chair back, until he was clad only in a black leather posing pouch. More murmuring from the women.
Doggett stripped too. "And I'm so masculine that I can work in a sequined posing pouch" -- the sequins were red -- "and...people know there's a very good reason for it."
Stepping in closer, Skinner grabbed Doggett's bare ass in his large hand. "And I can do this and people just figure it's got something to do with team sports."
"And I could do this--" Doggett took Skinner's face into his hands and kissed him, hard and deep. "And all people would think is that you're actually a woman."
The real women were starting to disperse at this point, whispering to each other, and wishing there were some bourbon left.
"Yeah, well, I'm so much a man," Skinner said, when he could talk again, "I could suck your cock and...nobody would think I'm gay."
"I'll believe that when I see it." Doggett sneered some more, wiping Skinner's manly saliva off his face.
So Skinner dropped to his knees, removed the sequined posing pouch, and gave Doggett some head. He was pretty damn good at it, as he was at everything he did. Doggett almost forgot about the contest for a minute. Then he rallied.
"Okay, but I could fuck you in the ass and nobody would think I was gay either."
Skinner stood up. "Sure. I could let you fuck my ass." He undid his own pouch. "How do you want me?"
Doggett thought about it for a second. Skinner had tricked him, the bastard. "No, I think I'd rather you fucked me."
"I called it first. You drill me."
"I don't think so. I'm the manly one. So I get fucked."
Skinner didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed. Then he punched Doggett in the face. Doggett punched back. Soon they were full-on brawling -- yelling, slugging, and completely naked.
Skinner had Doggett in a headlock. "Say it, boy, say you'll fuck me." But Doggett flipped out of it and knocked Skinner to the floor. Before he could continue pummelling, a door opened.
Kersh. "Would you two gentlemen come in, please?"
Doggett and Skinner both stood meekly, glancing guiltily at each other, then entered the plush office.
Kersh sat down behind his desk. He did not ask them to take a seat. "Let me make this simple for you. I am going to fuck both of you. I'm going to ream you good and without any goddamn reacharound."
This was turning out okay, actually. Skinner and Doggett glared at each other, wondering who was going to be first, each hoping it would be him. Then it all started to remind Skinner of those precious times in his own office with Mulder. He began to cry.
"Ha," said Doggett. "I win."
FINIS
I really hate it Slash is rong