Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/

August 12, 1999

RATING: PG13.

FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers.

SUMMARY: Krycek/Spender. Damn.

DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed.

DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me.

NOTES: Challenge items - an office building, "fly", "grave",
"burden", "I want you to remember." Plus the Spice Girls & a war
movie.


XEROX
by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com

Spender stopped on the eighth floor landing and paused to catch his
breath. Damn office building. Damn elevators. Damn fly following
him the whole way up, buzzing around the sweat on his forehead.
Damn heavy suit. Only four more floors to go. Up, up, and away.

He resumed his ascent. Damn idiot sending death threats. "You are
all in grave danger, danger from above, danger from below." Damn
idiot sending boring death threats. Boring. Damn heat. Damn dog
days, boring days, damn August.

Two more flights. Got to remember to run errands on the way back to
JEH. Damn cleaners. Damn video store. Damn idiot clerk, didn't
check the video, gave him fucking "Starship Troopers" when he asked
for "A Wing and a Prayer."

Finally there. He found the door: Brooks, Lawson, Burden, and Ross.
Damn lawyers. He went in. Damn office manager, damn interviews.
They gave him a room to use, full of equipment.

And the photocopier repair man. "Are you almost done?" the manager
asked. He nodded, but didn't turn around, just slowly gathered
tools into a kit. Damn blue collar.

The manager left. The door swung closed. The repair man turned.

Damn. Alex.

"What are you doing here?"

Krycek smiled. "I've gone straight. Given up my life of crime."

"You've gone straight."

Two long strides and Krycek had him by the collar, nose to nose,
chest to chest. "Not that straight," Krycek said and kissed him.

It had been months but they still fit together as though they did
this every day. Krycek tasted like gum -- Dentyne? -- and his mouth
was cool when Spender flicked his tongue inside. He slid one hand
down Krycek's side until it rested on his hip. Krycek stepped back.

Spender fought the reflex to rub his mouth. "What do you want?"

"I'll tell you want I want." What I really, really want, Spender's
brain filled in automatically. Damn Spice Girls. "I want you to
remember to leave your bedroom window open tonight." Krycek handed
him a folded sheet of paper and walked out.

He'd left the kit behind. Not that Spender believed for a minute
that Krycek had come to fix the copier. He took a deep breath,
willing his heart to slow, and opened the paper.

It was a photocopy of Krycek's cock.

Damn.


F I N I S

Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/